#sad to admit i have been neglecting my (other) boy in my content lately | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cheolism · 1 year

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good things from bad days

✧ wen junhui x f!reader ✧ summary: jun returns to the apartment after you've texted him that you've had a bad day. seeing you drunk, jun decides to take care of you like you've taken care of him. only you are much more honest with your feelings when you're not sober. ✧ wc is approx 5.6k ✧ tags: fluff and comedy; roommates-to-lovers, mutual pining. in a relationship but only you two don't know. domesticity, knowing someone intimately. drunken confessions. ✧ warnings: this is not edited. despite jun being sober while reader is drunk, he doesn't do anything that takes advantage of this. this is ultimately: we've loved each other for five years and you admitting you're in love with him while drunk gives jun the push he needs. drink responsibly, kiddos. ✧ drabble sequel here!!!!!

When you had texted Jun that you were having a bad day, Jun didn’t quite know what to expect. You had your fair share of bad days, unfortunately; Jun wished every day was filled with nothing but happiness and contentment for you, but he was just one man and couldn’t fight the whole world.

(Once, when you were having a bad day, a barista had nearly made you cry. She had given you a once-over, looking you up and down after you gave your order. Then she gave a little huff, irritated, before turning around and walking away.

Jun didn’t throw a punch at the barista because 1) she was, at the most, eighteen, and 2) it just wasn’t in his personality to do so. But he did leave a negative review and said he found a hair in his drink.)

Today had started out good, he had thought. But then around noon he got a message about your boss, and then twenty minutes later you were saying that you just wanted to be home, that you couldn't take another minute at work. His heart had broken, reading that.

But Jun did what he did whenever he noticed you were looking particularly sad. He went out and bought a bouquet of flowers, stopped at the little Chinese place that knew the both of you by name. Left a fiver at the little shrine in the back of the restaurant, placed his palms together, asked for your health and happiness, just as he always did whenever the two of you stopped.

“Say hi to your lover for me!” Auntie Meilan waved, grinning at him. “Bring them in next time!”

“I will!” Jun called back, saluting and neglecting to correct the Auntie that no, you weren’t his lover, you were just his longtime roommate that he had been in love with for far too long.

That was all.

Night had long fallen on the city, street lights dim and headlights bright. Jun hated getting off this late. He hated it because it meant he missed out on the normal mealtime for the both of you, and he knew that instead of you just making food for yourself or even making a meal and saving some of it in the fridge for him to have later, you would hold off on eating altogether until he got home so the two of you could share dinner and talk about your day.

Which was why he volunteered to grab food.

Jun’s stomach grumbled as he walked to the car, and if he was a lesser man he would’ve torn open the takeout box and ate his portion right then and there. But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. No matter how hungry he was.

“You wouldn’t be so hungry if you actually ate a meal at lunch instead of just eating those shrimp chips you like so much.” You had said once, watching as Jun tore open a container of cherry tomatoes and began eating them whole as soon as he walked through the apartment door.

He had gasped dramatically, and still chewing the cherry tomatoes, scolding you. “How dare you talk about my precious chips as if they’re nothing more than a mere snack! They’re in a league of their own, they deserve an entire meal dedicated to them --”

“Okay, shrimp boy,” you had amended, your brow furrowing in adorable concern. You had rounded the island and went to the cupboard, withdrawing with a box of pasta. “Hold your horses and I’ll whip up some pasta. Don’t make yourself sick on those.”

The smell of takeout permeated the car, to the point where Jun couldn’t even smell it over the vanilla scentsy you had gotten him. It took far too long for Jun to get to the apartment, and every time the light switched to red Jun wanted to just slam his foot down on the pedal and speed through the intersection.

But he didn’t.

The man with the french bulldog was walking the dog around the parking lot when he pulled in, and gave Jun a short wave in greeting. Spotting the takeout bags in Jun’s hands, he called out, “Must be your night to make supper!”

Ignoring how misogynistic that seemed and how Jun was the one to primarily make your meals, Jun gave the man a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, haha. Nothing like takeout on a Friday night!”

“Tell your sweetheart I said hi!”

Again neglecting to correct the man, Jun made his way into the building. He greeted the old woman who always sat in the foyer because you always greeted her, remembering how you once commented on how she must live alone or feel lonely, to spend her entire day in the front watching people come and go.

Jun took the elevator on the right, despite knowing that you didn’t trust that particular elevator and all the squeaking and moaning it did. He felt bad for the next person who would use the elevator, knowing they would smell nothing but delicious Chinese food.

As Jun shoved his key into the hole to unlock your apartment door, he got the distinct feeling that something was off. He didn’t know how he knew, but Jun knew without even stepping foot into the apartment that something was wrong.

This didn’t dissuade him; instead he hurried in, calling out for you as soon as the door was open.

“I’m home! Food is acquired and ready for consumption as soon as you are!”

He kicked off his shoes, ignoring the shoe rack you had insisted on buying, and made his way to the kitchen. He set the takeout on the island, peering around the apartment for you.

As it was Friday, the apartment was slightly a mess. Socks littered the floor, and Jun spotted your pants near the corner of the couch. He entered the space, noting the nearly-empty bottles of vodka and pineapple juice. There was an empty bag of chips -- his shrimp chips.

He called out your name again, rounding the couch. The living room blankets were in complete disarray, and your laptop was propped up on the coffee table. There were a few crumbs on the couch, and Jun spotted a muffin wrapper on the floor.

“Wen Junhui!”

Arms were suddenly around his middle, pulling him back and squeezing. Jun immediately knew it was you, and turned in your arms. You were already grinning up at him, slightly too-wide and with eyes that glittered brighter than usual.

“Junnie,” you whined, pitching forward and burrowing your face into his chest. Bewildered, but slowly coming to a realization, Jun wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you to him. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” he agreed. You tightened your grip around his waist, leading him into a swaying motion. “Are you okay?”

You pouted, resting your chin on his chest in order to look up at him. “No. I had a bad day. And I’m drunk.”

You may be drunk, Jun acknowledged, but you were no less beautiful than when he left you. You were smiling at him like he was your favorite person on the planet, as if he was the person most dear to you, as if he was someone you treasured and loved, and Jun couldn’t help but giggle and bend down to press a swift kiss to your forehead.

“Yes,” he laughed a little. “You are drunk. I brought food home.”

You gasped, mouth gaping and eyes widening dramatically. “For me?”

“For you!”

Squealing, you burrowed your face into his chest. He hoped you couldn’t hear the way his heart was threatening to leap from it. “You’re amazing! You’re the bestest!”

Squeezing you one last time, Jun reluctantly pulled himself away. While he loved hugging and loving you, and would gladly do nothing but that for days on end, you were drunk and vulnerable. “No, you’re the bestest.”

You frowned at him as he untangled himself, whining. Jun couldn’t help but coo at you, reaching out and pressing your cheeks together. You were so fucking cute.

“Noooo,” you protested, hands reaching up to cover his. “Youuuuuu!”

“I greatly disagree,” Jun said. He pressed another kiss to your forehead and pulled away. He rounded you, hands going to your shoulders, and began guiding you towards the kitchen.

Jun was careful to make sure you didn’t hit a hand or foot on the couch leg, gentle and slow enough to ensure you weren’t going to stumble. All the while you were chattering to him, telling Jun about a show you had watched as a child.

“I don’t know that show,” he admitted, guiding you to sit down at the island. He left your side to return to the takeout, pulling the boxes out of the bag and setting them on the counter. He then went to the dishwasher and pulled out chopsticks. “I grew up in China, remember?”

“Ooh,” you said, eyes wide. It reminded him of Bambi, almost, how innocent and sweet you seemed like this. You were always sweet, he knew, but there was something especially child-like about you when you were like this. “I forgot.”

Jun set your chopsticks in front of you. He then went to the cupboard and withdrew two cups, quickly filling them with water and setting them down on the island. “It’s okay. We can always watch that show later.”

You nodded somberly, puffing out your cheeks. He couldn’t help but grin at how intently you were watching him open up the takeout boxes, your eyes taking in his every move. Jun picked up his chopsticks and clicked them at you once, watching your eyes focus, before reaching for the box of noodles.

“Hey!” You snapped, reaching out and smacking his hand. Jun startled, dropping a blob of noodles on the counter. “Where did you grow up! In a barn? We use plates when eating in this apartment, young man!”

“Yessir!” Jun returned, roughly saluting at you. He stood up and went to the dishwasher, and when he set down two plates you gave him a sharp nod of approval.

“Good.” You glanced down at the mess of noodles. Frowning, you hopped down from the barstool.

“Where are you going?”

“To clean up your mess, Mr. Junhui,” you slurred, rounding the island to grab paper towels. He couldn’t help but laugh at the serious look on your face, as if he had committed a serious wrong.

He was going to clean it, of course, after your meal. But he said nothing as you walked to his elbow and leaned against his arm, reaching and collecting the fallen noodles. “Dirty boy.”

Jun nodded, still smiling. “Yes, I’m a dirty boy, aren’t I?”

You returned his nod, still serious. “But you’re my dirty boy.”

Suddenly feeling his heart warm with affection and adoration, Jun inclined his head. “Yes. I’m your boy.”

Satisfied, you tossed the noodles and paper towel into the sink and returned to your seat. You brought the plate between yourself and the boxes, and Jun watched as you, very carefully, lifted your chopsticks and grabbed the box of sesame chicken.

Even as the two of you ate, you were speaking. Jun listened as you talked about this woman at work who did nothing but complain about her children and husband, but then also said she was trying for a fourth, and how you didn’t think she had ever said a single nice thing about her family since you’ve met her.

Then you were frowning seriously at Jun, pointing at him with your chopsticks. “We won’t end like that no matter what, right, Junnie?”

“Right, darling.”

You set your chopsticks down on the table, reaching out with your other hand. Your hand wrapped around Jun’s cup and brought it to your lips. “Wait -- that’s my cup, I’ve already drank from it, it has my cooties.”

Jun watched you pause for a few seconds, eyeing him over the rim of the cup. And then you raised it to your lips and gulped it.

“There,” you said, sighing in satisfaction. “Now I have your cooties.”

You then opened up the steamed vegetables, delight taking over your features. Jun continued eating as you shifted through the vegetables, picking out the broccoli and placing each piece on his plate. Jun ate them dutifully, shoving each piece into his mouth.

“Careful,” you scolded, “you’ll choke.”

Jun watched as you then set down your chopsticks on the counter, the metal clinking against the surface. You pointed at him, peering at him with an extremely serious look on your face that didn’t really suit the situation and had Jun fighting to keep his smile off of his face.

“Listen here, Wen Junhui,” you slowly began, brows furrowing. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you to not stuff your mouth. But I’m serious. Choking is not a joke. It’s not fun. Have you ever been choked before?”

You had begun gesturing with your hands during your little speech, and at the end of your statement you waved your hand and sent your cup tumbling.

Jun jumped up, rushing for the paper towels and rounding the island. You were blinking at the water even as it dripped into your lap, and Jun shoved away the cuteness of how you looked, confused and taken aback, and ushered you off the stoll.

“Oh,” you mumbled, moving.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, “we just have a small ocean in our kitchen. I’ll clean it up while you get changed out of your pants.”

He spun a few too many towels from the roll, focusing on turning the cup upright and wiping down the counter before moving onto the mess on the floor. You were still muttering to yourself, and it wasn’t until you made a small “oh” sound, followed by the sound of something hitting the wall, did Jun turn around.

You were standing in front of him, legs completely bare and leggings sitting sadly on the floor from where you had thrown them against the wall. For a moment Jun couldn’t help but look -- look at your thighs and take in the shape of them, the color; his eyes trailed down over your knee and to your legs, taking in the spots where you had attempting waxing and given up halfway through, leaving bald patches on your leg surrounded by hair.

