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icallhimjoey · 2 years

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Hi! Love your content!!! Would you mind writing a Joe x Reader where she has a really awful day at work and he cheers her up?

babe i had three LONG days at work and I need this Joey for myself right now, hope you love! Wordcount: 1.2K ---

Stay For Longer

The second you walked in through the front door, you decided to step out of your shoes, metaphorically feeling as if you were stepping out of your awful day. A hideous eight hours of work had taken up what they could of you and had drained you empty. It wasn’t late, and you should have really been thinking of what to have for dinner, but all you wanted to do was be in bed. Sleep. Forget today had ever even happened at all.

You didn't even undress, deeming the temperature too low and not to mention the great effort it would take to unbutton and peel off your jeans. You just needed to let your head hit that pillow. Right now. So, you did, still in your regular clothes, unbothered by what they’d bring into and onto your clean bedding. There was no one else there to feel sorry for you, so you indulged yourself and allowed self-pity to fully consume you. Life wasn't fair, and the repercussions of it had been evident all day.

Your bed was cool- cold. Freezing actually, and you knew it was because Joe turned the heating off that morning. You hadn't expected that to allow the cold to overtake your house completely. It was why it took a stupid amount of time for your body heat to stop leaking out of the bed, leaving you shivering with your legs pulled up high and your face barely sticking up above the covers until you managed to eventually drift off.

Unsure of when he joined you in bed, but so happy to feel him when you rustled awake, you could cry under the warmth of Joe’s touch. You wanted to turn, to sneak a peek at his face, see if he was asleep or not, but his grip on your waist was too strong and your tired body too weak in the moment.

"It's just me," Joe said having sensed you'd awoken, as if you expected anyone else to be responsible for the high temperature in the bed. You could feel the skin of your legs glow with heat, and it was almost uncomfortable. You were sure that the jeans you still had on didn't help, but the comparison to the earlier cold was stark enough for you to welcome it all heartily. You took a deep breath and let it fall out of you quickly in a feeble attempt to sink yourself deeper fast, back into the quiet and dark escape from everything.

"Are you hungry?" Joe sounded sleepy too, and you gathered he'd napped with you for a while. It's almost a shame you had only just noticed, the feeling too blissful to want to pull out of.

"Mmmh," was all Joe was going to get out of you, and you were unsure if you'd made your murmur sound more like a yes or a no. But Joe knew.

"Good, 'cause dinner's ready." Joe decided that you were hungry and patted you on the outer thigh that had served as a nice place for him to rest his hand before, signalling that it was time to get up and out now. But you weren't ready to leave the warm nest the two of you had created in your slumber, so you didn't respond to Joe's words or to his taps. It could pass for you childishly pretending you'd fallen back asleep, but Joe knew you well enough and after waiting maybe seven seconds, he pulled you in tighter, nuzzling his face into your neck. He could lay there with for you for a few more minutes if it's what you wanted. Or, seeing as you had snuck into bed in your regular clothes still, needed.

The urge to hug Joe back slowly crept up on you. It was all sweet and cosy being small-spooned by your boyfriend; his breath in your ear, his arm strong around your waist, all warm being pressed up against his chest… but you had arms that needed to engulf and fingers that needed to caress and your face felt too far removed from his, even though you could kiss him by just turning your head. You needed to be closer.

The noises you made turning over in the bed weren’t far off from old-man-getting-up-from-park-bench-after-an-hour-of-sitting-and-feeding-squirrels. Joe helped, guided you with his hands, turning your shoulder, holding covers up until you settled. Your bodies weren’t technically closer than before, but facing him now, it felt like you were.

“Hard day?” Joe whispered, arms clutching, pulling you almost wholly on top of him. You could feel Joe was also wearing all of his clothes still. It was extra cute, because for you it had meant just getting into bed quicker, but for Joe it had meant getting into bed with you quicker.

You just nodded under his chin, the hollow of your cheek pressed up against one of his collarbones, head tilted upwards with your nose buried into the soft tissue of his underjaw. Joe’s scruff and your eyelashes tickled and tangled.

“You were due one,” with the way your face was tucked up into Joe’s neck you could feel his voice box vibrate as he spoke. Joe’s comment could be taken for a joke, maybe even a mean one if you were in the wrong mood, but you knew Joe meant that for at least a month, if not longer, you’d been paddling downstream through life. Just, absolutely coasting. It was all set routines of no-missed bedtimes or slept-through-alarms; you would finish leftovers before they had a chance to grow mouldy in the fridge; you managed to stick to the laundry schedule and had found every clothing item you’d been looking for freshly washed in your wardrobe; all the plants in your apartment were thriving, every single one of them had gotten the right amount of sunlight and moisture at the right time for them; there were no unanswered text messages or e-mails; no birthdays missed or forgotten friends – you’d just been on top of life. A person can only live like that for so long until something goes wrong and completely screws you over.

“I know,” you agreed. Joe’s comment had only made you feel more inclined to feel totally at ease with your reaction to this day. Like he knew you needed some time to be mopey and short, to wallow in gloominess, even if it was just to get it out of your system for the next four weeks. It meant that you knew that Joe would let you if you were going to cry because your boss had expected something from you that he hadn’t specifically asked for, only to tell you today that he was disappointed in you because of his own lack of communication. He wouldn’t just let you, he’d be there to comfort you too, no jokes or pokes, only kind words and kind touches. Because Joe was a supportive boyfriend like that.

“What time is it?” you asked, eyes still closed.

“It’s the weekend.” Joe answered, and you melted as you read in between his lines. Time isn’t of the essence, we have seas of it now, it’s nice here, let’s stay here for longer, I want to stay here longer. So let’s. Truly, the best medicine; exactly what you wanted and exactly what you needed.

---

The Taglisted: @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @jssmth5 @bagelofthelord67 @nobody-000 @lluviamg06 @thatonefan-girl @kylakins88 @paola-carter - add yourself

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #fanfiction #one shot #imagine #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #requested #joe x reader #joseph x reader #stay for longer

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jenuinely-speaking · 17 days

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So, @luckycharms1701 Inspired me by this It's been a rough couple of weeks. And I mean rough. And the fic I'm working on for the boys, even though is fun, is heavy in Angst (capital 'A', yes; listen, listen--I did not plan for my first fic in over ten years to be the one out of the nine that was filled with Angst, okay? Dices were rolled). Needless to say, not only did this speak to me but it full on grabbed me by the collar and crushed me in a tight bear hug until my body went "Okay." Especially Donnie's segment. It hit hard. Not only because I am that friend, but I have friend that has done this for me before. So, before I did anything else today, I had to write this out. I love your writing, Luky, and how your ideas hold sparks. So, I hope you don't mind that I wrote a little fic inspired by your Donnie segment. Disclaimer: I've never written anything for Rise before, so I hope This Donnie reads okay. I am open to critiques, as I am still getting use to the Rise characters. Note: Everyone I write is aged up to be at least in early 20s

The strained sob surprised even me when he answered, and I cursed myself for cutting off his greeting. "What's wrong? What happened." Okay, slight panic in his voice. Definitely need to calm him down (funny how that works) before anything else. "Nothing," my voice cracked and strained as my throat refused to work, fuck me, "I-I just..." Okay, deep breadths. Deep. Breadths. "Okay, I can hear you doing your breathing exercises, but I need you to tell me what's going on."

When my eyes closed, the tears finally fell as the strain in my chest let loose in anxious pain. It was all I could do not to have the full break down right then with him on the line. My lip ached as I bit it hard to stop its quivering and to keep everything at bay while I rubbed my fist against my chest in a pitiful sense of self-soothing. But most of all, this was to keep me from doubling back and saying 'nevermind'--he absolutely hates when I do that, and I have promised that I would be better. Especially in cases like this. My eyes opened slowly when he called my name. It was like they, coupled with his voice were the veil to open up my disassociation so I could at least attempt to talk.

"I'm sorry if you're in the middle of your project, I know--" I paused and flinched when he said my name once more, clipped this time. Right. I also promised that I would stop apologizing when I'd call randomly. 'If I answer, then you're not disturbing me. Stop apologizing; you're not wasting my time if I decide to give it to you.' His words from prior conversations rang clear in my mind and I backtracked to start my brain over. The tears started anew as I took in a wet breadth, "I hate asking this, but..." One more pause. I can do this. I can do this. "I really need you right now, Don. Can you please come over?"

The line was cut just as another whimpering sob escaped my throat at the end of my question. I allowed myself to finish it out and let the tears flow with a wince for only a few moments; if I let it out now, I wouldn't be able to let Donnie in when he arrived. With a few deep breadths and many, many tissues I finally moved to the front of my apartment and watched the large windows on the skylight balcony. Knowing that it would be at least fifteen minutes, I drew my knees up tightly against my chest and curled on the cushioned high-back chair. To busy my brain from anything, I searched the deep night sky for any stars that the city would allow. As always, the brightest was Venus; a forever companion in the morning and the evening, no matter the location. As I began to get lost on mentally reciting the many cultures that possessed legends surrounding the planet, a bulky silhouette appeared and startled me. Two taps came from the large window, and I scrambled over to unlock the large skylight. Before I could even hug him, let alone before he was fully inside, Donnie slung a bulky and large cloth bag from his back and into my arms. Ah, this explained his weird silhouette. Made sense. "There's a little something extra in there, as well, since we haven't been able to find your old one after your move." The slight spark in his eyes did nothing to hint on what he referred to as he closed the skylight. It drew my curiosity wild. Opting to see what he brought now instead of waiting a couple more minutes, I set the bag on the table next to the windows and pulled out the items. He waited patiently close by, nearly hovering as I unpacked his bagged presents. I didn't mind, in fact his hovering presence helped relax me further. I blinked at the first couple of items that I pulled out. A box of my favorite chocolates (not just a small one, a big one--it'll take me over a week to finish this off) and a...hold on. "...Donnie, I love you. But you know I have this movie, right?" I grinned up at him as he took CLUE out of my hands, his own grin plastered on his beak. "Ah, you may have the usual DVD copy and the digital on three separate systems, but this, my dear is the Collector's Edition. Behold," He opened the intricate designed box and turned the DVD case to show the back. I followed his finger as he read the words aloud, "Interview from the writer and director, behind the scenes on making the movie, AND behind the scenes on creating the score." He placed the DVD case back in the sleeve of the decorative box and handed it back to me, that grin of his still present with the spark in his eyes, "I've cleared my schedule for the night and set everything to DND. We can watch whatever you'd like on this, or all of it if you'd prefer." Tears welled anew in my vision, and I stole that hug from him right there. He didn't hesitate on returning it, which warmed my chest even more as he wrapped his arms around me, nuzzled his beak in my hair and churred. I finally felt myself smile with warmth; still sniffling and having anxiety pains, but there was a break.

Continue reading -> I Need You - Jenuinely - Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018) [Archive of Our Own]

#first post on new blog #tmnt #rise tmnt #rotmnt #tmnt donatello #rise donnie #supportive donnie #inspired writing #jenuinely writing #first POV because I NEEDED This okay #saturday morning writing #wrote this instead of adulting #lurker coming out of the shadows

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staringatsleep · 7 months

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Musings

I have so many things to say

But I don't know how to say any of them.

At least, I'll try.

How things have moved along

and yet, not changed at all

I remain here, writing

half-baked, single draft

discordant poetry for an audience of none

an audience I'm not even sure I want to grow

an audience I'm not even sure I want to

read, try to dissect

any of what I say

who knows? maybe

a few of those old friends

from high school might read this

pity me, maybe

be ashamed of ever knowing me?

Possibly.

Even though I do not know

Even though it's inadvisable

I'll continue, as

I've never been good at

being principled, self-disciplined.

II.

You make me crazy.

I think I am crazy, actually.

It's just that our government

doesn't have the resources, or drive

to help me adequately

or even make the process accessible.

You tell me I seem 'chill'

if only you knew how

painfully manufactured that was.

I think they call it 'masking'?

Regardless,

You're now yet another

mishandled relationship in my life

Another obsession I let run wild

And now the only thing

good from all of this mad year

Is going to fall through my fingers.

III.

I thought it was normal

To have as much love to give as I do

Now I know it as

hyperfixation

obsession

one that distance seems the only cure to.

But what if I need to see you

every damn working day of the week?

You're unavoidable

in fact,

you keep inviting me over

for whatever goddamn reason.

I can't believe you can stand my presence.

IV.

I am a predator.

my internalised homophobia is very real

and very hungry.

It feeds when I fall for my friends.

You trust me, think I'm safe

because I don't see you like men do.

But I'm an imposter,

a wolf in sheep's clothing.

I stare at the hole in

the back of that button down

you use as pyjamas

I can't help but

catch glimpses of your face

in the student office

those clingy long sleeves you wear

make you look incredible

I'm a filthy fucking liar

to pretend to be your friend

allow you to feel vulnerable

when I want what I do.

If I could stop myself from liking girls

I'd take it in an instant,

rip my heart and lungs out

hand you over my

dripping circulatory system

sacrifice a part of me

to get a chance at normal.

I'm not a homophobe

I don't think it's wrong

but all it's caused me is

pain and

unbearable suffering.

In this moment,

I'd rather be a loveless shell

than the monster I am today.

Why can you stand me?

I've never been good at

the social thing

I've always been oblivious,

inattentive,

bad at reading between the lines.

You wanting to hang out with me

must be a sign you like me.

I keep taking drugs with you

hoping it'll smooth things out

or make me brave enough to say the truth.

Instead, I'm always left in

another room.

It's almost like

you know.

You laugh at me

even though what I say is

contrived, tailor-made

to suit what I think you'll want to hear.

You hug me every time we part

I wish you wouldn't,

it's paralysing

If I squeeze too tight I

think about how small you are

how monsterous I am.

VI.

How can you be so nice?

Your compassion emanates

from your every word,

every action

The cleaning ladies gush after you,

Everybody knows your name.

You make beautiful art

You write so eloquently

You always know what to say.

You're so beautiful

in every sense of that word.

I can't turn away

I'm sorry that I stayed.

VII.

Am I doomed to sacrifice

everyone I've ever loved?

I lose interest

in people who I've forged relationships with

relationships hewn from rock and iron

tempered in fire

sharpened in blood

it matters not to me.

These people have real feelings

but I'll cleave them in two

shirk my responsibilities

for a chance of being with you.

I don't even know what I'd do, if I got it.

I'd probably know you

like the back of my hand

discover your flaws, idiosyncrasies

Travel far and wide.

Then, I'd

meet someone slightly more interesting

spend more time with them

and you'd stop mattering completely.

#poetry #spilled ink #rant #thoughts #spilled thoughts #unrequited love #sapphic #sapphic yearning

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nikmoire · 10 months

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On Saturday, I started reading "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron. Even before reaching the practical part, I got stuck on a sentence and crafted my own writing exercise from it.

“The refusal to be creative is self-will and is counter to our true nature.”

TL;DR: I realized that I had wrongly labeled myself as uncreative for years. I reflect on childhood memories & moments of self-doubt.

In recent years, whenever someone asked me or it became a topic in some form, I would say, "I'm totally uncreative." I said it so much that I eventually believed it to be an unchangeable fact.

But when I look back on my life, the opposite was actually true. As a child, I always enjoyed drawing, crafting, and coming up with game ideas. Perhaps it was necessary because as a child, I was often alone, but thanks to the multitude of ideas in my head, I was never truly bored. My grandmother is a passionate crafter, and whenever she started a new hobby, I would join in. From window coloring to silk painting to knitting.

The first time I felt uncreative was in the 5th grade. The girl sitting next to me drew a lion, a character from her comic. It was quite impressive for a 10-year-old. I was so amazed that I decided to draw her character too. For me, it was no different than drawing my favorite Disney characters. But my classmates saw it differently. "How uncreative of you to just copy it." "L.'s drawing looks much better than yours." "You can't even draw." L. didn't mind at all. We drew a few pictures for each other, and we could have almost become friends if the rest of the class hadn't constantly criticized my "copying" and convinced her to stay away from me.

I stopped drawing in class for a while, except when I was with L. in religious education. But my drawings became darker and darker. Partly because I wanted to be “different” and partly because my classmates found plenty of other ways to pick on me or gossip behind my back, that it started to affect me mentally. My pictures featured grim reapers, death and lots of blood. I was 11.

When I was 14, I took a manga course during the summer vacation. We learned to draw with ink in a small group, and at the end, everyone got to exhibit their comics. Mine was about child abduction. Of course, why would I pick a more normal topic? But what I remember most about that course is when the teacher said, "Your drawings remind me of a famous mangaka." There it was again: Copycat, uncreative, not good enough. The teacher wouldn't tell me who exactly she meant. So until today, I don't know if there was any truth to that "accusation." I know I wasn't trying to copy anyone on purpose. But maybe I was so bad, dumb and uncreative that I couldn't help myself but copy someone else.

Two years later, I won a writing contest. First place. A friend told me that she attended a writing course during the summer vacation. A real course with teachers and overnight stays! I begged my parents to let me do something like that too. But they refused. It was a pity because maybe I had found something in which I was good enough and most importantly different in.

I wished someone had supported me. But my mother was convinced that I needed a "real" job. And I couldn't ask anyone else.

In high school, I received only top grades in my art class. I particularly enjoyed a project where we had to redesign a book. Mine was about depression. What else? It was so convincing that I almost got reported to the principal. I brushed off my art teacher's worries by saying, "Oh no, it's not about me. I just couldn't come up with any other topic, and then I happened to watch a documentary on the subject."

[...]

But even in my darkest moments, I somehow found my way back to creativity. However, I avoided telling others about it, because I hated their reaction to my art. For some reason, as an adult, you're not allowed to have hobbies in which you're not good at. And maybe everyone was right all along in my life, that I wasn't good because I was uncreative. And I convinced myself and others of that until I actually became devoid of ideas and what I feared most uncreative.

But that's not truly who I am. It was a decision. And decisions can be changed.

#the artists way #writing exercise #personal #art diary

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heathsbitch · 3 years

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BABY STEPS - k.b

a/n: I have no self control so I’m sorry to all my followers who won’t care about this. Also, this might be slightly out of character for Kaz at points, but in my defence this is my first time writing for him. I still hope you guys enjoy though!

Warnings: A slight mention to some spice but nothing major, just Kaz being a little softie.

Word Count: 1707

“Kaz, there was nothing you could do. We were cornered.” I tried to comfort my friend, though I knew my words would have little effect. “If I hadn't hesitated we wouldn’t have been in that situation to begin with.” Always the optimist. “You know why you hesitated, there was nothing you could do.” I repeated, almost afraid to address the issue directly. Kaz walked over to the small table in the corner of his room, tearing his gloves from his hands. He threw the black leather onto the surface before looking up at the mirror above the small basin. Crystal eyes bore into crystal eyes, something was hidden behind them. Shame? Embarrassment? Anger? The likelihood was that it was all of three.

“I should be stronger.” His words came out as slightly louder than a whisper, ashamed to admit that he had a weakness. “Kaz-” I began to say but the glare he shot me over his shoulder told me everything, he didn’t want to hear my pity. I silenced myself, Kaz was always hard to deal with, especially in situations like this. I had known him for years, even before he was dubbed ‘Dirtyhands’. I had known Jordie, been with him the day he was torn from Kaz’s hands. I had seen the damaged boy grow into a broken man; he was strong, there was no doubt there but Kaz viewed his few weaknesses as his enemies. It was as if he didn’t want to address the fact he was human. He knew he was stronger because he was broken but his touch aversion had always bit at him differently, affected him in a way his leg never could. The feel of rotten flesh lingered on the surface of his skin, like a parasite he could never be rid of. Skin to skin contact made his stomach twist and his mind plummet back to that day with Jordie, he could almost feel the water nipping at him at the mere thought of that day. Though I had not been affected in the same way as Kaz had, that day still stained my memory.

But even before that day, everything wasn’t sunshine and rainbows. Shadows lurked at every corner, threatened to swallow us whole; but it didn’t matter, because we were together. I had gotten along well with Jordie, but my relationship with Kaz differed slightly. The way he looked at me was like there was something more behind his deep eyes, something more than just friendship even from day one. He would always clutch my hand whenever we had moments alone, or whenever Jordie wasn’t watching. It seemed as though Kaz couldn’t live without the feeling of my skin against his, the irony of it all burned holes into my mind now. We were children then, each touch innocent, but if things were different today, the innocence would not remain. Each touch more passionate, more daring than the last; our skin connected in an altogether different manner.

But things had changed, and for good reason too. I had no desire to ‘fix’ Kaz, it only broke my heart seeing him be so harsh on himself for something that was entirely out of his own control. I would never pressure him into something he wasn’t comfortable with, but we had made steps in the past few years. It started as him being comfortable removing his gloves in front of me, then him undressing in front of me. We had even come up with a rule if we had to touch each other, or if Kaz wanted to touch me. It had started as a three second rule, only three seconds of skin to skin contact before we could break away. He was comfortable with passing touches of our hands or even my hand across his cheek. Gradually, it had moved to a five second rule, allowing for longer touches, hand-holds weren’t common but occasionally he would take my hand into his and squeeze if he wanted to tell me something without using his words. But we had never progressed further than five seconds, and although I missed his longer touches, I didn’t want to push his boundaries.

“I’m tired, Y/N,” Kaz unbuttoned his waistcoat, folding it and placing it on the side table before moving to undo the top few buttons of his black shirt. He turned to me, “I want to get rid of it.” I knew what he meant instantly, though it had shocked me at first for him to be so upfront about it. His gaze was intense, icy. “Are you sure?” Kaz only nodded as a response. “Maybe we can try something different,” I started but he had already flinched by the time my sentence had finished. “I’m a healer, Kaz. What if I can get rid of the sick feeling? If you can get used to touching without that feeling with me helping you, maybe you’ll get to a point where you won’t need me anymore.” I could almost see the cogs turn in his head as he thought over the idea. Silence passed over us, covering the room like a thick blanket as I waited for his response. Doubt and regret started to seep through me, it was a bad idea, he wouldn’t like it, maybe he was regretting asking for help too.

“Alright.”

“Are you certain?”

“Just do it before I change my mind.” He quipped, already growing impatient with me. “Sit down.” He followed my instructions, sitting on the edge of his bed. Panic had begun to seep through his veins, the reality of the situation settling in. Kaz shuddered again, a clear sign that he was getting overwhelmed. I kept my distance, deciding to speak to him before I got any closer in the fear that I would just make it worse, “You remember the five second rule? It’s just extending that, and if you want to stop at any time, tell me. Hit me if you want, I don’t care if you hurt me.” The corner of his mouth twitched as I practically gave him permission to hurt me, sadistic fucker.

“Sit down then.”

“Be patient, Brekker,”

I joined him on the bed, opting to cross my legs under me to allow me to get a little bit closer to him than if I was sat in the same position as him. “I’m going to move your hand to my cheek, okay?.” He nodded once more, shifting a little to face me further. A storm brewed behind his eyes, emotions flying across them faster than I could register. My hand reached for his, gently taking the veined item into my own before slowly moving it up to cup my face. Kaz’s eyebrows furrowed immediately, his hand started to tremble in mine; Jordie was forcing himself in. His eyes fluttered, he was letting it consume him. “Kaz, look at me, keep your eyes open,” Hesitantly, he listened to me and opened his eyes. “It’s just me and you, only us in this moment. Just think of me. It can be anything, just stay focused.”

“Y/N…” His voice came almost as a whimper, I could feel my heartstrings being pulled. I hated seeing him like this just as much as he hated feeling vulnerable in front of others. “Kaz, you can do this. I’m here, I’ll always be here,” Another moment of silence passed over us. We were far beyond the five second mark, it was time I used my science to see if it worked. “I’m going to touch your stomach now, it’s the only way I can make this work,” Another nod.

My hands were shaking by this point too as I moved them to Kaz’s stomach. It was hard from his clenching but soon relaxed once I started to use my abilities. I focused on the nausea that pooled in his stomach and wished it away, my fingers twitching slightly as my science worked on his body. Kaz instantly relaxed, the muscles in his abdomen becoming soft under my touch, his fingers wrapping further around my cheek almost to the back of my neck. Colour started to return to his once-pale cheeks. It was working. His eyes had fluttered shut in bliss, his hand slipped further, his fingers burying themselves into the hair at the nape of my neck.

I knew he was trying to recompose his stoic facade but it was not working in the slightest, the bliss clearly visible in his face and body. “How do you feel, Kaz?” A smile was evident in my voice as I beamed at the state of my friend, I had never seen him in such a state in a very long time. I almost felt as relieved as he did. Crystal eyes opened to look into mine, his were glassy, tears threatening to fall. “Good?”

“Fuck,” He whispered, his voice nearly at a moan. His fingers tightened in my hair and started to pull at the strands. “Want more.” Kaz pulled himself towards me, his face coming closer to mine. It took me far too long to realise what he was trying to do; he was going to kiss me. Panic shot through me as I tried to tear myself away from his grip. “Baby steps, Kaz. Baby steps, I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.” Sadness washed over me, I would be lying if I said I didn’t want Kaz to kiss me, but now wasn’t the right time. A flash of anger passed across his face before he acknowledged my words. “I want you, have always wanted you. I won’t regret it.” The power his voice usually held had returned, Kaz Brekker was back. “I won’t either, believe me but I don’t want to push your boundaries too much too soon. We’ll get there.” His eyes flickered down to my lips briefly, stubbornness passing through his mind. His slender hand removed itself from my hair as I removed mine from his stomach. “Any after effects?” I quizzed, just in case the nauseous feeling would return even after he had let go of me. The corners of his mouth turned up before he spoke, “Yes, but not in the way you think.”

BABY STEPS, part ii

MASTERLIST

#pleg don't judge me #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #shadow and bone #six of crows #freddy carter #freddy carter imagine #imagine #fluff #smut #baby steps #fic

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alexlwrites · 3 years

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Idol AU one-shot where soulmates can feel each other's pain after they... ahem ahem... make their bond official.

Cut to the boys leaving you, their soulmate, alone at home while you were having the Godzilla of periods, soon to find out the absolute shit of a mistake they made leaving the dorms that day.

I started writing these months ago and just found the doc... Should I finish it? Here's what i got:

---

Men are useless, you concluded while dragging yourself from the big kitchen to an even bigger living room, a blanket thrown around your shoulders and an ostensibly big tub of ice cream in your hands.

You had seven soulmates. Seven. Seven men who were supposed to be there for you and love you unconditionally. And yet not a single one of them managed to be home to support you while going through what could only be described as the world’s worst period.

You would’ve understood if it was a comeback week - having only officiated your soulmate bond a few weeks before, you had yet to experience those but you could only imagine how brutal they would be. But at that moment, their schedule was sparse and they still chose to spend their free time at the studio due to a burst of creativity on Yoongi’s part instead of staying with you in what you considered a desperate time of need.

One of them would do, you thought to yourself while you lied down on the sofa and turned on the TV. You didn’t need all seven of them to take care of you, although that was the ideal scenario. One of them to give you a back rub would suffice. A soothing hand placed on your lower abdomen would do. Instead, you had to resign to your hand pressing down on your skin and a marathon of couple goals videos on Youtube.