But fuck, if he didn’t want to wrap his hand around your leg and guide it around his waist, pull you tight against him and feel your body pressed against his.

“Staring is rude,” you said, flapping your hand towards Jun.

“Mm,” he hummed, turning his back to you. Jun dropped to the floor, beginning on the small puddle that had formed. “I won’t mention all the staring you do at me when I get out of the shower, then.”

“That’s not fair, though,” you argued. Jun stood, knees cracking, and watched as you stomped your foot. The fat of your thighs jiggled at the movement, and he wanted to dig his fingers into your flesh and see how it molded around his digits. “You know what you look like.”

“I do?”

“Irresistible,” you said matter-of-factly.

He echoed you, the word and its implications not really registering with him until he said it himself. And then the little light in Jun’s head flicked on, and he squinted at you.

It wasn’t like you made it a habit to be drunk; you didn’t. In the years Jun’s known you, in the years he’s been your roommate, he’s only seen you properly drunk a handful of times. But he knows what you’re like when you’re drunk: you’re giggly, silly, and honest.

“Alcohol is like a truth serum for me,” you had told him after a few weeks of meeting. “Get me drunk and I’ll tell you anything. It’s why I can’t be President: I’d reveal all the State secrets.”

And sure enough, Jun found out that when you were drunk, you were incredibly honest. He could ask you any question he wanted and you would answer. He had once tested this by asking you if you had ever lied to your grandma before. Sober you had frowned at him and shook your head, saying you had nothing to really lie about; drunk you had bursted into tears, sobbing about how you had lied to her about your whereabouts on your 21st birthday by saying you had been safely drinking with your friends at their apartment instead of being out at clubs.

So: drunk you was as honest as you could get. You weren’t inherently dishonest, but all of the little things you were ashamed of or kept secret bubbled out.

Irresistible.

Truthfully, Jun wanted to poke at this some more. He wanted to ask you to elaborate, and he knew that if he was quiet for much longer you would elaborate yourself.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

It felt wrong doing that. You trusted him. You trusted him when you were sick, when you were drunk, when you were in tears; you trusted Jun when you were at your most vulnerable, and taking advantage of you in this state, even to just question you about your feelings towards him, was wrong.

Jun instead began talking, filling up the empty space with his own chatter in order to get your mind off of him in the shower. He narrated what he was doing as he did it, loudly, speaking everything as it appeared in his mind.

“I’m going to throw away these towels. I know you don’t mind it when I leave wrappers around, because you do it too, but I know you hate it when dirty things are left. Like I remember you scolding Seungcheol for leaving his sweaty undershirt in our bathroom.

“Gosh, I’m going to have to take the trash down next time I leave the apartment. I know you don’t mind doing it, but I also know you don’t like it particularly either. I’m okay with that. You do enough for me, I don’t mind doing this.”

Jun rounded the counter once more, reaching out for you. You went easily, hugging yourself close to him. Despite the alcohol you had drank, you still smelled like you: fresh linen, oranges and lemons, the sort of things that reminded Jun of home. His favorite smells in the world.

He swooped down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, smoothing your hair away from your face. You blinked up at him lazily at the gesture, eyes taking just a moment too long to open. “Ooh, are you my tired baby?”

You hummed, nodding sleepily. Then you opened your eyes, your arms going over Jun’s to wrap around him in return. “Yes. Your baby.”

Jun tapped his hands against your lower back, leading you into a sway. You complied easily, grinning and rocking back and forth. Your warmth was pressed against his front, your weight in his arms a comforting one.

Sometimes he felt selfish for having you like this. Like he was keeping you from someone, like he was wrong for keeping you a secret from the world, keeping you up here in your shared apartment.

Sometimes it felt wrong, leading you into a dance during the late evening, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your forehead. But the thing was, Jun wasn’t stupid.

You didn’t share an apartment with someone for nearly five years without there being something. You didn’t settle into a routine for five years, didn’t spend hundreds of nights pressed together on the couch watching television; didn’t wait up until late in the night for him to return, didn’t welcome his mother and little brother into the apartment with welcoming smiles and hugs.

He didn’t remember the last time you went on a date.

Or: Jun didn’t remember the last time you went on a date that wasn’t with him.

Yes: Jun wasn’t stupid.

He saw it. He saw how you took care of him, how you always made sure his favorite snacks were in the cupboard; how you went out and bought new soles for his shoes when he complained about his back hurting too much; how you looked at him when he wasn’t looking, how your voice always took this gentle tone with him, as if he was someone precious, someone you treasured.

He knew you were in love with him.

Just like he was in love with you.

But actually saying it, actually bridging the gap?

Jun sighed, pulling away. He looked down at you, his darling sweetheart with sparkling eyes. He brushed your hair back away from your forehead. “Let’s go find you some pants, baby.”

You blinked up at him, seemingly unable to process. Then you pouted, lips poking out and eyes furrowing.

Oh, how cute you were --

“‘m not cute,” you childishly protested. You blinked again, and Jun felt his heart plummet when your eyes took on a red hue and tears began to swell.

“Baby!” He gasped, hands moving to hold your cheeks. Jun brushed away the tears that began to drop with the tip of his fingers, feeling concern bubble up within him. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“You just --” A little sob left you, and you threw yourself forward and into his arms. Jun stumbled back at the sudden addition of your weight, his arms wrapping tightly around you. You nuzzled into him. “You just take such good care of me, Junnie.”

Jun chuckled, squeezing your shoulder. “I’m just returning --”

You shook your head against his chest. He reached up and brushed your hair back again, revealing a single red eye and tear tracks on your cheeks. “You don’t understand, Junnie! You -- you’re so good and handsome and sweet and silly, and I love you so much.”

His heart thudded against his ribcage; he was scared it was going to burst from his chest entirely.

Jun smiled down at you nonetheless, cupping your cheek in one of his hands. “And I love you.”

“No,” you shook your head again. “You don’t understand. I love you. Like. Like Captain Ri loves Seri.”

Jun’s heart flew out of his chest and left the building. It fucking flew away, soared through the sky and and rounded the earth. As a matter of fact, it took his brain with him, and the two decided to fly up to the moon and wave at the stars.

“You -- like. Like marry me levels of like?”

“Yes,” you sighed, as if he was dull. “We’re gonna move out of the apartment because we can’t have cats and then move into a little townhouse and adopt two of them so they don’t get lonely, and I’m gonna buy you a ring to match mine and we’ll share a bed and I love you so much.”

Jun’s heart returned to his chest and was fluttering and acting as if it were a butterfly trapped within his ribcage; his brain, however, was still up with the moon and sun.

Then you grinned up at him, tear tracks still visible against your cheeks. “Dude, we should adopt like, twelve cats.”

And he remembered the bottle of nearly-empty vodka, the spilled water, and his sensibilities. You were drunk, and while you were an honest drunk, it wasn’t fair of him to do this.

It wasn’t fair of Jun to pester you further, to make you unravel all your secrets; not when you were vulnerable like this. No matter how much he wanted to, how much he yearned to know about the sincerity of your words, he couldn’t.

Jun pressed a kiss to your forehead again, closing his eyes and exhaling. He felt you mirror him, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his chest.

“Love it when you give me kissies,” you mumbled against him.

“Well, I love kissing you.”

You blinked owlishly up at him, mouth agape. “Really?”

He laughed, both hands going to cup your cheeks and hold your face so he could press another kiss to your forehead. “Really, darling.”

Your smile was brighter than any star or sun in the universe. If you were sober, Jun would swoop down and press a kiss to your lips, but alas.

Instead he began guiding you towards your room. “I think we should get some pants on, don’t you? Wouldn’t want you getting cold. I heard that if you get too cold you turn into a penguin, no joke.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” Jun returned, reaching over to turn on the light of your room. Your room was messy, proof of how hard of a time you’ve been having lately. Clothes were strewn about, and your blankets were in a tangled mess. One of your pillows was on the foot of your bed, and your precious stuffed koala Jun had gotten you during one of his and Joshua’s dates to the fair was on the floor.

“People don’t turn into penguins, Junnie,” you said.

“They do if they’re cold,” Jun said. He left you standing in the doorway, moving to your dresser and pulling out a pair of sweats. “That’s how we got penguins. They’re just evolved from cold people.”

You were squinting at him when he returned. Jun held out your pants for a few moments, but you made no move to grab them from him. Finally you took your pants, holding out your hand; he offered his arm, and you held onto Jun as you slowly stepped into your pants one foot at a time.

“I want you to know that I know you’re making this up,” you told Jun.

Jun laughed, shoulders shaking. He ducked his head, blonde bangs obscuring his vision. Your grip on his arm eased, and your other hand was smoothing back his bangs and revealing his eyes once more.

“There you are,” you cooed at him, “my pretty boy.”

Then you yawned, wide enough to where Jun swore he saw down your throat. Despite seeing that, Jun still felt nothing but love for you as you blinked up at him sleepily, smiling like a dope.

“Okay, why don’t you lay down in your bed?” Jun pulled away, capturing your hand and pressing a kiss to your fingers. “I’m going to go get you some water, and then I’ll be back. All right?”

Jun returned to your room a few minutes later, cold cup of water in one hand and headache pills in the other for the morning. Despite the overhead light being on you were splayed out on your bed, face down and limbs going in every direction.

He paused for a second, worried. Then he saw your back slowly move up and down. Assured he hadn’t walked in on a crime scene, Jun continued his way into your room. He set the cup and pills on your bedside table before leaning down and yanking the blankets out from under you.

Grumbling, you rolled over on the bed and allowed Jun to gather the blankets. He took a few seconds to unravel them, and when he did he laid each one over your body.

You hummed in approval as he tucked the blankets around your body, patting your arm and legs as he did so. “All snug?”

“Snug,” you agreed.

Jun grabbed your koala off the ground. He hugged it to his chest, breathing in your scent that had rubbed off on the stuffie. Jun pressed a kiss to the koala’s forehead before setting it on the bed next to you.

Your breathing was completely evened out as he smoothed your hair away from your face. He traced his fingers alongside your temple, your cheek. He ran his pointer finger over your nose, feeling the decline of it. Your lips, feeling the plush flesh give beneath his finger, watching as you subconsciously licked your lips.

God, Jun was a fucking creep.

Jun pressed a kiss to your forehead, finally retreating. He made his way from your bedroom, only pausing when he got to the doorway. Jun hovered his hand over the light switch for a moment, hesitating. And then:

“I love you.”

And the light was switched off.

You were conscious for only a handful of seconds before you were fleeing from the warmth of your bed and sprinting to the bathroom, the pressure of your bladder too great to wait a moment longer.

Jun was laughing loudly through the bathroom door, and you opened it once you were finished washing your hands. Glaring at him, you flicked your still-damp hands at him, splashing him with droplets of water.

“Hey!” He laughed, reeling back a little. His eyes were sparkling, and his pretty pink lips were parted to reveal his grin. “Stop bullying me!”

“You’re the bully,” you mumbled, reaching up and shielding your eyes. Natural sunlight shined through the windows of your living room, reaching into the bathroom and offending your sensitive eyes. You shot Jun a glare as he laughed some more, flicking off the bathroom light and retreating to your room once more.

The sound of footsteps followed you. “I left some medicine by your bed for your headache.”

“Don’t have much of one,” you replied.

“Probably because you’ve slept until three in the afternoon,” Jun returned.