“Oh my god, imagine having an idol as your soulmate?” you mock exclaimed to the empty room “What a dream!” you waved the spoon at the couple with matching outfits on the screen “A dream, my ass. Gonna find myself another soulmate and then what? They are going to regret the day they left me home alone! I might even get a song after this…”

You mumbling was interrupted by the sound of your phone, the screen lighting up with a notification from the group chat you had with the boys.

Yoongi [2:00pm]: hey babe, are you feeling any better?

You [2:01pm]: I hope you lost all inspiration and I hope all your verses only rhyme with the word “farts”

Seokjin [2:02pm]: quick game change a word in a song title for “farts”

Jungkook [2:02pm]: war of farts

Seokjin [2:03pm]: magic farts

You [2:04pm]: seokjin farts

Seokjin [2:04pm]: okay your judgement is clouded by anger so I’m gonna let that one slide

You [2:04pm]: your face is clouded by anger

Seokjin [2:05pm]: that doesn’t even make sense. Cmon honey you cant be that mad

You [2:05pm]: yes i can im cutting the nipples out of all your shirts fuck off

[Y/N left the chat]

You were aware that you were being the slightest bit unreasonable. But your awareness did not mean you cared, so you threw your phone back onto the couch, screen down you wouldn’t see any upcoming massages. Curling into a ball, you felt the pain on you lower back fluctuate between bearable and absurd as you allowed yourself a moment of self pity and loneliness.

---

“We’re fucked” Yoogi announced to the room, Seokjin wincing by his side.

When they left earlier in the morning, they didn’t think you would be upset. Generally speaking, you were very understanding and reasonable, always sending them off to work with a kiss and a smile, always being there to comfort them when they came home exhausted. They should’ve known today was not going to be like that when you woke up with a scowl, hands clutching your tummy as you made your way to the kitchen to inhale an atrocious amount of food. When you didn’t say good morning, just sighed a breathless “yeah” when Jimin asked if you were okay.

They should’ve known you would be upset when they started getting ready and you looked up with big, glassy eyes and asked why they were leaving. Yoongi explained how they had some recordings to do and your bottom lip started trembling.

“Can’t you stay with me just for today? Please?” you begged, but they were already half the door, too focused on their obligations as artists and not enough on their duties as soulmates.

“Sorry, baby. We’ll be home later, okay?”

They should’ve known they were fucked when you frowned, eyes quickly becoming stormy as you dodged Taehyung’s kiss. “Whatever” you murmured, walking back into the bedroom and slamming the door.

There was no explanation for how oblivious they were to your state when you made your discountent clear as day, so there was no one to blame for the unsettling feeling of guilt they shared but themselves.

“Do you think she’s really mad?” Jungkook asked, nervously biting his nails.

“Maybe she’s just joking?” added Jimin, ever the hopeful.

Taehyung shook his head “She seemed really off this morning, I don’t think she’s joking” he said, still upset about how you stepped away from him.

Hoseok stood up, clapping his hands together as he started giving out orders “Well, then let’s wrap up as quick as possible so we can go home and try to save the situation as best as we c-WOAH”

Suddenly he was on his knees, clutching his stomach like his life depended on it. “Hobi!” Namjoon called, quickly kneeling beside his friend “Are you okay?”

“No!” wailed the other “What the hell is going on?”

Yoongi got up to call a staff member when his body decided to rebel against him, sending him stumbling back his steps back onto his chair, his abdomen on fire “Ow, ow, ow, what is this? What’s going on?”

One by one, the member started to feel it, an insistent pressure on their just under the bellybutton that expanded to their lower back. It didn’t give, simultaneously feeling like someone was pressing down on them or something was clawing its way out.

#bts x reader #bts imagines #bts au fanfic #bts x y/n #bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader #jin x reader #bts fluff

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johnsamericano · 3 years

Text

𝔖𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 ℜ𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔧.𝔧.𝔥 •2•

Hi hi! I'm back with another chapter. This one might not be as good(?, it's a really fluffy chapter so bear with me.

warnings: sugar daddy jae, he's a big baby, tooth rotting, kinda long.

sugar rush m.list.

taglist: @thoreeo @trustmahluv @sunny-nyu @nanascupid @silent-potato

“Sir, there’s a girl asking to see you.”

“Hey, I’m not a girl!” He chuckled as his finger pressed the button to communicate with his secretary.

“Let her in.”

Only a few seconds later, your head was peeking through his door.

“I brought you coffee.” You extended your hand out, showing him the carton containing two iced drinks. “Are you busy?”

“Not at all, come in.” You sat on the elegant, individual sofa in front of him, his desk serving as a separation. “Are you here to spy on me? Don't you trust me with your father's case?” He pouted, typing something in his keyboard while your palms started sweating.

How could you not trust the man with the highest case winning index in the whole country?

Briefly, after your encounter with the other lawyer, you'd googled him as well as his company. Because of his incredibly high fees, he didn't have many clients, but those few who had enough money to cost him were almost assured to be on the winning side. So then, why hadn't an excellent lawyer like him popped up when you'd first looked for popular firms? Simple, he wasn't popular.

Just like a hidden gem, only a few had the pleasure to know Yoonoh, and you felt beyond grateful for paying that stupid membership weeks ago.

“No, no!” You were quick to defend yourself, frantically shaking your hands to support your previous statement. “Just wanted to be of help.”

Truth to be told, after receiving your first weekly allowance, an unsettling feeling had been squeezing your heart ever since. Call it guilt or whatever, but it didn't set right to be receiving si much help from him when you hadn't had the chance to do anything in return. The least you could do was trying to be polite.

“You shouldn't be spending your money on me. I'm the one supposed to spoil you, remember?” He grabbed the plastic container by the lid, sipping the bitter liquid with an amused smile. “But thank you.”

“I paid my rent yesterday.” You blurted out, trying to avoid the uncomfortable silence threatening to settle between the two of you. “And I still have money left to save for my father's hospital bills, maybe even buy a present for my aunt.”

He admired how noble you were, making sure those around you had enough before even thinking to do something for yourself.

“I have a party this Friday, would you like to attend with me?” Your presence wasn't required as it wasn't a big event, but by the look in your eyes, he knew you were itching to do something in return for his kindness.

“Yes, of course!” Your orbs sparkled with excitement, finally feeling yourself useful.

“If you don't mind waiting, we can go buy something for you to wear right after I finish with this.” For what seemed like the tenth time in less than ten minutes, small beads of sweat rolled down the back of your neck. Thank God he wasn't able to see them. “Oh, come on, don't give me that look!”

“You’ve already done so much for me. I can buy the clothes myself, don't worry.” With a deep sigh, Yoonoh rose from his chair, taking long strides to surround the desk separating you. “W-what are you doing?” Now kneeling on the floor beneath you, his face was dangerously close to yours, coffee breath crashing against your nose.

“Using mind control to convince you to let me take you out.” He stared at you for a couple more seconds before saying: “Is it working?”

“I think your mind control is broken.” You whisper, unable to hold back the small giggles bubbling at the back of your throat.

“How about now?” He batted his eyelashes, trying to act cute despite his bold features. You shook your head.

Just as you thought it was over, his hand went up to cup your jaw, his thumb drawing uneven figures on the ticklish skin.

“How about now?” He repeated. You stammered, unsure of what to say. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.” Aware of your awkwardness and the rising heat in your cheeks, he stood up, walking back to his chair. “But I do want to get you something, would you let me?”

With your mind busy and your guard low, you nodded, unaware of the silly smile on his face.

“I have a few novels on my shelf in case you want something to kill time.”

“Thank you.” You moved to the huge bookshelf facing his desk, grateful your face wasn't visible anymore.

The books were ordered by genre and size, starting from the biggest law-related textbooks to pocket-sized novels, ending with the smallest one he had. The little prince.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. Yoonoh didn't seem to be the type to read that kind of heartbreaking yet beautiful book. Nonetheless, as many said, you can't judge a book by its cover.

An hour or two later, you were halfway into the first book of flowers in the attic, immersed in the small world the author had created. Yoonoh had finished his work a few minutes before, but distracting you when you were reading so vividly, seemed like a crime. He enjoyed the way your eyebrows would knit together every time something shocking happened, clearly too immersed in the novel to notice his intense gaze.

“Y/n...” He whispered once he noticed you were starting a new chapter. You blinked twice, hands clutching the book tightly as you noticed he had finished his work. “You can take it home, don't worry.”

“Sure?” He flashed his pretty dimples as his eyes turned into half-moons.

“You can come back for the rest of the saga when you finish this one. Take as many books as you please, I’ve already read them all.”

“Thank you.” Another act of kindness you had no way of returning. His favors just seemed to be piling up before you could even return any. “Would you like to have dinner with me today? I'm a great cook, or so did my father said.” You blurted out quickly, twisting your hands nervously as you waited for an answer.

“I’d love to. But I might have to attend some work calls if you don't mind.”

“I don't, maybe I'll even have time to bake a cake while you're at it.” God, how bad he wanted to take a picture of that adorably nervous smile.

“Great, so it's settled. Dinner at your place after we go shopping.” He had already put his blazer on, offering his arm to guide you out. With shaky fingers and sweaty armpits, you grabbed it, walking by his side with his secretary’s gazed glued on you. So much for a girl, huh?

Once seated in his car, with the book resting on your lap, you allowed yourself to relax. Yoonoh wasn't a bad person, on the contrary, he was very kind, so there was no use in keeping your guard up when he was around.

“Ready to roll?” You cringed at his use of slang, making him drop his head back to laugh. “What? Isn't it a thing you cool young adults say?”

“Maybe twenty years ago, Yoonoh.” It was the very first time you used his name so informally, and, oh how good it felt to hear you saying it?

“Fine, I won't use it anymore.” He poked your arm like a little child, and for a moment, you wondered if he was actually more than a decade older.

Several bad jokes, two dresses, and a quick stop at the grocery store later, you arrived at your apartment. Yoonoh held everything while you entered the passcode, struggling not to drop a can of vegetables that was starting to bend the edge of the paper bag.

“Ready, hand me something.” You both entered with your hands packed with different things. You went to your room to leave the new dresses while Yoonoh set the paper bags down on the kitchen counter.

“So...” He clapped loudly. “What are we cooking?”

“I bought the ingredients for lasagna. Is that okay with you?” He nodded, lips pressed and dimples in display. “Alright, let's do this.”

It would've been of great help if Yoonoh had told you he didn't know how to cook. But of course, part of the fault was yours for not noticing when he tried to add ketchup to the recipe.

“I burnt it.” He looked at the semi-carbonized pasta with disgust, feeling ashamed of having ruined your dish. “Let’s just throw it away and order something.” He was about to touch the hot container until your grip on his wrist halted his movements.

“We just pulled it out of the oven.” You shook your head in disbelief at the man standing in front of you.

“Sorry.”

Despite Yoonoh’s endless complaining, you ate the lasagna. The flavor wasn't that bad when you scratched off the burnt parts, especially when accompanied by a cold glass of wine.

“It’s not that bad.” You repeated over and over again. A phone call interrupted him from self-pitying any further. “Go on, take it.” You continued eating while he spoke in the living room.

It wasn't until a couple of minutes later that you realized he was whisper yelling at whoever was on the other line. It was your first time seeing him angry, and you didn't like it one bit. The way his face turned completely stoic, his eyes cold as his hand rested on his hip. Sweet, caring, Yoonoh was gone.

“I told you I needed it for today.” He said through gritted teeth. “You better get it before I arrive back at the office, or you can find yourself another job.” Even after he hung up, Yoonoh stood in the middle of the shared area, clutching his phone so tightly, it seemed like it would break any minute.

You wanted to ask if everything was alright, if he needed any help, but most importantly, if the things he needed were related to your father's case, but all the words stuck to your throat like insects in a spider web.

“I need to go.” He simply said, not even bothering to fake a smile. “Thank you for dinner, I'll see you on Friday.” With his free hand, he grabbed the coat hanging from his chair and left, slamming the door on his way out.

Was that the real Yoonoh?

A shiver ran down your spine. What had you gotten into? From what you'd seen, it was only about time he would show his true self to you as well.

All the trust you'd built up during the day, had crumbled down in a matter of seconds. The worst part? You didn't even feel entitled to be scared, not after all he'd done for you.

‘Just keep your distance.’ You repeated like a mantra as you got ready for bed, leaving the book you'd borrowed right where he'd left it, afraid it would burn your fingertips even with the slightest touch.

(...)

The week wasn't nearly as long as you'd wanted it to be, and soon enough, you were struggling to zip the dress you'd bought days ago. Your makeup was done, and Yoonoh had texted you he was on his way, yet, you'd been fighting with the zipper for at least ten minutes. Your fingers were cramping, and the clock was ticking.

Just when you'd finally started to drag the small piece of metal, the doorbell startled you, causing you to let go of it.

“Fuck!” Have you ever felt so desperate that tears start pricking your eyes? Well, that was the exact case happening at the moment.

You opened the door with the salty water collecting at the corner of your eyes, surprising Yoonoh, who was wearing his best dimply smile.

“What’s wrong?” He had a bouquet poorly hidden behind his back, probably to apologize for the night he abruptly left and almost knocked down your door.

“I-I can't zip up my dress.” Your voice came out shaky, giving away the emotions burning your gut. Thankfully, Yoonoh didn't seem to notice, and if he did, he didn't mention it.

“I’ll help you.” He, not-so-discretely, put down the bouquet, gently turning you around to your discomfort. His cold hands touched your back as he dragged the zip up, noticing how tense you were but deciding not to comment on it. “Oh! You haven't moved the book from where I left it.”

“I haven't had time to read.” He hummed, crouching to reach for the bouquet and hand it to you. “Thank you.”

“It’s my way of apologizing for the fit I threw a couple of days ago.” A fit? That was one way to call it.

“It’s okay.” You lied as you pushed the corners of your lips to form a credible smile. “Let’s get going.”

The flowers were left on the kitchen counter before you left. The ride in the elevator was awfully quiet, and Yoonoh had no idea what had happened. You were so chatty the last time he saw you, so of course, he was taken aback by the sudden change.

“It’s not going to take long, so we can head out for some drinks later if you'd like...” You nodded, for you knew speaking would only expose your discomfort. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah! Just nervous about the party, that's all.”

You stood by Yoonoh’s side for the rest of the evening, smiling and nodding at his acquaintances’ comments. At one point in the evening, a man, not much older than you, approached you both with a wide smile.

“Dude, I hadn't seen you in ages. Stop sending your workers and come see me yourself.” They hugged. Why were they hugging?

“Y/n, this is my brother, Sungchan.” The man with puppy-like eyes embraced you tightly, almost as if welcoming you to his family. “Sungchan, this is y/n, my girlfriend.” He said it so naturally, it’d take a detective to figure out the truth about your relationship.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. I'm sorry for your father. But don't worry, we'll take those bastards down.”

“I’m not following...” You blinked repeatedly, eyes going back and forth between Yoonoh and his brother.

“Sungchan is a doctor. I asked him to look at your father's case for further evidence. My assistant was supposed to pick up the report the day we had dinner, but she forgot to drop by. Now we’re a day behind schedule.” The dark cloud surrounding him seemed to be slowly dissipating as you heard his explanation. “This is an important case, and I want to be as meticulous as possible.”

Thank you didn't seem the right thing to say at the moment, at least not with Sungchan standing there, so you simply grabbed his hand, squeezing it to let him know how grateful you were.

To your surprise, he didn't even flinch as he locked your hands together, causing a small giggle from Sungchan.

“Okay, love birds, I'll get going.” He waved you goodbye, making his way to another table where his friend waited for him.

“Can we talk?” You whispered in his ear, afraid one of the numerous attendants would hear you.

“Sure.” Without letting go of your hand, he drove you to a small, private garden just outside the ballroom. “Are you gonna tell me what's wrong now?” His thumb caressed your knuckles with gentle strokes.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What for?”

“I pushed you away at the minimum trouble when you were only helping me.” He hummed as if he already knew about it. “And it will probably happen again, so please, be patient with me. I'm going through-” Your face collided against his chest as his arms draped over your shoulders, squeezing you tightly.

“Call me reckless, but I've wanted to do this for a while.” Your hands hung at the sides of your torso, unsure what to do next. “You can push me away, I'll understand...”

Instead, your palm found its place in his back, rubbing up and down the designer jacket. Your hair started turning messy from the night breeze, some strands striking Yoonoh’s chin as his embrace only grew tighter.

“Let’s get out of here.” He mumbled, crawling the back of your head with his hand. “Sungchan can deal with my father's friends.”

“Are you sure?” His hum vibrated through his chest, making you giggle at the odd feeling.

Once seated in his car, his hand found yours like a magnet, the warmth emanating from it comfortably enveloping your skin.

The calmness of the atmosphere was interrupted by a call from his brother, who seemed to be anxiously explaining something through the phone.

“Just tell him I had a work emergency.” With that said, he hung up, placing his hand back again on top of yours. “Sorry, he said it was urgent.”

“It’s okay.” An unsettling feeling pinched your stomach, but you decided to dismiss it, immersed in the chilly weather of the dark streets.

You arrived at the river, where Yoonoh asked you to wait for him while he bought a couple of beers. It was a sight to see, both of you clad in fancy clothes, barefoot and chugging down can after can.

“I think I like being with you.” You declared, mind fuzzy from the alcohol intake.

“I think I like it too.” The tips of his ears were rosy, revealing he was as intoxicated as you, maybe even more.

“Would you like to visit my father with me tomorrow?” The words flew out of your mouth before you could even realize. Afraid you'd killed the mood, you tried to excuse yourself, only to be interrupted by his lips grazing your ear, placing a timid kiss on your lobe.

“I’d love to.” It was the sweetest peck, no ulterior motives behind it, just pure affection.

“Are we going too fast?” In your drunken state, what you had felt like a real relationship, not a simple agreement. And this sure felt like a first date.

“We’re moving at our own pace, I believe.” He dropped his head on your shoulder, pressing against it to relieve the dizziness clouding his mind. “Are you okay with that? Maybe you don't want to be with an old creep like me, and I'd totally get it. Just don't let me get my hopes up if that's the case.”

“You might be old, but definitely not a creep.” Your fingers combed through his abundant hair as your mind wandered into the future, grateful for the fact that he wouldn't become bald soon. “Or are you?”

“I don't think so.” Anyone who walked by would've seen a couple of goofs, too intoxicated to talk without slurring the words, but you were living in your own, comfy bubble. “I should get you home before it gets too late. Come on, I'll call a driver.” He tried getting on his feet to no avail, stumbling back a little before falling back on his ass.

“My apartment is nearby. You can stay for the night.” You grabbed both pairs of shoes as his arm surrounded your shoulder for assistance. “If you keep supporting your whole weight on me, we're both gonna fall.” People on the street shot you a couple of funny looks, which was understandable since it wasn't usual to see two drunk idiots walking barefoot in the middle of the night.

“How long till-” Hiccup. “-we get there?” His stare seemed to worsen with every step. “God, I think I might throw up.”

“Stop acting like a teenager, we're almost there.”

As soon as you arrived at the small apartment, you sat him down on the little step where you changed your shoes. You left both pairs on the rack, proceeding to put on slippers to enter the house.

“Don’t leave me here!” He whined, stomping his feet like a little kid.

“Just wait for a second!” His attitude was starting to get on your nerves to the point where you couldn't feel the effects of the beer anymore.

You grabbed a rag from the kitchen cabinet and dampened it under the sink. Yoonoh was half asleep when you walked back to him.

“My head hurts.” He mumbled as you sat in front of him, placing his left foot on your lap. “What are you doing?”

“I don't have any slippers that will fit you, and I don't want your dirty feet making my house dirty.” With utmost delicacy, you wiped away the dirt from his toes, noticing the small scratches caused by the gravel he walked on.

He touched your hair while you finished with his other foot, tangling the strands with fascination.

“Done, get up.”

He followed your indications as you guided him to your room, where you laid him down on his side in case he threw up.

“Are we visiting your father tomorrow?” He asked while snuggling under the covers.

“Sure.” You cleared his forehead from the strands falling in it, grazing the soft skin of his forehead. “Sweet dreams, gigantic baby.”

#nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct angst #nct fluff #nct jaehyun #nct jung yoonoh

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

Chapter 11

WC: 2077

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: full on angst, discussions of emotional trauma, mild depictions of blood/gore, mentions of self h*rm & su*cide, mentions of child abuse, discussions of physical disabilities, institutionalization, some dialogue & plot canon to TV show, hurt/comfort

🧠

The rest of the conference went by much like the first day did. Both you and Laszlo bought a few books for your collections. An ease had settled over your conversations with the help of Sara and John's presence; you spoke more freely with each other. You tell yourself it is not because he's going soft on you or vice versa, but rather that you have found yourself in this imaginary bubble where you happen to get on well. It's inevitable that it will pop once you’re back at school and Laszlo will revert back to his usual callous state.

Laszlo. It still felt odd to think of him like that, rather than by his title. You couldn't lie, it gave you a sort of thrill. Even in your dreams you had only called him by his honorific. Thankfully you didn't have another dream after Friday. You couldn't escape the feeling that you'd said something incriminating in front of the man in question. So you chose to pretend it didn't happen.

Monday morning came and you headed to the train station. Once again he had secured a private cabin for the journey. This time you came prepared with a book since you had yet to replace your broken phone.

"Thank you again for inviting me to this, I really enjoyed myself. It was really nice of the department to foot my travel expenses, the hotel was really fancy. I may have helped myself to a mini-bottle or two," you joked.

"There is no need to worry about the department's finances; they were not involved."

You pause. He paid for you? Laszlo did say he would take care of the arrangements; but the four-star hotel, the private compartment train tickets, the admission to the conference, and every meal? Shit, that must have been a fortune, hundreds of dollars at least.

You don't know what to say, so you settle for an awkward "oh." A moment passes before you add "I appreciate that, um, I can pay you back. Might take some time but I can."

The professor is flippant in his reply. "There is no need, it was well spent for the research and knowledge acquired." He opens his book signaling the conversation is over.

You lick your lips. Fine then, I'll just consider it payment for emotional suffering and damages of the last eight weeks.

The first few hours of the journey were spent reading one of the new books you picked up at the convention. Occasionally you would peek over the pages at the professor. He was engrossed in his own selection; sometimes he would pause to write down a thought.

Around the seventh hour of your journey you had given up on reading anymore in favor of looking at the fields outside. The silence was comforting.

Laszlo had trouble concentrating on the book in his hand. He saw you as a conundrum. One minute you could be sociable and teasing with your comments, then next you were biting at his throat with your quick wit and fierce ideals. He decides that he wants to know what made you into who you are today. Now is as good a time as any.

His eyes on you cause a tingle up your spine but you ignore it. Laszlo breaks the silence; "may I ask a personal question?"

"You just did," you answer, still peering out of the large window. He huffed once, amused. At his following silence you face him. You raise your eyebrows to signal him to go on with his question. Curiosity grows at the thought of what he intends to ask.

"Twice now you have made implications of a traumatic past," he begins.

Bubble popped.

Interrupting, you snark "is this the part where you psychoanalyze me, doc? Because trust me, I've been through enough of that." You pick at the lint on your jeans.

Laszlo tries to choose his words more carefully the next time he speaks. "What I mean to say is, the first afternoon in the classroom where you defended that student you implied you had been witness to a trauma. You then displayed signs of anger and embarrassment before leaving prematurely. Yesterday you mentioned having entered a psychiatric facility. As an alienist I can't help but find myself curious about your experiences."

You slide your eyes to meet his from across the cabin. Your face is devoid of any emotion. "We all have our demons. Even you can't argue with that."

Your jaw clenches. Everyone had warned you. They all said he would try to worm his way into your head to figure you out. All the reviews, the gossip, everything. It was a big fat 'I told you so'. You give a pitiful laugh at the situation. "You know, everyone told me that you would pull this stunt."

He seems confused by your statement. "And what is that?"

"That you'd get inside my head and try to figure me all out or whatever. You already know I googled you beforehand, what everyone says about your methods. By now I assume you've done a little research yourself. I promise you there is nothing exciting here," you scoff and point to yourself.

"You would be correct in your assumption." You chew at your cheek as he starts. "I do know some of what happened in your past. Yet I also know that society likes to dilute the truth into something either more palatable, more entertaining, for people to consume greedily. What I want to know is what you have faced. How you have not allowed the experience to overcome you so much so that your humanity is erased like the characters I lecture on."

Eyes closing of their own volition you are thrown back in time to that night so many years ago. You didn't talk about it anymore. Bitsy knew of course, but that was the extent.

Laszlo waits. He knows this is likely to push you over the edge if your history with him means anything. Quite frankly, anyone would be tossed to their limit at his interrogation had they gone through what you had. John always told him that he needed to work on his bedside manner; that he had a habit of coming on too strong in his pursuit of learning the intricacies of the human mind. But your earlier comment about being sent to a so-called 'nuthouse' rubbed him the wrong way. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He needed to know. He needed to understand.

Laszlo can imagine the reprimand that he would receive from John and Sara for this. Just as he considers apologizing for his intrusion you open your eyes.

"She was fine. None of us suspected anything was wrong. I came home from having dinner with some… boy, and she had locked herself in the bathroom. She- she must have started over the sink and moved to sit on the side of the tub. She was hunched inside it when I got the door open. I pulled her out. Blood was… everywhere." Your voice is clinical as you explain.

"After, I shut down. So I checked myself into a psych ward a few days later when I couldn't get the feel of her blood off my hands. It's slippery, you know. And it smells. You wouldn't think so but it does." You clear your throat. "I did the therapy, took the meds they prescribed, all the standard treatments. Later I started watching true crime documentaries. I'd heard about exposure therapy so I figured the more I saw the gore, the less the image of my dead roommate would bother me. And it did help. The nightmares stopped after a while, I came back to school. I was better, just not the same.” You had watched the passing landscape as you explained. Turning to face him you speak again. “That's why those pictures didn't bother me. They weren't anything I hadn't seen before."

He contemplates you. The discovery and subsequent loss of your friend in this manner would no doubt cause lingering effects to your psyche. A stain that would forever remind you. "I offer my sincerest condolences. I do not presume to know what that would be like to experience, but I am glad you sought help afterwards. To make the choice to alleviate yourself of your own suffering where possible.”

As he says this he realizes that your anger towards the idea of being enslaved to unconscious impulse makes perfect sense. It explains why you focused so much energy on defending your belief in free will. That you have the power to choose how you carry your joy, your anger, your healing. It reminds him of how he held onto his own guilt and hurt, ignoring how it festered within him for so long. He feels as though he needs to share a piece of himself with you.

“I played piano as a child, quite well too. My mother hoped I would someday make a career of it. I vividly remember playing Mozart’s Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor at a holiday party when I was seven years old. It was my favorite to play.... It requires two hands." You finally look at him. "My father...” He pauses to gather himself.

Now it is the doctor that cannot meet your eyes. As you listen you feel your confusion grow. How could he have been a talented pianist if he only had full use of his left hand? Unless..., the realization dawns on you just as he continues, his words slow.

“My father had two sides. One loving and the other brutal, the two often coexisting. It was something as trivial as putting me to bed, I recall... A game of tug of war. We were laughing…” He inhales a sharp breath. Already you can feel the tears begin to blur your vision. “I don't remember if he was drunk or if I said something that offended him. He must have pulled my arm behind my back.” Laszlo exhales shakily. “In small children, fractures can often affect…” he trails off, unable to finish. You can hear how he barely holds himself together.