You spun around, eyes wide. Jun was leaning against your door frame, arms crossed over his chest. The sleeves of his grey t-shirt were rolled up to reveal his biceps, which were constantly gaining size as he increased his visits to the gym. His blonde bangs brushed against his eyes, and you couldn’t help but follow their movement as he flicked his head to get them out of his eyes.

“Three?”

“In the afternoon,” Jun finished. You sat down on the edge of your bed, crossing your legs. Jun sat down next to you, though he laid back and let his arms fall above his head. “Should’ve woken me up.”

“I tried, Grumpy,” Jun said. He reached out and tapped you, and you fell back to lay beside him. “Several times.”

“Evidently not hard enough.”

“Next time I’ll play the trumpet, if you want.”

“I guess that’ll work.” You stretched your arms over your head, and when you rested them your pinkie was brushing Jun’s. You tried not to think about it, but every time your fingers brushed it was as if every nerve in your body was concentrated on that one point. “I wasn’t horrible for you last night, was I?”

Jun shook his head. You turned your head slightly to see him already staring at you; when your eyes met, he smiled. “You’re never horrible for me when you’re drunk. Now when you’re sober --”

“Oh, hush,” you said, reaching out and slapping his arm. He let out a small noise of pain, but you ignored it. You shifted onto your side, leaning down and looking at him. “I really didn’t do anything bad?”

Humming, he tilted his head. He moved one hand to rest behind his head, and the other reached up for you. Your eyes fluttered as his hand brushed over your forehead, fingers gliding through your hair. “Nothing bad, but you said some interesting things.”

Fuck.

“Fuck,” you hissed. Your heart began to pick up speed, as if you were standing in front of a thousand people getting ready to perform a song you’d only heard once before. “Fuck.”

“Don’t worry!” Jun assured you, his fingers tracing over the shell of your ear. He pinched the lobe of your ear, causing you to wince. “You only confessed that you found me irresistible. And that you love me like Captain Ri and Yoo Seri love each other.”

You furrowed your brow, watching Jun. He stared up at you, eyes half-lidded, lips twisting into a little grin. He looked perfectly at ease, but at the same time, there wasn’t a single hint of true mischief on his face.

“Did I really?” You asked, voice small.

Jun nodded. His fingers dipped underneath your ear and traced your jaw. “Really. It was cute.”

“And?”

His fingers rested on your chin. He shifted his hand, and then his fingers were brushing against your lips. You let Jun trace your mouth, still leaning over him, heart beginning to calm. Jun’s touch was easing your nerves, and his apparent acceptance and serenity soothed you into following suit.

This was what often happened, you knew. Jun and you were both introverts; you didn’t like new situations. You hated crowds, hated the loudness of them and how close everyone stood together; you hated the unknown. But then when Jun was beside you, his features neutral and seemingly unbothered, it did something to you. It was as if his tranquility tricked your anxiousness, leaked into your soul and tamed the rough seas.

“And,” Jun murmured, “I love you.”

It was like when you found a blanket at the store and sunk your fingers into it, the feeling of smooth softness encompassing your digits completely. But instead of just your fingers it was your entire soul.

It wasn’t a big revelation, you thought; not a huge unknown that needed to be answered.

It was just another fact of life, you figured as you lowered your head to Jun’s. He shifted, elbows pressing into your mattress, raising himself to you. It was just another fact. The sun was yellow, the moon was white, the ocean is big and Wen Junhui loves you.

With your lips pressed to his, you had one last fleeting thought before his mouth consumed yours entirely: now you didn’t have to feel bad about not correcting the Aunties at the restaurant about him being your boyfriend.

#!!!!!!!!!#my fic #was going to publish this last night but my phone fucked it up #jun #moon junhui #wen junhui #jun x reader #svt jun x reader #moon junhui x reader #wen junhui x reader #svt #svt x reader #svt fic #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt jun #my writing

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hawkinsindiana · 3 years

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this changes things

ALMOST PARADISE: PART THREE - CHAPTER FOUR OF ELEVEN (!!)

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 2.3k

a/n: we’re back to eleven chapters baby!!!! this one ended up being longer than i thought. i know i usually post on friday nights, but i couldn’t help but give you all a lil valentine’s day treat. pls enjoy!!!!

masterlist

Steve’s nervous.

It’s down to the wire; there's only a few short weeks left of his final high school semester. Four out of five college applications have been rejected. Each one received has fed the anxiety more and more.

Every day that passes without a lick of news from the remaining university has him reconsidering everything. His education. His career. His future.

The only thing Steve knows about his future is that he wants you in it, in whichever form that might be. You’re the constant. Without you, he’s afraid he’d eventually go back to being that person he was before. You make him want to be better. Trying to be worthy of you gives Steve purpose.

He imagined that getting a college education would help keep him on that path. It seems farther away with each rejection letter he receives.

Steve hasn’t told you that he hasn’t gotten into any so far. He’s afraid of disappointing you, especially after everything you’ve done for him.

The spring of ‘85 has been particularly unforgiving. It’s been storming all week - the air still hangs with that familiar smell of rain soaked concrete. You read that the Hawkins Post reported a record amount of rainfall; the local stream overflowed and flooded a few basements.

The mail is still damp when Steve retrieves it after practice. It sticks to his fingers as he shuffles through each envelope, drying his sneakers on the welcome mat.

And then his eyes linger on one addressed to him; Steve nearly drops his backpack when he sees who sent it.

Haphazardly, he tosses the rest of the mail onto the kitchen counter as he contemplates whether to even open the damn thing. Steve’s pretty sure he knows the answer. Is it an answer he wants?

Whatever the words inside this parcel read, it changes Steve’s life forever. His future is planned from the moment he breaks the seal - there would be no going back. Either he stays here in Hawkins, trapped by an education he neglected for far too long, or he gets to take a step to distance himself from this shitty town and prove his worth.

Steve isn’t a fan of the former option.

He wishes you were here to read it for him. He’d rather you tell him the news; hearing it come from your lips would make it easier.

By the time Steve decides to open it, a few minutes have passed. Why does this feel like the scariest thing he’s ever done?

Due to the water, some of the ink bled through the paper; pieces of the letter are illegible. But at the top, a familiar phrase answers his question: Unfortunately, we regret to inform you-

Steve curses, angrily throwing the envelope and its contents into the trash. He refuses to read anymore.

He has no one to blame but himself. Maybe that’s why he’s so angry. There were multiple opportunities for him to change course and put effort into his schoolwork. By the time he finally tried, it was too late.

Thunder booms in the distance once Steve parks his car beside your mother’s. He doesn’t remember deciding to come here; the only thing he can recall is grabbing the keys, without a destination in mind. His heart brought him to your warmth.

As Steve gets out of the car, he wonders if this was maybe a bad idea. It isn’t very often that he feels afraid to face you - he’s scared of your reaction, and the outcome that could follow.

He knew that he could love you, that he could fall just as hard as you did for him. But admitting it to himself, and then you - he doesn’t know if he has the strength to do it again. That phrase has left a sour taste in his mouth, one that Steve hopes he can wash away. Because you deserve to hear it too.

Maybe he’s closer to saying it than he thought, perhaps that’s why he’s so scared to tell you. Maybe-

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Dustin’s voice startles Steve, who turns to see the boy walking his bike up the driveway. Steve fumbles his response, head spinning with thoughts about you, “I don’t, uh-”

Dustin interrupts him, not noticing the nerves Steve displays, “Hey, you should come in! It’s mac ‘n cheese night.”

Steve hangs his head in defeat, knowing that he’s going to follow your brother inside. He can’t say no to this kid.

Dustin hangs up his raincoat once the pair of them enter the house; the bell on Tews’ collar jingles as they run to greet the boys. The kitten weaves between Steve’s legs before he kneels down to give them a few pets.

“That you, Dusty?” Your mother calls from within; clattering silverware echoes from the kitchen. Steve chuckles at the nickname. Dustin punches him in the bicep.

He kicks off his shoes as he replies, “Hey Mom! Get out another bowl - look who I found loitering around.”

Steve scoffs, shoving Dustin as they walk forward through the threshold into the living room. Your mom moves to welcome them; her warm smile widens when she sees Steve by her son’s side, “Well look who it is! Steve, sweetheart, how are you?”

He’s baffled by her every time he shares a meal with your family. Her kind soul is infectious, and drastically different from the parents he was raised by. Steve tries not to think about the fact her beloved pet is secretly buried out back - he’s reminded of it whenever he sees her.

“I’m good, Mrs. Henderson. How are you?” Steve answers, returning her grin. She envelops him in a quick hug, “How many times am I going to have to tell you? Just call me Claudia, hon.”

Steve laughs along with her as he follows her to the kitchen, “I think you’ll need to remind me one more time.”

And then his eyes meet yours from across the room. They smile nearly as much as your lips at the sight of him; your heart flutters at this unexpected surprise.

When you catch onto the sadness in his expression, the corners of your mouth drop. It’s obvious to you that something’s wrong. Steve doesn’t usually stop by without an invitation; something must’ve happened.

Throughout dinner, you take mental notes on his deflated behavior. It’s subtle enough to fool your family, but you know him better. With each minute that passes, the more anxious you become to hear the cause. So when he volunteers to help you with the dishes, as he always does, you know it’s only a matter of time.

“How was practice?” You ask before drying off a cup. Steve takes it from your hand as he replies, “Uh, it was good. Although it’s annoying that we’re still practicing even though the season’s over.”

You hum in agreement as he places the glass on the shelf. Steve glances back at you briefly, “What about you? What’d you get up to?”

A beat passes - you’re looking for the words to describe your afternoon. Maybe not the words, but the courage. It’s only when he turns around, brow creased, do you answer him.

“I studied at Nancy’s,” You say. Steve’s eyes widen in surprise, “Oh yeah? How’d that go?”

You nod your head, focusing your gaze onto the floor, “It was nice, actually. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be.”

“Now when you say studying…” He trails off for a moment as he thinks, “You two didn’t… exchange notes about me or anything, did you?”

Steve’s growing smirk makes you laugh; you hit him playfully with the towel, “No! And I haven’t told her, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

A part of him can’t help but be relieved. There’s no limit to what you two could chat about.

“We just ended up talking about college most of the time,” You add, “She wanted to know some tips since she’ll be applying soon.”

Steve grabs a plate to dry; in order to try and quell his anxiety, he has to do something productive. But your mind recognizes it as a distraction - you’re no stranger to coping mechanisms.

“Have you figured out where you’re gonna go yet?” He questions, praying your answer isn’t far; lightning flashes outside the kitchen window, followed closely by the low rumble of thunder.

You sigh as you lean back against the counter, “I’m not sure. Nancy was helping me talk through my options earlier, but it’s such a big decision to make. I wanna make sure it’s the right fit.”

Steve nods slightly, forehead creasing as he wipes his hands on the towel. And by the way he clenches his jaw at your reply, you know that this is the source of contention.

You nudge his leg with your foot, “What about you? Get any responses back?”

The breath hitches in Steve’s throat; there’s no way this conversation doesn’t end with his reveal. The longer it takes for him to speak, the more concerned you grow.

“I, uh-“ A sigh passes his lips as he grips the counter, keeping his focus away from you. He doesn’t want to witness your reaction.

“I didn’t get in,” Steve mutters. He exhales, shaking his head in disbelief; until now, it almost didn’t seem real. It took admitting it to you for his brain to accept it.

You shift on your feet, unsure of what to say. Over the past few weeks, you and Steve had been discussing how your relationship would persist once you both had made your college commitments. This wasn’t an outcome either of you prepared for.

“Holy shit, Steve. I’m sorry…” You whisper. Steve pushes his face into his hands; his voice is muffled from behind his palms, “Yeah, yeah… holy shit.”