Your heart aches for the broken man that sits in front of you. He never let on how much his arm bothered him, at least not within your presence. Suddenly you don’t see him as this rude, insufferable, obsessive man, but instead as someone that spends his life trying to protect himself. He projects his own anger and hurt so that he may, just for a minute, forget about his own demons. He wants to help others even when he feels he cannot bear to help himself.

But unlike you, he has to live with the physical reminder of his past every day of his life.

You stand and move to sit on his right side. Before allowing yourself to think too much of your actions, you place your hand atop his own, curling your fingers around his palm and squeezing delicately. You don’t bother wiping away the tears on your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Laszlo;” the whisper is barely heard above the sound of the train. A second passes where you fear you have overstepped and offended him by touching the affected limb. When his thumb tightens against the backs of your fingers you know he is not. He holds you in place.

“You asked me how I kept my humanity. How does anyone really? We learn to take what we get and we carry it in a bag. Sometimes you have to drag the damn thing behind you. But eventually the weight gets less and less if you allow yourself to move forward, even if it’s still there with you all the time. I dealt with what happened years ago and it does still haunt me. It’s easier now than it was, but… I- I suppose I’ve learned from you too. Sitting in those lectures and hearing you talk. We can either let it haunt us for the rest of our lives… or we can accept it… and use the memory of our pain to help ourselves and others.”

“I’m not sure the choice is entirely in our hands.” His tone is mournful.

You turn to smile at him through your tears. His own eyes are bloodshot. “I disagree. If it weren’t, if we didn’t have the freedom to choose that, we’d all be murderers.”

Tag list

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#the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler daniel bruhl #scuttle-buttle #tw self harm #tw suicude #tw child abuse

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luthienne · 3 years

Note

hello there ,i love your blog it brings me great comfort , if it's not too much trouble could you make a compilation about unrequited love, my situation is the i'm in love with someone that just wants to take from me and give nothing back, i will break up with him today but i'm feelling very sad about this , i hope you are doing well and have good things in life bye bye and sorry to bother you

i’m so sorry for what you’re going through but so proud of you for walking away. you can check out this compilation that i made; here are a few more:

“My heart is full not of guilt, or shame, or remorse, but of grief… Everything has become too terribly mixed up.”

Boris Pasternak, from Letters Summer 1926: Pasternak, Tsvetaeva, Rilke

“But if it’s love, by God, what is this thing? If good, why then the bitter mortal sting?”

Petrarch, from the ‘Canzoniere’ (tr. Mark Musa)

“He filled her up, her whole world, a moon obliterating the light of any other star.”

Catherynne M. Valente, from Deathless

Anne Carson, from Plainwater: Essays and Poetry

“If I let him do this to me, what else will I allow? Anything, anything, anything.”

Catherynne M. Valente, from Deathless

“God, what are you doing to me? / What am I doing to myself?”

Adonis, from ‘Concerto for the Veiled Christ’, Selected Poems (tr. Khaled Mattawa)

David Mitchell, Slade House

Jeanette Winterson, Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit

“I want to give you everything. This is called a sickness.”

Camille Rankine, from Possession

“Love that incorporates, that devours the other person, that cuts the tendons of the will. Love as immolation of the self.”

Susan Sontag, from Reborn: “July, 1958”

“Love isn’t always magic. Sometimes it’s just melting. Where it’s black and blue. Where it hurts the most.”

Andrea Gibson, from The Madness Vase; “Maybe I Need You”

“Love? I wanted to go with him, to be on the strong side, for him to spare me, like one who seeks shelter in the arm of the enemy to stay far from his arrows. It was different than love, I was finding out: I wanted him as a thirsty person desires water, without feelings, without even wanting to be happy.”

Clarice Lispector, Complete Stories

“Isn't there / always something we want / more than our own happiness? / A pull toward the Fall. / Haven't we all loved too much?”

Danusha Laméris, from The Moons of August; “Apples”

Yves Olade, from When Rome Falls; Bloodsport, 2017

“You have done this a hundred times. Will always do it. Always. I’m so tired of your lack of everything thoughtful, wise about you. You act like a child, a child that just asks and asks and never thinks and sucks one to death, and I’m sitting here crying because it’s so hopeless to ever expect you to be otherwise.”

Anaïs Nin, in a letter to Henry Miller

“Why should anyone go through so much in order to be treated right?”

Alice Notley, Culture of One

“Another moment and I will tell you: it’s not joy but torture you give me. I’m drawn to you as to a crime—”

Osip Mandelstam, from Selected Poems; “Feodosia”

“I felt a terrified pity for him, for this man who lived in such strange, secret places that, if I loved him enough to follow him, I should have to die.”

Angela Carter, from The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories; “The Bloody Chamber”

Ingeborg Bachmann, from The Book of Franza (tr. Jan van Heurck)

“Desolately we parted. Dear one. When we really parted later on, there were no tears, no comfort either. Something like anger on your side, resolution on mine; each of us understood the other. We were not yet through with each other. To separate that way is harder, easier.”

Christa Wolf, Cassandra: A Novel and Four Essays (tr. Jan van Heurck)

[ON LOSING LOVE]: This is the model I propose. You are arriving home and as you approach the garage you try to work your routine magic. Nothing happens; the doors remain closed. You do it again. Again nothing. At first puzzled, then anxious, then furious with disbelief, you sit in the driveway with the engine running; you sit there for weeks, months, for years, waiting for the doors to open. But you are in the wrong car, in front of the wrong garage, waiting outside the wrong house. One of the troubles is this: the heart isn't heart shaped.

Julian Barnes, A History of the World in 10 and 1/2 Chapters

Rainer Maria Rilke, The Book of Images

“It isn’t, our story isn’t—isn’t a story anyone would have chosen to live. But, I had to ask myself…would you change it if you could? Would you? And I had to realize that I wouldn’t. So—that’s all there is to that.”

James Baldwin, Tell Me How Long the Train’s Been Gone

Nikki Giovanni, from “[Untitled]”

...nothing remains of you but the memory of something painful, close to breaking or being lost, and somehow very near extinction.

...no me queda de ti más que esa reminiscencia de una cosa doliente, próxima a quebrarse o a perderse, cerca ya, de cualquier manera a su extinción.

Dulce María Loynaz, Absolute Solitude: Selected Poems; “Poema LVI” (tr. James O’Connor)

Sandra Cisneros, “Mariela”

#i know how hard it is to walk away from that kind of complicated love. i hope you find all the healing in the time that comes now <333 #the dark's his bone #the great wound #compilation #quote compilation #...#long post

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ultimately-mediocre · 3 years

Note

hewwo, could you please write fluff for uhhhhhh nagito ig? idk i just want to make a request :) maybe a date at the fair or smth?

ty for sending in a request! and I’m always a sucker for Nagito so ty for that too hfhfhf I did end up diverging a bit from the date idea so lemme know if you’d like me to try again! Hope ya like it!

*Note: this is probably a bit canon divergent as it involves the 4th island but Nagito hasn’t yet received the monokuma files. Or you can just imagine it takes place in the Island Mode if you prefer :)

———

Nagito x Reader Fluff -

Your feet hit the ground faster than your mind could keep up with. You needed to get to Nagito’s cottage as fast as possible, the idea of wasting time made your stomach churn.

He was supposed to have met you at Nezumi Castle nearly an hour ago now. The two of you were planning on exploring the new island together, but he had never shown.

You didn’t want to think about why he hadn’t shown up, especially not with the way things were on the island. The only thing you could do to keep those worries at bay was focus on the sound of your feet hitting the wooden deck beneath you, and silently pray that you wouldn’t hear an announcement ring out.

Knocking was the last thing on your mind as you finally reached his door, pushing it open as fast as you could manage. Your eyes darted around the room frantically. Everything in you was prepared to scream for help at the first sign of trouble, until you found him. And you finally let yourself stop.

He was sat down on the floor, his back against the wall near his bed, with his legs drawn in close to his chest. He looked like he’d been snapped out of a daze by the sound of the door slamming open. He stared up at you with startled eyes while you caught your breath in the doorway.

“Why are-“

“Thank god you’re alright.” You cut his question off, closing the door behind you as you moved to go sit in front of him.

“I was worried sick, I had no idea where you were, I had no idea if you were even....,” you trailed off for a moment, not wanting to admit the fears you had. Saying them made the weight of them too real.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He furrowed his brow slightly, looking a bit lost as to why you seemed so distressed.

“Why wouldn’t I be- oh,” realization hit him quickly, and his eyes shot over to the clock on the wall, he had lost track of time.

“I’m so sorry I... I didn’t mean to keep you waiting like that,” his apology came out frantically, like he was worried you’d leave before he could get it out.

“You shouldn’t have even come to check on me. For scum like me to leave someone like you waiting.... and after you were nice enough to give me your time in the first place? All because I was too wrapped up in my own self pity. How disgusting. I don’t-“

You cut him off again, not wanting to let him get too far into a self loathing spiral. You frowned slightly, and reached a hand up to place it on the side of his face, gently brushing aside the hair that had fallen into his eyes as you did so. Your thumb rubbed his cheek softly in an attempt to calm him.

“Not scum.” You stated simply, something you made point to remind him anytime he got like this.

He froze for a moment, consistently caught off guard by the affection, no matter how many times you had given it before.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself the privilege of leaning into your touch and smiling softly.

“....Not scum.” He repeated the affirmation back to you after a few seconds of hesitation.

It was small grounding technique the two of you had come to use often in these situations. It didn’t always work, but the reassurance was still nice.

“I am sorry though. I didn’t mean to make you worry.” He mumbled, opening his eyes to look at you again.

“It’s alright.” You used your hand to push the remaining hair out of his face, and moved to sit beside him with your back against the wall.

“Right now I’m more focused on whatever was stressing you out so much it made you lose track of time.”

Nagito sighed as you rested your head on top of his shoulder, looking down at you nervously. It was like he was worried if he told you, you’d pop out of existence.

“It’s just... things have been good lately. You’ve been so kind to me, even though I don’t deserve it. You make me... happy. And I can’t help but think about how lucky I am that you even care about someone like me.”

He paused for a moment. Seemingly unaware at how much you had begun to blush hearing him say that, as he hugged his knees closer to his chest.

“And knowing how lucky I am... it just makes me know how much it’s going to hurt when that luck turns. Even if I know eventually something beautiful will come of it... the idea of seeing you in such despair is.... unnerving.”

He met your eyes nervously, worried he was upsetting you.

You gave him a small nod, encouraging him to go on, so he did.

“When you asked me to come with you to the new island today I couldn’t help but think of all the ways it could go wrong.”

You noticed him picking at his nails nervously, and reached down to lace your fingers between his.

“I’m not going to leave you Nagito. I promise.”

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze to distract him as you spoke.

“Your luck isn’t the thing that’s making me stay with you. I’m here because I care about you. I made that choice myself, and I can handle whatever consequences that come because of it.”

He frowned a bit, and lowered his head to rest it on yours.

“But you don’t know that. The possibilities of something going wrong are endless. You shouldn’t have to suffer, not because of me. There’s nothing to be gained from that.”

You sighed softly, you knew he was trying. He didn’t mean to be contradictory, he just needed things to make sense. Nagito’s mind worked off of rationalizations, and you knew his lack of coherence when it came to you worried him.

You moved your head up, and he followed suit. The two of you shifted so you could look each other in the eyes.

“You’re right,” you started gently, “there are endless ways that things could go wrong. But that just means there’s endless ways that they could go right, too.”

You leaned your forehead against his as he thought.

“And I’ve decided that whichever cards we end up being dealt, I won’t regret having chosen you.”

He pressed his forehead further against yours, as if he was trying to share his thoughts with you that way.

“But what if-“

“No what if’s.” You shook your head slightly.

“No hypotheticals. Not right now. We’re safe right now. We can be happy right now. And there’s a chance we always will be.”

He furrowed his brow, trying his best to understand how you could be so casual about this.

He had expected you to be more upset. He had expected to be the one trying to comfort you, though he didn’t expect to be good at it.

You moved to hold his face with both of your hands, and rubbed your thumbs gently over his cheeks once again.

“Don’t worry too much Nagito.”

You pressed a soft kiss onto his forehead.

“Just remember how good things can be. Just have hope.”

He smiled at your words, and lifted his head to kiss your forehead in return.

“Of course.” He said simply, before gently pulling you onto his lap and into a tight hug.

#nagito x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #komaeda x reader #Nagito imagine #nagito komaeda imagines #nagito komaeda #dr x reader #sdr2 x reader #sdr2 imagines #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa x reader #Nagito oneshot #aaaaa I didn’t proofread at all so! hope it’s good!#ultmdj my post #requests from friends tag

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bloody-bee-tea · 3 years

Text

Cranky

Jiang Cheng usually prides himself of being able to ignore his phone while he’s at work, but when it lights up with Nie Mingjue’s name on it, Jiang Cheng makes an exception.

His day is going badly enough already that he really desperately wants to hear Nie Mingjue, if even for a little bit.

“Mingjue,” he greets him as he accepts the call.

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue gives back warmly, and just hearing his voice makes some of the tension in Jiang Cheng’s shoulders disappear.

“What’s up?” Jiang Cheng asks. “You don’t usually call me during work.”

“I know,” Nie Mingjue says with a sigh and Jiang Cheng can just imagine the little frown on his face. “But I have to cancel tonight,” he then apologetically says and just like that Jiang Cheng’s good-ish mood plummets again.

“Oh, I see,” he whispers.

They have a weekly thing, where they go for a run first before they watch a movie and if Jiang Cheng is being honest, then he has to admit that it’s the highlight of his week.

And he was looking forward to it, especially today.

“I’m really sorry,” Nie Mingjue tells him. “Some more deliveries at work came up, and I’ll have to make a special route after work to get it all done.”

“I understand,” Jiang Cheng says, because he does.

Nie Mingjue is one of the most hard-working people he knows and sometimes it just can’t be helped.

Jiang Cheng knows that very well, seeing as he himself is prone to working long past official office hours. Usually it’s Nie Mingjue to tell him to relax then, and so Jiang Cheng can’t help but to fall into the same role.

Even though he’s a lot gruffer about it than Nie Mingjue usually is.

“Just see to it that you don’t overwork yourself,” he grumbles out and is met with a light chuckle.

“I knew you cared,” Nie Mingjue teasingly says and Jiang Cheng scoffs.

“Dream on,” Jiang Cheng says immediately. “It’s just that if you overwork yourself, I don’t have a running buddy anymore, and what am I gonna do then.”

“You also won’t have a movie buddy anymore,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng has to admit that he’s right.

Not having a movie buddy might just be worse than not having a running buddy. Jiang Cheng is used to running on his own, and he will be fine if he has to do it again, but going back to watching movies on his own after having Nie Mingjue’s company for so long now, that would be considerably worse.

“So just take care of yourself,” Jiang Cheng snaps, completely on the defence as he realizes that Nie Mingjue knows him maybe a little bit too well and Nie Mingjue chuckles.

“I will give it my best. Same time next week, though?” he asks and Jiang Cheng nods before he can think twice about it.

“Of course,” he grumbles, because when did they ever not meet and he feels insulted that Nie Mingjue even has to ask.

“Thought so,” Nie Mingjue says with a chuckle. “Have a good week.”

“You, too,” Jiang Cheng manages to get out before Nie Mingjue hangs up on him.

They don’t usually text much during the week, apart from their regular confirmation that they are in fact still on for their running and movie meeting and Jiang Cheng is kind of glad about it.

He doesn’t know if he could survive being in constant contact with Nie Mingjue like that; running with him once a week and being overly aware of the fact that Nie Mingjue will be naked in the shower and then having to sit close to him on the couch is already enough of a strain on Jiang Cheng’s already fraying self-control.

When Jiang Cheng puts down the phone he lets out a deep sigh. He can’t say that he’s too sad about cancelling today, if he’s being honest. Work today has been shit so far and while he was looking forward to running and getting his aggressions out that way, he would much rather put on his sleeping clothes and curl up under a blanket to mindlessly watch a show or something instead of watching a whole movie.

And now he can do just that when he comes home.

It’s the only thought that gets him through the rest of the day if Jiang Cheng is being honest and when he finally makes his way home he feels weary and tired to the bone.

He still manages to drag himself under the shower but the tension only starts to seep out of his shoulders when he puts on his sleeping clothes—a frayed t-shirt and baggy sweatpants—and he curls up on the couch.

There’s a tiny part of himself that wishes Nie Mingjue were here right now, if only so Jiang Cheng doesn’t give into his self-pity for today, but if Nie Mingjue were here, he wouldn’t get to curl up like this, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be in his sleeping clothes yet, so Jiang Cheng is rather torn on the issue.

He can at least admit that his day seems off somehow, now that Nie Mingjue is not going to come over, but instead of dwelling too much on that, Jiang Cheng gets up to get some ice cream for himself.

It’s one of those days, and he intends to wallow in it.

Jiang Cheng just stuffed his mouth full of ice cream when someone knocks on his door.

Jiang Cheng freezes, totally caught off guard, and he has half a mind to simply pretend that he’s not home, when it knocks again. And again and again.

Jiang Cheng groans as he peels himself out of his blanket, looking mournfully at his ice cream before he puts it down on the table and then he makes his way over to the door.

“Cut it out already,” he seethes as he yanks open the door—already angry at whoever it is on the other side—only to freeze when he comes face to face with Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue musters his face, before he very deliberately lets his eyes wander up and down Jiang Cheng’s form and Jiang Cheng would love nothing more than to disappear right that moment.

“I see you started without me,” Nie Mingjue says with a smile and Jiang Cheng fights the stupid urge to hide behind something and instead plasters a frown to his face. “And you’re cranky.”

“You said you couldn’t make it,” he snaps out, completely caught off guard and Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“Zonghui thinks I’m doing too much and I shouldn’t sacrifice one of the few evenings a month I take for myself so he took all the deliveries and told me to go home.”

“How nice of him,” Jiang Cheng hears himself say—because it is really nice of Nie Zonghui to do that—but he cannot deal with the fact that Nie Mingjue sees him in his ratty clothes.

Jiang Cheng is so much less put together than he likes to be; he’s wearing his oldest clothes, his hair is a half dried mess, and with Jiang Cheng’s luck there’s a chocolate smear on his cheek from the ice cream, he just knows it.

“Wait,” Jiang Cheng blurts out when Nie Mingjue’s words finally make it into his brain. “You decide to spend your evenings off with me,” he whispers out, suddenly horrified at himself that he takes up so much of Nie Mingjue’s time.

“Yes?” Nie Mingjue asks, clearly unsure what has Jiang Cheng in such a panic.

“You should do something you want on those evenings!”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue immediately gives back and there’s so little hesitation in his voice that Jiang Cheng has no other choice but to believe him. “I want to spend them with you. Always,” Nie Mingjue tacks on rather awkwardly and Jiang Cheng goes bright red in the face, he can feel it burning.

“What do you want?” Nie Mingjue asks after a long moment in which Jiang Cheng can do nothing but stare at him.

“For this evening?” Jiang Cheng asks, because he can’t think clearly and surely Nie Mingjue isn’t implying what Jiang Cheng thinks he’s implying because that would mean he chooses very deliberately to see Jiang Cheng once a week even though he doesn’t have much time otherwise.

A very hysterical part of Jiang Cheng points out that maybe he should have thought about that earlier, but Jiang Cheng is in too much panic to listen to it.

“In general,” Nie Mingjue says with a shrug and Jiang Cheng blinks at him.

“For you to not judge me for this,” he finally says with a vague hand gesture at all of himself, because Jiang Cheng knows for a fact that even on the weekends Nie Mingjue takes off he is definitely more put together than Jiang Cheng is in that moment.

“I would never,” Nie Mingjue immediately tells him and then smiles at him, which makes Jiang Cheng’s pulse skyrocket. “I actually find it rather adorable,” Nie Mingjue then says mischievously and Jiang Cheng feels like his brain is shutting down.

“Shut up,” he weakly says but Nie Mingjue doesn’t seem particularly fazed by that.

“I don’t think I will, actually,” Nie Mingjue says. “It makes you look very soft.”

Jiang Cheng blinks at him a few times because Nie Mingjue’s words don’t make any sense. There is no way in hell Nie Mingjue has any other feelings for him than some misplaced older brother protectiveness, Jiang Cheng is sure of that.

At least he had been until now.

“What do you want?” he asks again, though his voice comes out weak and breathy and Nie Mingjue’s face goes very soft.

Nie Mingjue reaches out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind Jiang Cheng’s ear and when Nie Mingjue cups Jiang Cheng’s face in his big palm a shudder runs down Jiang Cheng’s back.

“I want to make you understand how loved you are,” Nie Mingjue whispers, matching his tone to Jiang Cheng’s and that does nothing to explain to Jiang Cheng just what he means with that. “If you would let me,” Nie Mingjue tacks on when Jiang Cheng stands frozen like a statue and then he exerts the faintest of pressure on Jiang Cheng’s cheek; just enough to pull him a little bit forwards.

Jiang Cheng is helpless to stop the movement, and he’s very sure he doesn’t actually want to stop anything that is happening right now and so he allows Nie Mingjue to guide him further and further towards Nie Mingjue’s broad chest.

“Will you let me?” Nie Mingjue asks, his breath ghosting over Jiang Cheng’s lips and Jiang Cheng isn’t sure he could find his voice if his life depended on it, so he simply leans forwards and closes the last tiny bit of distance between them.

Jiang Cheng isn’t sure if he ever had a more perfect first kiss, but he guesses the answer to that is no. His eyes drifted shut on their own accord and his hands find a place at the front of Nie Mingjue’s shirt, urging him closer.

Nie Mingjue keeps his one hand on Jiang Cheng’s cheek, but the other one migrates to the small of Jiang Cheng’s back and it’s so hot and so comfortingly heavy that Jiang Cheng has to bite back a groan at that.

“I can’t believe you just made us do that in the doorway,” Jiang Cheng complaints when they finally part, because he’s stupid and his brain doesn’t work right, but Nie Mingjue only chuckles.

Jiang Cheng can feel it in his own chest, they are standing so close, and he thinks he might never want to move ever again.

“You wouldn’t invite me in. I had to make do with what I had,” Nie Mingjue easily gives back and then presses another fleeting kiss to the corner of Jiang Cheng’s mouth. “But I wouldn’t complain if you were to invite me in.”

“Of course you’re going to come in,” Jiang Cheng bites out and uses his hands which are still fisted into the front of Nie Mingjue’s shirt to pull him inside the apartment.

Once the door is closed behind them some nerves creep back in and Jiang Cheng awkwardly disentangles his hands from Nie Mingjue’s shirt.

“What do you want now?” Jiang Cheng asks and curses himself when he realizes that it came out completely wrong. He wanted to ask what Nie Mingjue wanted to do now, but not this.

“Are you saying you’re feeling loved yet?” Nie Mingjue says questioningly as he tilts his head in the single most adorable movement Jiang Cheng has ever seen.

“Not sure, actually,” Jiang Cheng shoots back, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Again, Nie Mingjue’s face goes very soft and he tucks Jiang Cheng closer with a hand on his hip.

“I love you,” Nie Mingjue breathes out, peppering Jiang Cheng’s face with soft, fleeting butterfly kisses. “I love you very much,” he makes his point with a more passionate kiss this time and Jiang Cheng hums into it.

“I see,” he mutters, their lips still brushing against each other. “I feel loved,” Jiang Cheng then decides with a small nod. “And I love you, too,” he then says, because he didn’t yet and Nie Mingjue needs to know that.

“So I can move on to something else then,” Nie Mingjue muses and noses Jiang Cheng’s cheek, which totally doesn’t make Jiang Cheng’s knees go weak.

“Do you want anything else?” Jiang Cheng asks confidently, though he’s keeping upright more by clutching at Nie Mingjue’s shoulders than anything else.

“I want to make you happy,” Nie Mingjue says after a moment of deliberation and Jiang Cheng immediately shakes his head.

“You’ll have to pick something else,” he tells Nie Mingjue who frowns at him, clearly unhappy with Jiang Cheng’s answer.

Jiang Cheng huffs out a little laugh and cups Nie Mingjue’s cheek in his hand.

“You already make me very happy,” he then tells him and watches as Nie Mingjue’s face lights up with his smile.

“I see,” Nie Mingjue mutters. “Then I want to keep you happy,” he immediately decides and Jiang Cheng swears he’s just doing that to kill him.

This is way too adorable.

“Stop that,” Jiang Cheng complaints, though it’s half-hearted at best and Nie Mingjue seems to know it too, because he doesn’t seem inclined to follow Jiang Cheng’s words.

“What do you want?” Nie Mingjue eventually asks him, and Jiang Cheng has to take a moment to find his words again.

“I want to continue this on the couch,” he finally decides and Nie Mingjue lets out a loud and happy laugh.

“Anything to keep you happy,” he decides and simply picks Jiang Cheng up, before he carries him over to the living-room.

Jiang Cheng yelps when his feet leave the ground, but Nie Mingjue’s grip on him is sure and strong and so instead of struggling Jiang Cheng slings his arms around Nie Mingjue’s shoulders and simply holds on.

It’s not long before Nie Mingjue sits down on the couch, Jiang Cheng now firmly in his lap and Jiang Cheng immediately leans up to get back to kissing. Nie Mingjue is quick to indulge him and Jiang Cheng already knows that this will be one of his favourite things to do.

By the time they remember the ice cream on the table it has long turned into soup, and so they refreeze it on their way to the bedroom.

It is still tasty when they have it for breakfast the next morning.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #the untamed #mdzs #mingcheng #modern au #getting together #flirting #first kiss #humor #fluff

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worldserasingandcreatinginmymind · 3 years

Text

Unfaithful | Part Four

Series Summary: After dreaming of your perfect wedding since you were a little girl the big day is almost here. But after meeting the priest you start to question your relationship.

Pairing: Hot Priest x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2900

Warnings: angst, toxic relationship, emotional blackmail

A/N: Please be warned there will be some themes of toxic/abusive relationship in this series. Also, spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :)

Part Three | Masterlist

- - - -

“Father?”

A voice calling out in the church stops us mid kiss.

“Oh shit, it’s Pam!” The Priest whispers, eyes wide.

“Father, are you in here?” She calls out again.

Remembering his confession about hiding from her I can’t help but find it amusing we’re now both hiding in this tiny box. A tiny giggle escapes my lips and the Priest shushes me, placing his hand gently over my mouth.

After a minute Pam finally retreats back to her room, leaving us alone. The priest waits another few seconds before removing his hand and letting out a sigh.

“That was too close”

“Was kinda hot though” I reply, planting a kiss on his lips.

“Yeah it was” he laughs, kissing me back “but we should probably move this back to my office incase she comes back” He kisses me again and takes my hand. He pokes his head out from the curtain to check no ones there before leading me out the confession box and to his office. He shuts the door and to my surprise spins me around till my back falls against it. He immediately resumes kissing me, letting out small breathless moans as our tongues explore each others mouths. His hands find their way from my hips, up my sides and to the buttons of my shirt. I place my hands over his, stopping him.