You don’t hesitate any more to comfort him. Steve straightens as you place your hands on his arms; he melts into your touch, unable to prevent you from turning his body to face yours.

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” You reassure him, “College isn’t the only option, you know. There are other things you could do.”

The expression on Steve’s face breaks your heart. You’d do anything to wipe it away and brighten his mood. But Steve just sighs again, appreciating your efforts to help him, but nothing seems to be working.

“How’d your parents react?” You ask. The only thing keeping Steve grounded to this moment is the firm grip you have on his shoulders; he thinks he’d float away without it.

He scoffs a bit; the sound breaks the deafening silence that formed as he thought of a response. His eyes are still focused downwards as he finally answers you, “They don’t know yet. I just got the last letter today. I couldn’t think of going anywhere else.”

When your fingers brush against his cheek, Steve instinctively moves his hands to rest on your waist, “I’m sorry, I just-”

Steve finally lifts his head. Your eyes are wide, pupils filled to the brim with nothing but your fondness for him. All of a sudden, he’s confused why he was so scared to tell you. He realizes that he never should’ve doubted you.

“I was scared this would change things. Or that you’d be disappointed in me or some shit.”

Your brow furrows as you laugh softly - baffled by his words, “What could ever make you think that I’d be disappointed in you?”

A flash of previous memories answers your own question. You decide not to pull on that thread anymore.

“This changes things,” You mutter. Your eyeline drops as you pause, choosing your words carefully before continuing, “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Finally, Steve feels a bit of relief. The sincerity in your voice calms the fear, and a deep exhale allows him to let it go. Your compassion and understanding permits him to begin thinking clearly again. He knew there was a reason he came here.

You’re right though. This does change how you both navigate the future. But with you here to support him, Steve figures he’ll be just fine.

“I mean…” The corner of your mouth curls up at the thought that pops into your head, “The only way my opinion of you changes is if you killed my brother or something like that.”

Steve chuckles slightly, “But Mike’s still fair game?”

“Oh yeah, go ahead,” You quip, “He’s had it comin’ for a while.”

Even though your voices are hushed, the joke still makes you crack a pair of brilliant smiles; it almost makes Steve forget about his future for a moment. Standing here in your arms, Steve can’t help but realize how safe he feels.

And then you sigh, reaching up to brush back a lock of his brunette hair - the sensation of your touch fills Steve with something new, something different. A direct contrast to the violent storm brewing outside, this is soft, warm, and golden. Like daylight.

Your eyes meet again. Honestly, he’s not sure he ever wants to look at anything else.

Your hand lands on his chest, “This doesn’t make me love you any less.”

Steve throws caution to the wind - he kisses you. And already, you can tell that this is one you’ll remember. His lips are soft against yours, but without sacrificing an ounce of passion. You almost forget that someone could walk in and expose your relationship; when Steve finally pulls away, it doesn’t matter anyways.

As if you weren’t left breathless enough from his kiss, the words he mutters afterwards could’ve done it themselves.

With one of his trademark smirks plastered across his face, Steve moves to hold your head between his palms, “Fuck, I love you.”

You kiss him again so quickly that you both didn’t have enough time to wipe the twinkling grins from your lips. Your noses are squished against each other, but neither of you cares enough. Your shared love dulls the pain.

Steve smiles into the kiss even further. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.

— taglist: @djjarin / @hannarudick / @crazycookiecrumbles / @hellisateenageheather / @alewifex / @l0ve-0f-my-life / @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 / @daddystevee / @thecaptainsgingersnap / @let-the-imaginationflow / @asianravenpuff / @im-a-stranger-thing / @mikariell95 / @pilunb / @harringtherin / @royalestrellas / @ultrunning / @buggs177 / @poutfull / @yoheyyosup / @duchessdaisybat / @janieavalos / @sassisaluxury / @beththebubbly / @i-bitch-you-bitch / @captainstilinskis / @juliebean247 / @im-nada / @whatabeautifulsurrender / @rexorangecouny / @pass-me-jeez-it / @ahoy-scoops-troop / @halefirewarrior / @jointhehunt67 / @peanutem / @ketchuplukehemmo / @m-a-r-i-n-t-p / @fangirl485 / @emmegirl827 / @lookalivesunshine-x / @elite4cekalyma / @marjoherbo / @just-my-fandom / @idumpyourgrass / @alafolieee / @mochminnie / @phantomalchemist / @dustyblueboo / @alonewolfsblog / @ggclarissa / @hufflepuffing-all-day-long / @bippityboppitybabe / @readinthegarden12 / @bakugouishusbando / @stxtch72 / @random-girl-army / @wisdaemon / @thatawkwardlittlefangirl

if you want be added to the taglist, just lemme know!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #st fic #st imagine #steve harrington x you #my writing #almost paradise

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pleasantanathema · 3 years

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Graves into Gardens | Reiner Braun x Reader | Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Revelations

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Modern AU, spoilers up to season four, slight manga spoilers (only by including characters met later), captivity, mentions of death, violence enemies to lovers, angst, and eventual smut (ohohoho we’re so hot on it now, just wait until the end of this one)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Thank you so, so much to everyone who has left comments, screamed in reblog tags, and just encouraged me to create this story. I have never felt so much love for a fic in the time I’ve been writing.

This chapter reveals a lot, and it’s a little longer than the rest, but it’s for good reason- the end of this is one of my favorite things I’ve written.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Reiner’s apartment truly wasn’t much. You thought he’d been joking, perhaps was even being humble, but the small studio apartment was quite dismal. The walls were stark white, a few faded posters peeling off the wall from neglect, a couple of medals and trophies lining a small bookshelf that was bursting with paperbacks and notebooks. A simple bed with a royal blue comforter and overstuffed pillows, the most compact L-shaped couch in front of a tv, and a corner dominated by a desk with two monitors and stacks of documents, manila envelopes, and crates of papers crammed below.

A kitchenet that looked hardly used was tucked away in another corner, the entryway to a small bathroom right near it.

There was truly nothing worth looking twice at, save a handful of framed photos scattered around.

You’d taken it all in rather hurriedly, still out of breath from practically running through snowy alleyways, the developing snowstorm covering the land like fresh linen. There was a window near his bed, which you gravitated toward after kicking off your damp boots by the door. Not much a view, either. Just more desolate, brick buildings and a sorry looking street below.

He told you once that he didn’t grow up with much, and it unfortunately seemed like despite joining the ranks of the military, he was still left with close to nothing.

“What are we here for?”

He was busy toiling with the thermostat, thick fingers mashing against the heat button to try to warm the small box of an apartment.

“You won’t like it,” he grumbled, golden eyes glancing over to you with a tinge of regret painting his brow.

“Then why bring me?”

“Because you need to see it.”

You tucked your hands under your arms, the chill of the winter’s day finally settling into your bones.

You watched keenly as he shrugged off his snow laden jacket, hanging it by the door before promptly locking it. He seemed as out of breath as you were, nose red from the cold, hands shaking as he fumbled with his phone. You bit the inside of your cheek with impatience, a small flame of ire licking its way into your chest.

Bringing you out here could get you killed. He knew that, right? Of course he did, but he did it anyways. Surely this matter of seemingly great importance could’ve been fetched by one of his comrades. You hadn’t quite considered the danger leaving the headquarters could bring upon you until you were dashing through the streets, the heavy paw of Reiner’s hand squeezing around your wrist. At one point in time, he’d shoved you back down another corridor, shielding you with the size of his body as particular caravan of cars turned down the roadway. He seemed to fear any pair of government eyes spying you.

He always was so careless.

He was busy texting someone, still standing idle, lip worried between his teeth.

Must be the girl you ran into that’s giving him a headache. He probably thought he could slip out and back again without a soul noticing, without anyone giving him grievance, but that bright eyed little cousin of his had ruined that. She’d been so excited to see him; he probably hadn’t been to see his family quite a while, seeing that he was on guard duty after his last mission.

How many days had it been since you’d been here? You’d honestly lost track of time, your world feeling like it had been caught in a slow turn of molasses. A few seconds could feel like hours, days felt like minutes, every heartbeat felt like it could be your last. You tried to add it all up in your head, eyes closing as you replayed all the events that led to you standing in Reiner Braun’s home in Marley.

A week and a half, you surmised. But it could be a little more, a little less. You think you would have kept your eyes on the sun a little more acutely, seeing that you’d missed it rise and fall for at least two days when you were bound in that cell.

“Are you alright?”

For a moment, you thought you had spoken the words. You were thinking them, but he asked you instead.

“That’s a loaded question,” you looked back down to the street, catching the sight of a line of what appeared to be school children marching in tandem down the sidewalk, snow in their hair and happiness on their faces, “but for the moment, I’m okay.”

Reiner pulled his lips to the side, considering your words. Maybe it hadn’t dawned on him that you couldn’t have been in any state of ease since you’d been promptly abducted and plopped down in this new world to navigate.

“Are you alright?” You encored, observing how his worried thumbs were still fast against the screen.

“Have I ever been?”

You made at face at that reply, corners of your mouth turning down while your shoulders shrugged. Fair enough.

Though, for the first time, a bit of pity crept into your mind. Reiner didn’t really ask for this life, did he? He was doing whatever he could to get by, fallen rather inelegantly into the position of being sent to Paradis, and was now being handed you to watch over, presumably without his full consent. You were both pawns in this world, kings and rooks dominating the board and playing you both for fools.

Being a Scout hadn’t been your intention, either. You’d once had other dreams: college, a career, a family, but you’d been grandfathered into the role by your government working parents, and cemented into it when they’d died. You had nothing else to do, so you served. You served your country, your friends, but you also served yourself, using the role to keep your life afloat, even if it sometimes meant spilling the lifeblood of others, even if it meant sacrificing aspirations and settling. Though, you would admit that some rather beautiful things managed to bloom from the barren soil. Regrettably, those had all been left behind, washed away by tides you couldn’t control.

“I’m sorry,” Reiner grunted, sinking into the cushions of the couch, “she—she already opened her mouth. I’ve gotten Annie to settle things at HQ, but I imagine Chief is still furious.”

“Is it such a bad thing to take me out here? I mean, you could easily stop me if I tried to run away.”

“Could I?”

You debated his question. While you were quite nimble, you’d be like a rat in a maze trying to find a way out of this god forsaken place.

“If I let you,” you reasoned, a tinge of humor behind your words.

He smiled, all warm and soft, full lips parting. The realization that you hadn’t seen him smile in years pummeled into your chest like a heavy hand stealing from your lungs. It made the sorrow that much more palpable.

“For the record, Zeke is more upset I didn’t ask permission. He’s hellbent on his authority.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

You also pinpointed something else of note, a picture glinting on his nightstand catching your attention.

It resembled the same one you’d seen on Zeke’s desk, only now you could make out the faces. Reiner didn’t pay you any mind as you reached for the framed memory, plucking it from its home, dust from the back of it staining your fingers.

A red booth housed five familiar faces, all grinning over half-drank pints of beer. Their arms were interlocked around each other’s shoulders, all the men young and handsome, Reiner and Bertholdt even more youthful than when they’d first walked through the doors of the Scout Office. Then there was Zeke seated next to Porco, the latter in that green jacket you’d seen him in earlier. But your eyes were set on a face you’d never thought you’d see again, a face that possessed the very recesses of your mind, only appearing late at night when you’d see it in corners, catch it lingering behind your eyelids. He was attractive, appeared personable, messy dark hair and distinct brow that matched the boy next to him.

“Reiner…” you whispered, still unmoving from your spot between the bed and the window pane, “who is this?”

He peered over his shoulder, any hint of a smile now vanished like etchings being erased from a page.

“You don’t recognize him?”

Him, a photo full of faces, and he knew who you were asking about. He’d probably stared too long at the ghost himself. You wondered if he ever placed the frame down at night to sleep better; you would have, if you’d killed someone you cared about.

“You know I do.”

Reiner held his hand out, long arm stretched across the back of the couch. You finally talked your feet into moving, shuffling across the hardwood as you placed the offending item into his upturned palm.

Then, you sat next to him, your knees bumping together as you tried to analyze the emotions stirring within. You couldn’t quite place any of them—Regret? Fear? Curiosity? Sadness? But they were quelled when Reiner placed his hand on your twitching thigh, pressing that anxiousness away for a moment.

“Marcel Galliard, Porco’s older brother.”

Your lips parted, both of your attentions centered on the souvenir held between you.

“It was his birthday, and we hadn’t had the chance to celebrate mine and Zeke’s yet either, so we all went out for drinks. I unfortunately don’t remember much from that night, but I remember being…happy, content.”

“Why’d you do it?” you asked it a little quickly, “why would you…save me, not him?”

“I told you, some things I don’t have a choice about.”

“But you—you could’ve said he killed me and got away, right? You did have a choice.”

You saw how his jaw clenched, muscles in his cheek flexing.

“I don’t know.” Agony lined his voice, the words soft, hushed.

That situation was something you both thought about far too often than you’d like to admit, a late-night mulling that never led to conversation.

“I’m sorry.” You took the photo away, placed it face down on the coffee table.

“Don’t be. We can’t change the past,” he said solemnly.

You could, however, lament it. Which is something you did perhaps too often.

━━━─── • ───━━━

Reiner wasn’t ready for what was to come. He knew he never would be, which is why he threw precaution to the wind and decided to lay his cards on the table now.

He had to pick a side. Even if these wars didn’t truly concern him, even if the fate of countries ultimately didn’t matter to his conscious, you did—you mattered, he mattered, and he had to start thinking about things on a smaller scale.

He wanted to go back to Paradis. He practically yearned to go back in time, to return to a place where being Eldian didn’t matter, where his status didn’t matter, where he could remake himself into something new. If it hadn’t been for his binds connecting him to Marley, he could’ve actually seen hope instead of sorrow on the horizon. He could never seem to cut the vines, could never actually get away from the people controlling his life.

But now, now he saw an out, and it was with you. When this cataclysm first happened, all he wanted was for you to be dead, for you to go away and leave him and his miseries alone to rot and wither. Being with you, however, reminded him of a life he could have. He just had to make it happen, he had to start molding his own clay, had to keep bearing the weight of the world like the weary Atlas until he could find a way to make it turn in his favor.

He was tired of wishing for death.

Which is why he had to bring you here and why he would handle the consequences that were waiting in the distance.

You might not be very helpful to Marley, but he could be of use to Paradis.

“I believe you,” he hadn’t noticed he was still touching you, fingers gripping onto your leg like a lifeline, “about Zeke. I believe you because I—we, Pieck, Annie, Bertie—we know he’s up to something beyond what he tells us and the generals. He is working with someone in Paradis. We don’t know who, but we do think we know what for.”

“Oh my god…oh my god. Why didn’t you—”

“You think I can just fucking say that when anyone could be outside my door listening?”

“I thought you said I wouldn’t like what you have to show me.”

He noticed how your shoulders relaxed, like you’d been holding in tension for far too long.

“That’s not…I have something else for you.”

He didn’t move just yet, not quite ready to actually set this all in motion.

This all hinged on you. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew you quite well; of course, that was the you of four years ago. The you he had next to him now was older, scarred, burdened, but he still felt that same magnetic pull to you that he could never explain. He was just a moon consigned to orbit you, to be connected to you even when neither of you desired the attachment.

He knew you were going to be upset, livid; his skin was already prickled at the thought of how you would possibly punch him if when you read what he had to give.

At least you always looked pretty when you were angry.

He could still remember how Jean had cowered undeath his desk when you’d stomped into the office after discovering he’d used the branch’s own money to play in a high-stakes poker game while undercover. He’d been fishing for information on the elites, found himself tipsy, and then found himself on the receiving end of your fury. The only thing that stopped your yelling was Erwin, who, for personal reasons, didn’t want any fuss made over government money being gambled away.

Erwin. He’d never cared for how close you were to him.

Reiner finally stood, expecting you to sit and wait, but you were following him like a shadow, small hand wrapped around his forearm as he moved to his computer. When he sat down, that hand moved up to his shoulder, your fingers squeezing into his muscle with encouragement. It didn’t really put him at ease.

He turned the desktop on, the monitor flashing to life. He typed in his password quickly, then went searching for that folder he’d kept hidden away so he’d never bother to look at it again.

“Hand me one of those,” he nodded his head in the direction of a small container of flash drives on the other side of his desk. You plucked one out of its resting spot and went ahead and placed it into the port on the computer. He knew you wouldn’t question why had so many on hand—you both knew how it all worked, you both kept important documents that had to be shuffled around digitally.

Familiar names lined the inside of the folder, ones he’d once tried to forget. He heard you suck in a quick breath and took a moment to look up at you. Your brow was set, tongue obviously caught between your teeth to keep yourself from saying anything.

This was his job. He was in charge of keeping tabs on The Scouts, he was the one who fed Marley all the information they could. Well, almost all of it.

“These are files I never gave over. They’re yours now. I never gave Marley everything they wanted I…I thought I was protecting you. There’s also a few files on Zeke that Pieck created in here, too.”

You both watched as he copied the folder over to the flash drive, one by one the names and dates slowly dropping into a new safe place for them.

He touched your waist, signaling you to step back. He rolled his chair out, ducking under the desk for a split moment to gather a box of the printed documents he had actually handed over; the action was a mistake.

You were leaned over him in an instant, hand clutching and moving the mouse so quickly it scraped against the desk. He attempted to reach up and stop you, but he paused—there were still bruises on your wrist, on your fingers, faded watercolors of surviving pain. He’d gripped your hand, your wrists, all day, why hadn’t you stopped him?

He already knew which file you opened; he didn’t need to look. But he did anyways, moving the crate to the side and sitting back in his chair, arms crossed across his chest. His poor heart felt like it was going to burst.

Marco Bott’s face filled part of the screen, all sweet and freckled like he remembered. Those kind eyes were looking straight at him, judging him. Reiner was just waiting, he knew what was said in there, he wrote it all, still recalled how puffy his eyes were when he did it, how much he regretted it.

There was a pregnant pause, one so heavy he felt like he was being crushed.

This all hinged on you. He needed you to help him, needed you to help you.

“I fucking knew it.”

He was already flinching, shrinking. He watched the screen scroll, the black letters and white spaces all a blur.

“Threat eliminated by gunfire, killed by organized crime members after…” you hesitated, eyes dancing as you reread the words, “after his gear was removed to ensure death.”

He was on his feet before you could hit him, backing away from your clenched fists, chair rolling to be forgotten in the corner.

“What. Did. You. Do?”

Each word came with a step toward him. He was running out of space, nearly tripping over the edge of the couch as you encroached upon him.

“What did you do?” Your voice was getting louder, pain written across your face like he’d just stabbed you. “You told me there was no fucking truth about Marco!”

“There isn’t! Marco’s dead, there’s no changing—”

“There’s no changing the past,” you mocked his words, venom dripping from your tongue.

━━━─── • ───━━━

Your blood was boiling, wrath itching between your fingers.

You were going to kill him. You were going to wind your fists around his neck and watch the life drain slowly from his eyes like he fucking deserved.

You couldn’t believe you’d let you guard down, that you’d started to trust him. You always knew something had gone awry the night Marco died. He’d been slaughtered, ransacked with bullet holes across his body. It was like he had been dropped into the line of fire, dangled out like a piece of meat to be eaten alive.

And he didn’t have his gear, that’s what stumped everyone looking into the mess of it all. It was like he had walked in unprepared, like a boy on a suicide mission walking straight to his death. Thirty-six bullets and even more empty, splattered holes littered had riddled his corpse. Jean had fallen to his knees. Connie didn’t speak for a week. Sasha didn’t eat for days.

Because of Reiner’s decision, that man suffered, you all mourned, and you felt like you most of all had let him down. Marco had been your protégé, you’d taught him everything he knew, and that was the first mission he was allowed to go on after his training. You’d been tailing a rather violent gang, found their hideout, and were infiltrating for arrests and to see what was inside. Marco had been paired with Reiner and Bertholdt to lead the first wave of infiltration, while you and the rest waited for the signal to rush the back doors to the run-down ranch not far out of the city of Trost. They’d been up ahead by the barn that was sandwiched between stables.

But your signal turned to sounds of gunfire. You could still hear it echoing in your ears as you approached Reiner. The sounds of metal clicking, of repeated blasts from automatic weapons ringing across the hillsides like single note windchimes in a raging storm.

“Tell me why.”

Your fingers were digging into his shirt before you could stop yourself, the threads of the worn Henley threatening to rip from your nails sinking into it. You could actually feel his heart beat against his chest, a frightened bird trying to flee his ribcage.

When he didn’t speak right away, your anger flared, made you shove him back against the wall with all your might. It made your arms hurt, like you’d just slammed your hands against brick, a sharp pain that made you hiss.

“He overheard us—”

“Overheard what?”

You could tell he was getting a little infuriated as well, nostrils flaring as he looked down his nose at you. It must look funny, you pressing him against the wall of his own apartment. Reiner was nearly twice your size—he was bigger than most people, and he towered over you like a looming threat.

“Let me fucking finish,” he took a deep breath, eyes nearly glazing over, “He overheard Bertie and I talking about how we should relay the details of that gang, of organized crime in general, to Marley. We—we hadn’t had time to talk alone since we’d been prepping that shit for days. We didn’t know Marco followed us around to that side of the rooftop.”

��That’s it? He heard you whispering little secrets and you killed him for it?”

One of the buttons near the neckline of his shirt popped as your knuckles dug deeper into the fabric.

“He literally heard us say that we needed to find a time to call General Magath of Marley. If he lived and told someone that—,” his breath caught for a moment when one of your nails started to pierce his skin, “it would have compromised our entire mission. We’d been there for three years, and he could’ve ruined it all.”

You were at your breaking point. You could feel that terrible heat that comes with sadness creeping up your neck, snaking around to your cheeks. If you weren’t careful, you were going to cry. All this time, all this time spent wondering why, and this was why he had to die?

Killing wasn’t unusual in your life. It was part of the job, something you’d unfortunately had to do on a few occasions. You knew those strangers who ate your bullets or your knife had families, that they were people too, but most of them were monsters, thieves, rapists, threats to the corrupted balance of the governmental structure. But Marco…he was like family, and finding his limp, almost unrecognizable body had sent even the most hardened veterans into despair. Levi took off from work the next day; the only time he had ever missed a day on the job.

“Tell me how!” You truly didn’t mean to scream it, but the emotions raging in your stomach, your chest, it all ached too much.

“Be quiet, I have neighbors—”

“I don’t give a fuck about your god damn neighbors, Reiner!”

He finally moved then, his once idle hand now jerking up to your face to fiercely hold your cheeks beneath his fingers. You tried to smack his hand away, your own fingers digging and tugging at his wrist.

“Letme-go!” Your words were jumbled, your open mouth allowing his fingers to press your cheeks in between your teeth.

“You have to be fucking quiet,” he hissed, a whole new light shining in his eyes, a familiar rage you had seen when you’d fought against him the day Paradis was invaded. The reality of how large he was sunk in again; he looked like a vengeful god peering down at you, all hot-blooded and incensed.

You thought for a moment he wouldn’t hurt you, but then you remembered he already had. He had the inclination to be just as cruel as you could be.