“Do you mind if we don’t, just yet.. I'm not- I'm not ready for that” I stutter “I'm sorry”

He plants a kiss on my forehead before leaning his forehead against mine.

“We don’t have to do anything until you're ready” he whispers and smiles a genuine, loving smile which I return.

“Can we just cuddle for a bit?” I ask shyly

“Of course”

He leads me over to the two seater sofa and sits down, gently pulling me down with him and wrapping himself around me.

Laying on the Priest’s small sofa, my head on his chest and his arms around me, I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven. We stay like that for at least ten minutes, silently enjoying the blissful feeling of each others company.

I tilt my head to look up at him and find him watching me.

“What?” I giggle, feeling slightly self conscious under his gaze.

“Nothing, just- thinking”

“About what?”

“It doesn’t matter”

He smiles at me and places a kiss on my forehead. He brings his hand up to stroke the side of my face, his thumb gently glides over my burns and his face changes. There’s a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“He did this to you, didn’t he?”

I nod, biting my lip slightly.

“Because you were with me?”

“No” I reply quickly, not wanting him to think this was his fault “lt was my fault, I called him pathetic”

“That’s no excuse to hurt you!”

“It’s always been a trigger word for Daniel.” I explain and he looks at me confused. I remove myself from under his arms and sit up to face him “His father always used to call him that. He wasn’t a very nice man, he was an alcoholic with anger issues. He used to beat Daniel’s mother in front of him and tell him it was his fault. And if he cried, like any child would, he told him he was pathetic.”

“That’s awful”

“When Daniel’s mother died, his dad changed. Started going to church and completely turned his life around. He was like a new man. But Daniel never forgave him. Even after he died, he just couldn’t. And I don't blame him, I can’t imagine the things he must have seen. At the funeral all these people from the church kept telling Daniel that his father was up in heaven watching over him, and he hated it. The idea that this man who did such horrendous things was allowed be in heaven, it made him so angry. That’s why he’s got such an issue with you. It’s not really about you personally, it’s what you stand for. Just religion in general.”

“Then why get married in a church?”

“My fault again. I had to beg and beg him to let me have the wedding here. My parents aren’t around anymore either but I have such fond memories of being here with them that I thought if we had the wedding here it would feel like they were with me. I know must sound silly-”

“Not at all, it’s a lovely thought. I bet they’d be so proud of you.”

“I hope so”

The sound of the phone ringing pulls us out of our conversation. The Priest goes to his desk and picks up the phone.

“Hello?” He answers with a cheery voice.

Suddenly the smiles disappears from his face and he looks at me with wide eyes.

“Oh hi Daniel”

My heart stops. I feel like I could throw up. What the hell is Daniel doing calling the Priest? Does he know I’m here? Does he know what we’ve done?

“Slow down, say that again”

I watch intently as the Priest listens to Daniel on the other end, trying to figure out from his facial expressions what they’re talking about.

“No I haven’t seen her” he lies “Why? What’s happened?”

He must be asking about me. I take my phone from my pocket and power it on. I had turned it off in the hospital and completely forgot to turn it back on again. Multiple messages and endless missed calls from Daniel.

“Don't worry, I’m sure she’s fine. If I see her I’ll let her know you're looking for her okay? Okay bye Daniel” he puts the phone down and looks up at me again “he sounds like he’s really panicking about you”

“Good!”

“You need to go home” the Priest says, walking over to me

“I don't want to”

“I know. But you're gonna have to face him sooner or later” he puts his hands on my shoulders and I look up into his eyes before letting out a sigh.

“You're right. I should go. Thank you, for everything” I smile at him giving him a quick kiss before heading to the door.

“Y/N?” He calls after me and I turn back to look at him “none of it is your fault”

— — — —

The moment I step through the front door Daniel comes running, full of apologies.

“Oh my God, Y/N. I’m sorry. Are you okay? Please forgive me. I love you so much. What did the hospital say?”

“It will heal eventually. They gave me some cream for the pain.”

“I am so sorry! I’m gonna change-”

“I’ve heard it all before” I snap

“I know, I know- but I mean it. Here, let me take your shoes off for you”

“I don't need your help” I say, kicking my shoes off

“Let me take care of you! Go to bed and I’ll come up in a minute. Please, I want to make it up to you”

I stare him out for a moment before giving in and doing as he says. I get into some fresh pyjamas and climb into bed. A few minutes later I hear him coming upstairs.

“I made you a fresh coffee, since you didn’t get to drink yours this morning”

He puts the coffee on the bedside table and sits on the edge of the bed next to me. He takes the cream from the table and squeezes some onto his fingers. He reaches towards me and I instinctively flinch away from his touch.

“Please, let me do this” he says quietly and I give him a small nod.

I can’t help but let out a small whimper of pain as he touches my skin.

“Sorry!”

I can't even look at him. I can hear from his voice he’s trying not to cry and the last thing I want to feel right now is pity for him.

Once he’s finished applying the cream he wipes his hands on a tissue and climbs into bed next to me. He cautiously reaches over to put his arm around me, and because I don't have to the energy to argue I allow him to pull me in to cuddle up to him.

He takes the remote from his bedside table drawer and turns the tv on.

“What do you want to watch?”

“We need to talk” I say and he turns the tv off again, releasing me from his arm and sitting up to look at me. He looks terrified.

“Okay?”

“Look I’ve been thinking-”

“Please” he interrupts, grabbing my hands and begging “don't break up with me!”

“Daniel” I sigh

“I’ve been panicking all day thinking that you’d left me. If you hadn’t come home, I don't know what I would have done… I can’t live without you by my side.”

“Stop! I’m not breaking up with you… I just think we need time to work things out”

“What do you mean?” He looks concerned.

“We should postpone the wedding”

“No! No we don't need to do that. What happened today will never happen again. I promise.” He says and I smirk slightly at hearing yet another empty promise. He notices. “I mean it. Y/N, I have waited over half my life to marry you. I don't wait any longer. I want to call you my wife and show everyone how much I love you!”

I watch as he squeezes my hand tightly in his own, almost as if he’s scared I’ll suddenly slip away and he’ll lose me. His eyes search mine and I can see the desperate panic he feels. I let out a sigh.

“Okay, we’ll keep the set date.” I finally say and I see the relief flood through Daniel “but I don't think we should get married in the church”

“I thought that’s what you wanted”

“I do- I did. But you clearly don't want to and that’s okay. We’ll find somewhere that makes us both happy.”

“No, I don't want my issues to be the reason you don't get your dream wedding. We’re getting married in the church, and I’m going to make things right with the priest. I promise. When’s the next meeting?”

“Oh, you really don't have to-“

“I want to! It’s the final one before the big day right?” He asks and I nod “then I should definitely go! When is it?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“I’ll be there.”

— — — —

After another night of dreaming of the Priest, I was awakened by Daniel bringing me breakfast in bed.

“This looks lovely, thank you” I say as he places the tray over my lap and gives me a kiss on the forehead. A memory flashes in my head of the priest pressing his lips to that same spot yesterday.

“You're most welcome m’lady” he says in his poshest voice and bows like a butler, making an involuntary giggle escape my mouth “listen I’ve got to pop out but I’ll meet you at the church this afternoon”

“Okay” I nod, highly doubting he’s actually going to turn up.

“I love you!” He kisses me again before leaving.

Hearing him say he loves me sends a sudden pang of guilt through me. He loves me. And despite everything I do still love him. So why can’t I stop thinking about the priest? When I’m around him I feel more content than I’ve felt in years. I know I haven't known him for very long but I feel so strongly for him, its insane.

How can I love two guys at once?

I let out a sigh and shake the thoughts out of my head.

Once I finish my breakfast I get out of bed, have a shower and get ready for the day. I find myself counting down the hours till I get to see the priest again and as I finally make my way to the church the excited butterflies in my stomach are fluttering so hard I swear they’re going to burst out of me and fly right to him. I turn the corner and smile as I see him standing outside the front door chatting to someone. Our eyes meet and he smiles back at me, sending my heart soaring. That is until the man he’s chatting to turns around and I realise its Daniel. Then my heart feels like it stops all together. I know he said he was going to be here today I just didn’t believe he would actually show up. I’m almost disappointed he’s crashed my alone time with the priest.

I snap out of it and remind myself I’m supposed to be happy, plastering an over the fake smile on my face as I greet my fiancé.

“You're here!” I say, unable to hide the surprise in my voice.

“I said I would be didn’t I? I have something for you, wait here” Daniel says before rushing off toward the carpark. I take my chance to talk to the priest.

“I can’t believe he actually came”

“He also apologised to me”

“He did what?”

“I know, it’s a miracle!” The priest says sarcastically.

“Doubt it. I’m sure he’ll be back to his usual self as soon as something gets him angry. I dread to think what he’d do if he ever found out that we...”

“Yeah about that. We both had too much to drink and I think we both said and did things we shouldn’t have. Maybe it’s best if we just... pretend that didn’t happen?”

My heart sinks as I realise what he’s saying. He regrets kissing me. But he told me he loved me! What if that just the alcohol talking? I realise he’s waiting for a response.

“Of course, yeah you’re right! We were both drunk and I’d had a really bad day. Neither of us were in our right minds. It never happened”

The priest doesn’t respond, just looks past me to something behind me. I turn around to follow his gaze and see the biggest flower bouquet I’ve ever seen walking towards me with Daniel’s legs.

“Oh my God” I gasp

“I wanted to get you something as beautiful as you are, but nothing came close. This was the best I could do”

“Thank you” I say quietly, blushing slightly “this must have cost a fortune!”

“You're worth every penny” he replies and I can’t help but smile as he leans in and kisses me. This is the Daniel I fell for all those years ago, not the man he’s become lately. Could he really have changed back?

“Oh isn’t that lovely” the Priest says, there’s a hint of sarcasm in his voice but it’s so subtle that thankfully Daniel doesn’t catch it “shall we head inside”

— — — —

The meeting is nothing like I expected it to be. Daniel, being true to his word, was over the top friendly with the Priest. Every question asked, he would answer straight away. He was cracking jokes, telling stories about things we’ve done together and the places we’ve been. I couldn’t get a word in even if I wanted to. Although the Priest was smiling along, I could tell he couldn’t wait for this meeting to be over. He almost looks relieved when Pam knocks on the office door.

“So sorry to interrupt Father, the Parish council are on the phone. Something about tomorrow’s fundraiser.. shall I tell them to call back later?”

“No no” he says quickly, jumping up from his chair “it’s okay, we’re pretty much done here anyway.” He turns back to look at us “sorry for the abrupt ending but…”

“Of course, we understand” Daniel responds getting up from his chair, and I do the same.

“Pam will show you out” the Priest holds the door open for us and Daniel walks out behind Pam. I follow but stop at the door, face to face with the priest.

“Are you okay?” I ask quietly and he nods, not able to look me in the eye.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He responds. I study him for a moment before he speaks again “better not keep those parish councillors waiting” I catch his hint and leave the room, taking one last look back at the Priest as he shuts the door before I run to catch up with Daniel and Pam.

“Will we be seeing you at the fundraiser garden party tomorrow?” Pam asks as I join them at the door.

“I’m working” Daniel answers “but Y/N could”

“I’d love to but I’ve got my hen party tomorrow-” I excuse

“Yeah but that’s in the evening. You’re free all day right?” Dan argues

“uh… yeah I guess I am” I agree, reluctantly

“Great! The more the merrier” Pam smiles “make sure you bring plenty of cash”

“Will do. See you tomorrow” I say, giving her a small wave as Daniel and I head to the car.

Daniel chats constantly on the drive home but I don't listen to a word. Instead my thoughts are consumed by the priest and his dismissive attitude towards me. How in the space of 24 hours can he have gone from telling me he loves me, to now not being able to look at me?

Was it because Daniel was there? Did I do or say something wrong?

I guess I”ll have to wait till the fundraiser tomorrow to find out.

Part Five

#hot priest #hot priest x reader #Andrew Scott x reader #fleabag #Andrew scott #fleabag fanfic #fleabag imagine #Andrew Scott imagine #Andrew Scott fanfic #fleabag fic #fleabag hot priest #hot priest imagine #hot priest fanfic #Andrew Scott priest #fleabag x reader

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littlespoonevan · 3 years

Text

i’ll be home but i don’t know when

askjdlfh ok i’ve read too many speculation fics this past week and now you’ve all got me speculating and i need to stop bc i’m gonna get my hopes up too much lmao but anyway in the meantime here’s this bc i couldn’t help myself

4x13/14 speculation-ish, 1.6k

title: first week - vera blue

Buck sits in the waiting room, hands clasped between his knees, jiggling his foot as he stares at nothing. He’s lost track of how long he’s been here but it’s been long enough for the room to fill and empty at least three times, long enough that one of the nurses had offered to get him a cup of coffee from the cafeteria, long enough that he can’t feel the blood dried under his fingernails anymore.

“Buck!”

His gaze snaps up to the doorway and something inside him crumples at the sight of Christopher pulling himself into the room on his crutches. Carla is standing behind him with a hand on his shoulder but Buck hardly spares her a glance before he’s bolting out of his seat and crouching down in front of Christopher.

“Is my dad o-okay?” he asks, a tremor beneath his voice that makes his lip wobble and makes Buck want to bundle him up in his arms and never let him go.

“Hey, listen,” Buck says soothingly, hands flitting across Christopher’s shoulders before reaching up to cup his cheeks. “Your dad got hurt today but he’s in surgery right now and the doctors are gonna tell me when he’s finished.” He searches Christopher’s expression, tries to figure out the best thing to say to make it better. He knows nothing can though, not really, so he settles on, “You wanna wait with me?”