His fingers stayed firm against your cheeks, holding you like he was daring you to speak again.

“Tellmehow,” you managed to spit out, wincing when he took the leverage he had on your face and used it to shove you back. You stumbled, banging into the side of the couch as you rubbed at the sore flesh of your mouth.

But he was unmoving, back straight against the wall, a statue built on the foundation of wrath and agony, waiting to crack and fall onto you if you made the wrong move.

“We knew their guards were patrolling. Bertholdt covered his mouth while I stripped him of his equipment, of his guns, and I pushed him off the roof and into their sight.”

He said it so calmly that it made you sick. But that was a reality he had to live with every day, wasn’t it? He had to replay in his mind over and over again that he had done such a vile thing, he had to justify it else it would eat him alive.

Your tears were hot, but contained, your lashes blinking them aside as you just stared at him. You opened your mouth to scream at him, you were so ready to spew hatred and let it burn him, but he was quicker than you.

With one step, he was on you, your hair wrapped in his fast as he wrenched your head to the side, smarting your scalp to silence you.

“Marco’s dead, and I’m sorry for it. You fucking screaming will do nothing but have the assholes who live below me calling the authorities and you’ll find yourself in a much worse prison than before.”

You didn’t like how he was right. Still, you glared up at him, brows pinched together in pain.

It felt like you’d merged into him, those rapid hearts within your chests suddenly beating as one with the same suffering, the same torment. You both had to live with the poor reality of your lives; you were killers, you were monsters too.

You were too close to him, could smell the heat of his skin, could feel his breath against your sore cheeks. Your hands were flat against his chest, trapped between you, his arm an anchor as it tugged at the roots of your hair, keeping your face turned towards his.

You couldn’t help but look at him, there was nowhere else to focus, only on him. It was like you could see the pages of a book open across his face, wretchedness and anguish painted in broad strokes in the fair wrinkles around his eyes, in the curve of his brow. It was beauty and pain bleeding together, the amber color of his eyes swirling as he searched your own face like he was looking for something. What would he find hidden behind your own grief?

“I hate you,” you whispered, breath long gone.

“I know.”

“And I’ll never forgive you.”

It was like he was moving closer, the time you were losing now completely stopped, frozen between your bodies.

“Don’t want forgiveness,” he caught your whisper and gave it back, “just judgement.”

His lips met yours with a bruising fervor.

The hand in your hair flexed, pulled you closer, made you gasp as your hands slid up his chest. Your fingers found his rumbling throat, and in the back of your mind, you recalled how just moments ago you were waiting to snatch the life from his neck. You felt his pulse beating beneath your thumb, a war drum beating hot and fast in his veins. Your mouth was moving against his, eyes closed, suddenly greedy and hungry; for what, you didn’t know. All you did know was that this felt so wrong, like you’d taken a misstep and landed right into the lion’s lap, but that it also felt like absolution, like he was devouring your sins and taking them for his own.

Your mouth slanted for him, a hum resounding from both your throats as you fell into this new, strange rhythm. You’d thought about it before, kissing him like this, feeling those plush lips against yours, angry and hot and needy. You cherished the taste of him, like a dark, rich wine filling up your mouth, spilling over and enveloping your senses. Your tongue tempted him to open his lips, to let you in. There was no hesitation.

His other hand found your hip, fingers mean and pulling you impossibly closer. Your palms drifted up from his neck, found his face, thumbs smoothing over cheekbones. You could feel the soft hairs of his cheeks, his chin, sweeping against your skin. It all felt too good, like you were getting lost, delirium taking over. Nothing else mattered anymore, just the gratification of tasting his emotions, of taking his groans into your mouth and echoing them back. You pressed harder into him, kept your tongue tangled with his, noses brushing as you found new beats to your rhythm.

It was wicked, sinful, something your heart was pleading for and your mind screaming out against. But you couldn’t stop. You didn’t stop. It was as if you kissed for as long as you’d known each other. Every year passed by, every regret, every sharp turn of your tongues against one another, all the hurt and longing, placed into one moment of your bodies finding one another.

When the heat began to die, you were both still stroking the flames, deep, languid kisses turned into smaller presses of your lips against one another. It was intoxicating and you felt so drunk, so, so drunk off of him.

There was a stillness between you, like the gentle sigh and breaths of the world as it awoke to the morning sun when you finally stopped. A lulling peacefulness lingered in the wake of what you’d done.

His hands were still on your body, in your hair, looser now. Yours were still on his face when your eyes fluttered open.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, lips plump, wet.

“I know.”

Next Chapter

#reiner braun #reiner braun x reader #reiner x reader #snk reiner #snk reiner braun #AoT #aot reiner #aot reiner braun #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #snk fanfiction #snk x reader #reiner x you #reiner braun x you

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savagesbonergarage · 3 years

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ok, i need SMUTTY thrawn. like anything you wanna write

Don't we all 😏

I’m weirdly a little upset with Thrawn right now for ridiculous headspace reasons, so this is gonna be interesting. I think I have a good idea, though...We’ll see how this turns out lol

Update: Wow this has a lot of feelings??? Apparently I needed to get that out of my system *shrug*

A/N - Tried to write this for a gender-neutral reader so let me know how that works 🤐, longer than I expected but what else is new, yeah feelings like I said, but it turns into you domming Thrawn so I think it’s worth it, face-riding, cumming in pants, role-play? kinda?, the smut’s at the end

Thrawn

“Neglect”

“What is this?” you asked with a knowing curiosity and no small amount of irritation in your voice.

You held the painted helmet in your hands, Thrawn’s gaze never leaving it until he eventually answered you through a defeated sigh. “It belonged to one of the rebel captives I’ve been tracking. The boy Jedi.”

“I see...” you retorted unflinchingly, inspecting the crude loth-cat design on the front of it through hardened, yet undeniably sad eyes. “So this is what you’ve been up to this entire time? Spending your vacation working instead of...”

Instead of being with me, like you’d promised.

The chiss finally rose from his seat, although he still couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. He was fully aware of the situation he’d created, of the promises he’d made and failed to keep, and most importantly the lies he’d told in order to continue tracking this particular band of rebels. “I...I apologize for disappointing you.”

You uttered a scoff, nearly rolling your eyes at his words. After finally catching him in the act when he’d sworn he was too tired to stay up with you and was heading straight to bed all these nights, it was difficult not to take this revelation a little personally. Not to mention his superiors had specifically instructed him to use this shore leave to actually relax and enjoy himself after his continuous dedication to the Empire and his duties without fail or complaint - and when he’d arrived with more luggage than usual, you interpreted that to mean that he was intending to stay the entire length of his trip this time with no intention of returning to work early as he typically did - however, that extra baggage was ultimately filled with rebel artifacts that he was fully preparing to study.

“I’m not disappointed, nor am I surprised,” you admitted through a sigh, moving to stand straight across from him with only the width of the helmet between you as you continued, “I don’t know why I was expecting this time to be different from any of the others. I know you. When you’re dedicated to pursuing something, there’s no stopping you or trying to change your mind.”

His lips parted as though he had something to say, but ultimately decided against it. He must have seen through your facade of trying to keep your expression firm as he gently spoke your name, and you silently cursed yourself for never being able to keep a straight face. You caught his hand when he moved to bring it to your cheek, only holding it firmly in mid air as you kept your head down while you asked him the question that had been plaguing your mind for years.

“Are you still pursuing me?”

You clutched his hand even tighter, your frown already shifting into a grimace as you stared straight down into the visor of the helmet. This talk wasn’t one you’d been particularly looking forward to having, especially since you more or less already had a preconceived notion of what his answer would be. Perhaps your relationship really had changed, and rather than voice it outright, Thrawn expected you to determine the status of it through context to avoid having an uncomfortable conversation. It certainly didn’t feel like the two of you were lovers anymore, and with this revelation that he had the time for intimacy if he desired it and was choosing his usual activities over being in your arms, there was little reason to believe otherwise.

The helmet was abruptly removed from your hands and placed elsewhere, with the hand that was holding yours moving to snake around your waist as you felt him pull you against his broad chest. It was a kind gesture, but what you really wanted was a definitive answer.

“Thrawn-”

“I’ve always been adept at coursing after my targets,” he began with an ounce of regret in his somber tone, “yet I find that the ones affecting my career operations tend to take precedence over the ventures in my personal life.”

You’d already known that much, and yet the sinking fear that came with the prospect of the inevitable “it’s not you, it’s me” parting discussion still began to overtake you. It felt like you were going through all the stages of grief all at once - denial, anger, bargaining, depression...but you weren’t ready to accept this just yet. You weren’t sure you ever would be. Anger was definitely occupying the forefront of your mind; anger at Thrawn, anger at the Empire, anger at yourself...you wouldn’t be enduring all of this if you’d never fallen for him in the first place. You just had to go and fall in love with a man that was emotionally and physically unavailable, didn’t you? You’d known at least some extent of what you’d be getting into when you agreed to be his significant other - that your rendezvous together would be short-lived and few and far between, with his work always taking priority over you, but this...knowing that given the choice, given the mandate, he was still choosing the rebels over you...

It hurt.

You were tensing up in his arms, doing all that you could to keep the tears from forming. If only to encourage the transparency you wanted to see from him, you began solemnly pouring your thoughts out against his chest, the release of the words you'd been keeping to yourself for so long aiding in your preemptive recovery somewhat.

"I've often thought about joining the rebellion just to reclaim some of your attention," you admitted, the statement sounding more pathetic to your ears than you'd anticipated, "I've never been an artist, but I like to imagine what it would be like if I made rebel propaganda for you to find. I've wondered if you'd even be able to figure out it was mine, and that with every stroke it was really just me trying to tell you..." ...that I love you.

You hadn’t realized you were crying until you felt yourself involuntarily choking on a sob, and before you could hide your face from him his hands were caressing either side of your jaw and pulling you up into a deep, tender kiss.

How long had it been? When was the last time you felt his touch like this, let alone a kiss? It almost didn't feel real, and you instinctively returned his vigor to make sure it wasn't all just a fantasy. Your tears were stinging against both of your faces now, and Thrawn drew back to wipe them away with the pads of his thumbs. His glowing red eyes were so melancholy, his brows threading into a line as you held his indigo hands to your face and leaned into them, as though the warmth of his skin was a rare sensation that you were savoring to remember back on when you'd be without it again.

"My love..." Thrawn began, his voice soothing as he brought his lips to the tender flesh of your ear, "if I've been so neglectful of your needs that you would become my enemy to be closer to me, then I've failed you so much more exponentially than I ever could have surmised. For that, I am so, so very sorry."

Part of you perked up at the implication that perhaps he wasn't intending to cut ties with you just yet, although it was clear he had much more to say. You brought his hands down to your chest and interlocked your fingers with his, holding onto them for dear life as he continued. "I...I have become consumed by my mission. My mind won't allow me any reprieve unless I've made substantial new discoveries and analyses concerning these rebels on a constant basis. I haven't faced any challenging opposition like them in quite some time, and to feel the invigoration of facing a worthy opponent with the potential to outmaneuver me...it's...addicting."

You listened to his confession intently, relieved to have him opening his heart to you once again. You brought his hands up to your mouth and smiled with amusement before you placed a kiss against them and bore into his concerned gaze with a look of alleviation gracing your own features. “I think I’m beginning to understand where your superiors were coming from when they demanded you take this leave.”

Thrawn’s countenance softened as he returned your smile, even managing something of a titter while he brought your own hands to his lips. “Am I that insufferable?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

He flashed his teeth in an impudent grin, moistening your skin with his lips as he resumed speaking against it. “Reassuring, as always.”

“Thrawn...” you spoke gingerly as the seriousness of the conversation recommenced and you withdrew your hands, rubbing the place where his warmth had just been while you gathered up the courage to proceed with your thoughts, “I need to know where we stand. It would have been stupid of me to expect our relationship to be like anyone else’s...I’ve been aware from the beginning that your duties come first, and I’m perfectly content with that. I want to see you succeed, and I love that you’re so persistent and driven. But...”

“I know,” he interjected, his guilty conscience evident simply by the tone of his voice, “my behavior as of late has been inexcusable. You mean so much more to me than I’ve led you to believe. It has been despicable of me to overlook your wishes in favor of my work when it is unnecessary. I...I love you, and...I’d like to make it up to you.”

Your heart breathed a sigh of relief, remedied by the fact that it still belonged to him. Before you knew it, you were back in his arms in an instant and planting another passionate kiss at the corner of his mouth while you grasped at his light civilian clothing. “Do you mean it?” you asked before he could properly perform the action in return.

“Of course. There are few things I wouldn’t do for you.”

For you, that was about as good as anyone else saying that they would do anything. Some things were off the table, such as leaving the Empire or betraying the Chiss or halting his investigation of the mysterious alien race that posed a threat to the entire galaxy - but other than that, he was yours, and that was more than enough.

“I might already have a few ideas...” you admitted pleasantly, capturing his lips in a more heated kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His smile granted you more access to the rest of his mouth and you obliged, nipping at his skin and warring with his tongue as both of your actions became more lascivious. It wasn’t long before you felt his warm, strong hands snaking up your bare abdomen while you fumbled with the clasps of his shirt, though it become more difficult to concentrate once he reached your chest and focused his activity there, drawing a moan from deep within your throat. Taking note of your struggle, he briefly took his hands away from you to discard his top and aid you in removing your own.

“I’m intrigued by these ideas, if you wouldn’t mind enlightening me,” Thrawn said as he reached both arms around you to grasp your behind and knead it through the fabric of your pants while he continued to kiss you along your temples and hairline. Your mouth was too busy peppering his pecs with kisses and love-bites to really say much, but that was alright - you were more of a demonstrator, anyway. You brought his hands to your sides and he helped you slide your bottoms down, giving your ass an excited smack once it was bare for him. He attempted to sneak a hand around the supple flesh of your inner thigh and curl a few digits upwards, but you smacked it away.

“Ah-Ah,” you tsked, guiding his arms away from you entirely. He started working at the sealing strip of his own waistband, but again, you stopped him. “No.”

“No?” he asked, a brow raised in amusement but also plenty of genuine confusion.

“No,” you reaffirmed as you stepped completely out of your pant legs and planted your palms onto his chest, pushing against him with enough force to influence him to step backward. The pressure was continuous, so he didn’t stop until his back hit the cool metal of the durasteel wall behind him. “You’ve kept me waiting for a long time, Admiral.”

“I...yes,” he uttered, slightly taken aback by the firmness and determination in your voice, and especially the mocking tone you used with his moniker, although he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy it.

In an impressive display of flexibility, you raised your leg up until your heel rested in the curve of Thrawn’s neck and over his shoulder, holding him in place as you stared him down with an air of dominion. “I’ve lost most of my patience,” you explained as you applied a significant amount of strength down through your foot and into his muscle, indicating once again that he was to move. He did so silently this time, enraptured by your confidence as he slid down until he was sitting on the hard ground. Your foot didn’t let up, adding more pressure as your tone became a little more demanding. “Down. All the way.”

He obliged, shifting downwards so he could lean back onto his forearms and lower himself completely onto the floor. Your foot remained on his shoulder, a smile contorting your face as you could see he was taking in the view and enjoying it, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His eyes eventually met yours, giving you an innocent and questioning look as he spoke.

“Would you like to take this outside of the office? To the bedroom, perhaps?”

“Here’s fine,” you retorted smugly, and for a moment your attention was captured again by the painted rebel helmet that was perched atop the desk beside you. You took it, examining the artwork on the front one more time before you smirked at the curious Chiss beneath you and donned it upon your head. His breath hitched when you suddenly dropped to your knees over his chest and slid your hand around to the apex of his skull, lightly grabbing a fistful of previously perfectly slicked-back hair before gazing straight down into his crimson orbs.

“Are you still curious?” you asked with an inflection of authority.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion before he spoke lowly, just above a whisper. “I believe I understand.”

“Good,” you began, positioning yourself directly over his face as you pulled his head forward so that the tip of his nose was only centimeters away from the source of your pulsing heat, “...you kriffing Imp.”

With that, you saddled his face and sighed when you felt the hot wetness of his mouth envelop you, the room quickly filling with the sounds of the obscene slurps and smacks of his ministrations on your flesh. Your other hand grasped another lock of his hair as you bucked against him, his tongue finding all your most sensitive spots as it darted over them, and all the while you carefully supported his neck while he fucked you religiously with his face. You looked down at the master tactician through half-lidded eyes before throwing your head back in ecstasy, feeling the creep of your climax edging closer and closer. You were having a difficult time catching your breath, and eventually you decided that this sensation ought to be somewhat mutual.

You reached your hand back behind you and starting palming Thrawn’s erection through the fabric of his pants, earning an approving sigh between your legs as you stimulated the head through the still-expanding wet stain of his precum. You jerked him as well as you could in tandem with his movements, struggling to suppress the moans and expletives that erupted from your lips as he went at you even harder. His hands gripped your hips with a cautious desperation as both of your breaths became increasingly ragged, and it wasn’t long before your thighs were quivering against his ears as your orgasm crashed over you in waves of absolute pleasure. Your gasps of euphoria coupled with the intensified friction of your touch had Thrawn stilling and slightly jerking his hips not long after, finally leaning his head back away from your entrance as his face flushed while he came in his pants.

The both of you relaxed as you were overtaken by the surge of your highs, and after a while you managed to shift downward so that you were straddling his waist as you removed the helmet and set it aside. You returned your attention to the handsome, feverish warrior panting beneath you and moved a stray strand of his mussed hair back into place. You leaned forward and kissed him gently on his swollen lips, not minding the taste of yourself as you rested on top of him and listened to the accelerated beating of his heart together with yours.

And when his arms wrapped around you while he planted a loving kiss on your forehead, you looked up at the ceiling and pondered just how much work he’d get done the next time he studied that helmet.

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x reader #grand admiral thrawn x reader #thrawn smut #lemon #star wars rebels #star wars x reader #star wars smut

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juviaafullbuster · 4 years

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Can you do 12 for the story list? We never see Juvia ever express how she feels when she's sad. Maybe Gray talks to her about it. Also I really like your blog!

Heyy Anon! Thank you, I'm really glad you do! Also thank you so much for the request. I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but I hope you like it 💙

Angst - Prompt 12:

"Holding everything in doesn't help, you know."

When Gray first voiced his concern, his friends gave him a questioning look. To them Juvia wasn't any different than usual. She still had her sweet smile on, she still greeted everyone warmly, still clinged to Gray every time she saw him. Same old Juvia.

But Gray knew better. They did live together for six months after all. And he had learned quite some things about her during that time. One being that Juvia tends to keep a lot to herself. It might surprise people because she seems so open with her emotions, especially the ones regarding him, but she tends to keep a lot to herself. Crazy woman, always worrying about being a burden.

Gray stole a glance at her. She was seated with Cana and Lisanna, listening closely to whatever the two were saying. She wasn't engaging in the conversation, just listening and nodding along sometimes. She was smiling. To anyone else it would seem that she was content. But not to Gray.

No, he could see the way her shoulders were tense. How she kept stealing glances towards the clock. How her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. There was a distant look hidden behind her facade. Something was definitely off. And whatever it was, Gray was determined to find out. Because it is Juvia, his Juvia. The one who always looks out for him and makes sure he's alright. And he'll be damned if he doesn't do the same.

***

Later that evening Gray made his way over to Fairy Hills. He knew boys weren't allowed and Erza would surely kill him if she spotted him there but he would have to deal with that when it came to it. For now, his focus was on the water mage that had left the guild hall without telling him goodbye earlier. Yeah, something was definetly wrong. And he was about to find out what it was.

Gray glanced up to the window Juvia had pointed to once. She had told him that it was hers in case he wanted to sneak in. Back then he had just told her she was being crazy. And now look at him, he was doing exactly that. Who is the crazy one now?

Shaking the thought away, Gray focused back on his task. He used his ice magic to form a ladder and climbed up in hope that Juvia left the window open. When he arrived upstairs he had to learn that she didnt. He knocked on the window a few times, hoping to gain her attention. After his fourth knock, Juvia finally came out of the other room, a questioning look on her face. When she spotted him however she froze before breaking out in a huge smile. At least he had accomplished one thing. She came over and opened the window gesturing for him to come in.

"Graysama, what are you doing here? Not that Juvia minds but it is very unlike you to climb into a womans room during the late evening.." He could tell her fantasy was already running wild and he let her imagination run for a little before shaking her out of her trance.

"Alright, spill it."

"Spill what?"

"What's wrong?"

"Juvia is afraid she doesn't know what you mean."

"I mean, what's wrong with you?"

Juvia looked taken aback for a moment before tears started forming in her eyes. "Nothing is wrong with Juvia.. Why would you ask that? Do you think there is something wrong?"

Shit. That was not what he meant. How could he be so bad with words?

"No, Juvia. I didn't.. I didn't mean it like that. Don't take it the wrong way, nothing's wrong with you. I just had a feeling something's off, you've been acting different.. you didn't spend much time around me today."

"Does Graysama feel neglected?"

"WHAT!? What are you talking about. That's not it at all."

"Oh.. Then what is it?"

"Juvia, I like to think that I know you very well by now. And something's definitely going on with you. First I thought I was just being crazy, everyone else said you were being your usual self. But I've been watching you closely and I can tell that you're not like usual. Something must be bothering you."

"Graysama was watching Juvia?" She was looking at him with big eyes, a slight flush on her cheeks.

"No! I mean yes, but- it's not like you think.."

"Juvia understands. You watched her because you were worried about her."

"Exactly."

"Graysama is so sweet, worrying about Juvia." She pretty much had hearts in her eyes at this point and Gray found himself blushing. He turned around, awkwardly scratching his neck. This conversation wasn't going anywhere.. and then he realized.

This conversation wasn't going anywhere for a reason. She was trying to avoid the issue by getting him flustered and drifting off topic. And he almost fell for it.

"Alright, sit down."

"So bossy.."

"I'm serious Juvia. We need to talk. Stop trying to distract me and be honest. What is it, what's going on?"

He stared at her waiting for a response. Juvia tried to hold his stare but he was determined. It took only a few seconds for her to give up and look away, staring anywhere but at him.

Her shoulders dropped in defeat and the mask she had on fell. When she looked at him again, she was frowning, a sad and distant look in her eyes. Seeing her like that, it broke her heart.

"Juvia.. what's wrong?" Gray sat down next to her. It was an unusual sight, seeing Juvia like that.

"It's nothing.. Really, it's sweet of you to worry but Juvia is fine."

"Seriously? Juvia you're obviously not fine so don't pretend to be. I'm not leaving until I know what's wrong. So you either talk now or I'll be spending the night."

"Graysama wants to spend the night with Juvia?" She smirked, looking at him with a gleam in her eyes. Gray felt his cheeks warning up and he looked away.

"Nice try. But don't try to drift off topic."

"Really, Graysama, Juvia is fine. She's just a little tired that's all."