Christopher’s breath hitches and his eyes fill with tears and it’s all Buck can do to pull him into his arms – if only so Chris won’t see the tears Buck has been steadfastly trying to hold back ever since he got here.

He picks Christopher up, meeting Carla’s pitying gaze over his shoulder as she carefully slips the crutches off Christopher’s arms.

“I called Isabel and Pepa,” he tells her. “Told them I’d let them know when we hear anything; there’s no point in them coming down until then.”

She nods, pursing her lips. “Are you sure you don’t want me to keep him a while longer?”

Christopher picks his head up off Buck’s shoulder at that, arms clinging tighter around Buck’s neck. “I wanna stay with Buck. I wanna wait for dad.”

“It’s okay,” Buck murmurs, rubbing over his back and giving Carla a tired smile. “I’m sure. I’ll call if I need you though.”

She squeezes his arm, before passing him the crutches and pressing a careful hand to Christopher’s back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart,” she says quietly. “Call me when you know something,” she adds to Buck and he nods.

When she’s gone he carries Christopher over to his chair. He considers putting Chris down in the seat beside him before deciding he probably needs the comfort as much as Buck does. So he sits down and keeps Christopher in his lap, rearranging him so he can sit more comfortably with his cheek pressed against Buck’s chest. Buck runs a hand through his hair, kisses his forehead, and tries to stop thinking about one of the last things Eddie had said to him.

“Take- Buck, take care of Christopher, okay? I don’t- he’ll want to stay with you-“

“Eddie, stop. He’s not- you’re not- you’re gonna be fine, okay? So stop- stop making plans. Just hold on, alright?”

Buck shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a steadying breath. Fuck, he can’t lose him. He can’t- they’re only just- he can’t do this without Eddie. Work, life, whatever. He needs him here.

“Buck,” Christopher says quietly, fingers playing with one of the strings on Buck’s hoodie.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Can we play I Spy?”

Buck’s breath catches and he presses his face into Christopher’s hair, allows himself the briefest moment to crack, before he nods. “Yeah,” he says, voice raw with unshed tears. “Yeah. You go first.”

The rest of the team arrive in stages. First Bobby, sitting in the chair right next to Buck’s and rubbing his back while Buck tries in vain to rock Christopher to sleep. Then Hen with coffees and a juice for Chris. Then Chim with the promise that he and Maddie can switch off taking care of Jee-Yun is Buck wants her instead. That very nearly does Buck in but he manages to stifle back the sob at the last minute.

Together, they wait but even the low hum of their conversations isn’t enough to drown out the sound of gunshots rattling around in Buck’s brain.

It should’ve been him.

As soon as they’d heard the shots Eddie had pushed him towards the other firefighter from the 133 and he’d pulled Buck behind the fire truck. Eddie hadn’t had a chance to get to safety.

It should’ve been Buck.

He’s not the one with a kid, the one with so much to come back for. It’s not fair.

“Evan Buckley?”

His head shoots up and he locates the doctor standing in the doorway. Christopher is dozing in his arms by now but he manages to stand without jostling him too much. “That’s me.”

The rest of the team stand with him, a silent bubble of support, as the doctor looks between him and the chart in his hand.

“You’re Eddie Diaz’s emergency contact,” he says and Buck nods, absently aware of the way Hen and Chim’s heads jerk to him in surprise.

“He’s out of surgery,” the doctor continues. “We were able to remove the bullet; it thankfully didn’t hit anything vital. He lost a lot of blood but we’ve given him a transfusion. They’re bringing him down to his room now; I can take you to see him when he’s settled.”

Buck feels himself deflate, is convinced he’d collapse if he wasn’t still holding Christopher, if Bobby didn’t immediately grip his shoulder. “Th-thank you,” he stammers out, breath rushing out of him all at once.

The doctor leaves and Buck blinks tears out his eyes as he ducks to whisper in Christopher’s ear. “Chris, hey, Did you hear that? Your dad’s okay.”

An hour later Buck finds himself in Eddie’s room, staring at him in the bed like if he looks away for too long he’ll disappear. Christopher is standing in front of him, holding Eddie’s hand, and Buck wonders if he should take him out of the room, if this might be too upsetting for him but then Chris says, “Can I get on the bed with him?” and Buck knows there’s nothing in the world that could make Christopher leave.

He also knows he should probably say no but honestly, if Buck didn’t still have one last shred of self-restraint he’s pretty sure he’d be the one climbing onto the bed with Eddie, hand on his chest to feel him breathing. So he picks Chris up under his arms and carefully lifts him onto the mattress, making sure he doesn’t disturb any of the wires.

“Careful not to move anything, buddy,” he says but Christopher only shifts enough to lie down, curling into Eddie’s side and letting his head rest on Eddie’s bicep. Buck feels a fresh wave of tears come at the sight but he doesn’t feel so bad about it now that Christopher isn’t looking at him anymore. He scoots his chair closer, picking up the hand Christopher had been holding earlier and linking his fingers with Eddie’s.

His grip is completely slack, completely unlike earlier when he’d squeezed Buck’s hand so tight right before he’d lost consciousness. Buck tries not to think about it.

He sits there long enough for Christopher to fall asleep again, long enough for him to forget the rest of the world is still moving outside the room, until eventually the hand in his twitches.

He blinks, looking down before he flits his gaze to Eddie’s face. He watches with bated breath as Eddie slowly comes to, eyelids flickering before finally opening properly. Eddie notices Christopher first and Buck swallows around the lump in his throat at the way Eddie’s entire being softens at the sight of his son, the way he closes his eyes again briefly like he’s memorising the feeling. When he opens his eyes the second time they find Buck and that’s as much as Buck can take before the emotion he’s been holding back for the last few hours comes flooding to the surface.

“Hi,” he whispers, voice thick as too many tears escape at once.

Eddie takes a breath and wets his lips, fingers twitching against Buck’s again. “Hi.” His voice is hoarse and gravelly but it’s Eddie’s voice and he’s okay and Buck can finally breathe again.

“I missed you.” And it sounds stupid but it’s true. Eddie’s eyes close once more and there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy,” he mumbles, returning his gaze to Buck and he just- he looks so open, so unguarded in a way that Buck only rarely gets to see in their quietest moments.

He picks Eddie’s hand up, holding it between his own as he props his elbows on the mattress behind Christopher. He presses his lips to Eddie’s knuckles, doesn’t think about the implications other than needing him closer, other than needing to comfort him. “Thanks for coming back.”

“Thanks for not letting me go.”

Buck thinks of the moments before his hospital. Of his hand pressing against Eddie’s stomach to keep pressure on the wound, of his other hand touching Eddie’s face trying to keep him awake, of pulling him into his arms in those terrifying few seconds between Eddie losing consciousness and the ambulance arriving. Of holding his hand right down to the very last minute when they stepped into the hospital and Eddie had to be wheeled away.

And now, at his hand in Buck’s again, right where it’s supposed to be.

There’s more to say about it, more they could confess right now, but there’s time. They have time.

So Buck only nods, lacing his fingers more firmly with Eddie’s and offering him a smile he hopes says everything.

Eddie smiles back and it’s enough for now.

#buddie #buck x eddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #911 #my fics #i basically did this to stop myself posting chapter 2 tonight #but also bc i can't stop thinking about it

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Note

ohmyword if your doing req can u pls do another fluffy, domestic one bcos honeymoon morning is some i read daily AHAH maybe like the reader gets ill and toms away or something???? pls just anything fluffy

awh thank you for being so sweet abt honeymoon morning - I do think that's one of my favourite concepts ive done!! and I hope this suits what you want, im not so sure myself but I tried :)))

summary: you try to hide being ill from Tom before he leaves but inevitably it doesn't all go to plan

warnings: mentions of being sick, I think that's all - basically just fluff

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

The night hadn’t really gone typically at all. Instead of relishing the last night with Tom for a few months, your body seemed to have different plans. Hence why now you were curled up in a ball on the sofa, staring blankly at the TV, while the washing machine whirred next-door in the utility room and the chemical smell of cleaning products enveloped the downstairs. At least when you were sick, you were a clean sick.

You were also a quiet sick. You had been pulled from your sleep by the uncomfortable heavy sensation from your stomach barely an hour after you’d both headed to bed. Why was beyond you - what had been important in that moment was to get away from Tom. He was flying back to set tomorrow (or given the early hours currently, lunchtime today was more appropriate) and only had a single day to settle before launching back into filming. So the poor boy was inevitably, given time zones, going to be running on poor quality plane sleep for the next couple of days - you wanted to five him a final night of peace, at least.

As a result, you’d crept downstairs and since then spent a large chunk of the night making good friends with the downstairs toilet bowl. Once you were absolutely certain there was literally nothing else in your stomach, you chucked some bleach down the loo; then stripped your *stained* pyjamas and chucked them in the washing machine; changed into some freshly washed stuff in the utility (comprising of joggers and one of Tom’s hoodies); before you could curl up in the corner of the sofa.

And that’s how you’d been for an hour or so. Still feeling grim, unable to fall asleep as much as you were trying to and generally just lying in a ball of self pity. And that was fine… until you heard the unmistakable slow padding of footsteps down the stairs.

“Love?… -hy’re you up?” His voice was drenched in sleep, making it pull on your heart strings, even before he had rounded the sofa and come into view. Dressed only in his heather grey joggers only, Tom’s curls sat ontop of his head wildly - sticking up at all ridiculous angles. And then there was his puffy eyes, barely open as he slowly processed the sight of you curled up on the sofa.

“Just couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to keep you up tossing and turning. Why are you up bub?”

“Don’t sleep good without you… you know kicking me and stealing the duvet and stuff.” Never one to maintain a level of seriousness and ‘soppiness’ - it was instantly turned back to the typical relationship of the two of you. While rolling your eyes, you still chuckled at him in the low light of the TV. Tom took the opportunity to perch on the edge of the sofa, sitting so he was grinning loopily down at you. “You fancied putting a wash on too?”

“...I don’t know just trying to be productive?” He was catching on, he was suspicious. You could tell. His eyebrows furrowed together and he delicately hovered the back of his hand over your forehead, feeling the undeniable heat radiate into his skin.

“And bleach?”

“Toilet needed doing anyway.” You mumbled, head turning to stare back at the TV- knowing his eyes were piercing into your soul. He sighed, in your peripheries you could see him shaking his head in slight frustration, as his hand reached for yours, giving it a squeeze.

“You’re ill aren’t you?”

“I’m alright-“ he cut you off with a low warning of your name, making you cower slightly because he’d caught you in a lie. “I threw up a couple times but now I just feel a bit ‘eugh’”. That was, to be fair, a completely truthful description of your evening and current situation. Maybe not put most eloquently but Tom definitely got the messsage, somehow reading your mind by lightly massaging your abdomen with his hand that wasn’t clasped with yours.

“Come on... let’s get you back to bed.” As much as you wanted to argue with him, it was clear any attempt would be futile. One of things you love so much about Tom is how fiercely protective he is of those dear to him. His circles progressively shrunk as he learnt who he could trust and who ... well he couldn’t. The culling had left a handful of people who were almost central to Tom’s life - somehow you’d managed to wangle your way into these select few too.

So no, there was not point arguing or suggesting he puts his own welfare first.

After putting you back int the double bed, Tom had disappeared for 10 minutes or so, when he reinterred the room it was clear he’d been busy. His tongue was stuck out in focus as he tried to balance different mugs and plates on a tray to you. Even if you felt shitty, for a moment by just seeing how far this guy had gone for you - you’d never felt better.

“Okay there’s some lemsip with honey to settle your stomach, water and a slice of toast just because you should probably see if you can keep something down.”

“You really are the sweetest.”

“And you’re the illest so get drinking love.” He laughed softly in the yellow glow of the bedside lamps that illuminated the room. It highlighted his prominent jaw line and the way his eyes crinkled in the corners and given your slightly off state, you might’ve spent a bit too long ogling at the man cosied up next to you. Never would there be a time you weren’t grateful for him.

Turns out you couldn’t keep the toast down but the experience was somewhat less horrific - this time you were spilling your guts out into your ensuite, while Tom held your hair and rubbed your back. Eventually things settled, allowing The two of you nestle back into bed, Tom wrapping his arms round your stomach to lightly trace random patterns on the skin underneath your hoodie - as you nestled back into his chest more.

“I really love you Tom”

“Love you darling, now get some rest and shout if you need anything.” You hummed lightly, almost letting go to sleep now your felt a bit less like your intenpstines were wringing themselves together. But not quite.

“I’m gonna miss you and your stupid face.”

“We can talk about that when your better” It was as if Tom thought whispering and drawing circles on your stomach was going to deafen you to his words. Yes your stomach wasn’t having a lot of fun and you were tired - but you were not deaf. It was oh so predictable too, he loved to be absolutely ridiculous. Indignantly you huffed, rolling over and eyeing him intently.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Just…. Just if your sick you shouldn’t be on your own. I could always just-“

“No no you couldn’t. You and me both know for a fact you do have a choice and even if you did it be pissing off a hell of a lot of people.” He pouted, you could tell even in the darkness of the night.

“I hate having to leave you though, especially like this.”

“Yes but you love your work too. I’ll be here when you get back… maybe just with a bit less intestines.” Laughing at that, Tom pulled you onto his chest, pressing his tips to the crown of your head as your burrowed into his side.

It can’t have taken more than 5 seconds for you to fall asleep, exhausted from the illness, the stupid time in the morning and maybe slightly for dealing with Toms idiocy.

You were awoken in the morning to Tom stroking your hair gently, all dressed and ready for his flight - but still finding the time to fuss over you and wanting to say a proper goodbye. After practically ordering his to leave… you best believe he dropped in the fact he’d got both Sam and Harry to come round as your babysitter.

He was an idiot. But he was your kind, caring , beautiful and loving idiot.

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