"Listen, I understand. I know what it's like to not want to burden others with your issues. Trying to keep everything to yourself, acting like you're fine when you're not. When my parents died, when I lost Ur. When I found out the truth about what happened to Ultear, when I lost my dad again. I've been there. I shut myself off, tried to carry it all myself. And do you know where it got me? I turned cold, distant. It damaged my friendships. I was a mess Juvia.."

She was listening closely. Gray watched a tear roll down her check. He wiped it away before giving her a small smile.

"I dont have to tell you all that, do I? Because you were there when I finally broke down. While we were living together. When I couldn't hold back anymore, when the nightmares became too much. You were the one who held me and told me that it will be okay eventually. The one who listened to me. Do you remember what you told me that day?"

Juvia looked down, confirming that she indeed still remembered. But he was going to remind her of her words anyway. He put his hands on her cheeks, tilting her head up and making her look at him.

"Holding everything in doesn't help, you know."

It was what it took for Juvia to finally let go. She broke down, crying her heart out while clinging to him desperately. Gray held her close, stroking her back in an attempt to comfort her. Slowly her sobs became quieter until they died down completely. She still clung to him and didn't make any indication of letting go anytime soon. Gray just continued holding her, wishing to shield her from all the pain in the world.

"Juvia is sorry.."

Gray stopped her before she could continue. "Don't be. It's okay to not be okay. Stupid trying to hold everything in. I'm here for you Juvia, whenever you need me. Don't carry everything by yourself. Okay?"

She looked up to him before nodding her head in agreement. He smiled at her softly and she laid her head back on his shoulder. He saw that there were still some tears rolling down her cheeks but at least she seemed calmer, a little more relaxed. Gray held her closer, an attempt to tell her that he's here for her. He always was better with actions than words.

"Thank you Graysama."

"Don't thank me. I didn't do anything.."

"You did a lot."

They sat in silence, enjoying each others presence and comfort. Gray wouldn't admit it loudly, but he needed this just as much as Juvia.

"Hey, Juvi."

"Hm?"

"Want to tell me what happened?"

There was a moment of silence before Juvia moved away from him, freeing herself from his hold, in order to look at him. Gray had to admit that he missed her warmth immediately.

"Juvia will tell you, but.."

"But?"

"But only if you stay with her after too.. everytime I think about what happened nightmares follow so Juvia can't sleep."

"That explains why you appeared so tired. How long has this been going on?"

"Two weeks. Since the last mission I took."

"Juvia, what happened on that mission?"

"You're staying with me?"

"Of course. I'm not planning to leave your side anytime soon."

"So Graysama is spending the night with Juvia?"

"You want Erza to behead me?"

"Juvia would never let anyone hurt you. When it comes to protecting you not even Erza can stand in my way."

"Well, in that case.. I guess there's no reason for me not to stay."

Gray laid down on her bed and pulled her down with him. She rested her head on his chest, while he wrapped his arms around her protectively, pulling her closer to him. He heard her sigh, prompting him to tighten his arms around her. They both stayed silent for a moment, enjoying each others presence and the peace before Juvia took a deep breath and started telling Gray about the mission that she had finished two weeks ago. He listened closely while rubbing her back comfortingly. It wasn't long until the tears were rolling down her cheeks again. Turns out her mission wasn't as successful as Master had first told them. Yes, Juvia did finish the job, but there were some complications she hadn't told anyone about until now.

Juvias job wasn't a hard one, she was just supposed to hold a water show at a little girls birthday party. The girls father however was late. He should have been there an hour ago and they were still waiting. They decided to start without him, despite the girls protest. Turns out her father was her only family. Just a little later however random people came to the house, talking about an accident. By the time the news registered, Juvia was already holding on to the little girl, a desperate attempt to shield her from the world, the pain.

"Gray, she was shaking so bad and then she broke down because she realized what happened. And all that on her birthday. And I was there. I was there Gray. I could have went to look for him after he was late. I could have found him. And maybe it wouldn't have been too late the. If I had-" Juvia didn't manage to finish her sentence. Instead she clinged to him desperately, sobbing into his chest.

"She has noone now. Just another kid, left to the system. Juvia was there. Juvia knows what it's like. If only I would have-"

"Juvia, don't."

"But-"

"No, Juvia. Don't you dare blame yourself for this. None of this is your fault. You couldn't have known. It was an accident. Besides, if anything they're lucky you were there. At least the girl had someone to hold her, she wasn't alone."

"But she-"

"It won't be easy, but she'll be okay eventually. You can't blame yourself for this Juvia."

Juvia seemed to think over his words, before sighing. She still seemed conflicted but he could tell that some weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Gray pulled her closer to him and kissed her head.

"If you want we can go check up on her together? And make sure shes treated well at the orphanage until she finds a good family."

"You'd really do that?"

"Of course, if you allow me to come with you."

"Juvia would love that."

"Alright, then it's settled. Now try to rest."

"You promise to still be here when Juvia wakes up?"

"Not even Erza herself can make me leave your side tonight."

She giggled and Gray couldn't help the small smile. It would take some time for her to deal with this and recover. But she would be fine because this is his Juvia, the strongest girl out there. And he'd stay with her until she does.

"Graysama?"

"Yes?"

"Did you remove the ladder you climbed up with?"

There was a moment of silence before realization hit him. Gray sprinted to the window, ready to break the ice, only to find that he was too late because standing next to it was no other than Erza herself.

"GRAY FULLBUSTER, YOU BETTER GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!"

#gruvia #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #gray x juvia #fairy tail #back to writing

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jaehyunspeachparty · 3 years

Text

1.13

warnings: This story contains content that could be problematic for one or the other. Among other things, the story may contain content about sex, rape, late pregnancy, relationship with a large age difference, and others. Just because it's in the warnings doesn't mean these topics will appear, but they will definitely be covered in the story. The content of the story is fixed and doesn’t change. If you don't feel comfortable with these topics, then it's okay if you don't read the story. I just write down my ideas here and I just enjoy writing about life. The fact that some things in life are not rational or weird for some people is also part of it.

Miga was still with SM because her friend Dae will have her debut soon and she wanted to comfort her. Dae had also been with SM for a long time, namely since she was 13 years old. Dae and Miga grew up together in the company and they have been friends since then. Dae had her first recording that day and she was so nervous that Miga came over to support her. The producer was also relatively young, but everyone was enthusiastic about him. His name is Para and he was 23 years old. "So, can we start?" Para asked when he came into the studio, but when he saw Miga he turned interested to her. "Hey, didn't I notice something? I thought you were an actress." He winked and Miga waved it off. "Yeah, singing is not my thing. I'll go." She hugged Dae tightly and whispered encouraging words in her ear. Then she said goodbye and left the studio. It was Saturday and therefore a lot more less people in the company. The corridor was empty and Miga felt more and more uncomfortable. Her heart started beating faster for no reason. Suddenly a man came out of the room and was walking along the corridor. Miga could barely breathe, she became more and more panicked and tried to walk quickly to the exit. But with her high heels she was slower. The next moment the door next to her went up and surprisingly Hyunjin stand in front of her. He grinned happily, because due to his tight schedule, the two hardly had time to see each other. "Hey Miga!" He walks up to her and wanted to talk to her, but Miga was no longer with herself. She fell completely into a panic attack. With big eyes she looked at Hyunjin for a second, but she didn't see him anymore, she saw in him the men she wanted to rape her a week ago. She could no longer see reality and she had the feeling that she could no longer breathe. She ran off without saying anything. And she can't quite remember, but at one point she sat in her car and locked the doors. She put her hands on the steering wheel and rested her head on it. She breathes in and out deeply. Her trauma is still deep inside her. Her panic attack was only slowly subsiding. Her hands were shaking and she was still dizzy. She quickly took her bottle and took a quick gulp of water. She leaned back and took a deep breath as her pulse settled again. Was that a trauma that she couldn't push away so easily?

Sunoh was home all day doing what he looked forward to all day. At the weekend he facetimed with Chichi for a long time, who has been in Japan for a week now. "I'm pretty nervous. A week of training is very little." Chichi made her first show that evening. It's a charity performance and the new ballet dancers introduce themselves. "I'm sure you can do it." Sunoh looked dreamily into the screen and he wished he could travel to her immediately. He wants to be there for her, support her and maybe other things. Sunoh kept wandering in thoughts ... but certain thoughts ... adult thoughts ... and he was ashamed of them. Chichi was so cute, beautiful and innocent and he had these dirty thoughts. "What are you doing today?", Chichi asked and looked at Sunoh with her dark eyes. "Johnny and Irene have invited us all. There is a party and I think there will be an announcement." "Ahhh yes, Dad told me about it. I wish I could be there." She sighed and looked a little sad. "You won't miss a thing. It's going to be super boring." Sunoh hadn't felt like anything since Chichi was gone. He's just waiting until he can finally talk to Chichi on the phone. "But I'd rather be with you," Sunoh admitted and his cheeks turned red. Chichi's face also turned red and her heart began to beat faster. "I wish I could be with you too," she admitted and Sunoh's heart softened. He would like to fly to her on the next plane, hug her, kiss her and ... Sunoh pressed his lips together. His hormones were driving him crazy and his thoughts were only more about one thing. Sometimes he didn't even know what was wrong with him. "I really want to see you during the Christmas break. But Mum wanted us to visit Audrey in Switzerland and I should come with them. But I'm still trying to persuade her." "No, visit your aunt and your cousins. You see them less than me." Chichi didn't want him to neglect his family because of her. "But I don't want to go to Switzerland, I want to see you. Only Mum doesn't want me to be alone in another country." He sighed and he thought he was old enough to travel alone, but you didn't want to leave him alone. "It's okay, I'll be back soon." Chichi didn't want him to get in trouble just because of her. "Chichi! You have to go," someone in the background suddenly calls the small girl. She had to end the phone call with Sunoh for the fitting. The two of them always had a hard time parting, but there was no other way because Chichi had to go and Sunoh was alone in his room again.

You put on earrings and get ready for the party for Johnny when Jaehyun walked into your bathroom. He's got a little bag that he puts down and then hugs you from behind and kisses you. "Hey, how was the photo shoot?" You ask him. He had to get up early and still had to work a little. "Fine, but I've been excited all day." He smiled and gently stroked your hip. "Me too. Is it in there?" You point to the bag and he nodded. You then grab something and look at him. "I'm over 2 weeks, which is actually a good sign." You were holding a pregnancy test and your heart was pounding with excitement. You hadn't had your period for over 2 weeks and you both now had hope of conceiving. You didn't want to take the test until tomorrow, but you both wanted a child so badly that you couldn't wait. "I'm positive." Jaehyun was excited too, sometimes you thought he wanted a child more than you. "Okay I'll do it." You unpack the test and then sit on the toilet. Jaehyun sat down on the bathroom floor across from you. "You look beautiful," he said with a grin. "Jaehyun, I'm peeing right now", you had to laugh but concentrate on the test. You put the cap on it and get dressed again. You wash your hands and sit down with Jaehyun. He put his arms around you and both of you look excitedly at the test. "Imagine we have another girl after all the boys. Then we started with a girl and we finish with a girl." Jaehyun hugged you tight and put his chin on your shoulder. "Don't be too hasty. Let's wait and see the result." You smile and stare at the test. "I know, I know. But I would still like a girl." Jaehyun kissed you and you have to smile. It reminded you of the time you tried to have a second child. You didn't do a pregnancy test with the twins, so it was more of a surprise. "See the result will be displayed immediately." You pick up the test and you could feel Jaehyun's pulse. You couldn't wait to see the result and you almost ran out of breath. It only takes a few seconds and then there is the result

... not pregnant...

You stare at the test, you couldn't believe it. You were so sure of yourself. You really thought you were pregnant. Jaehyun saw that you stopped moving. He took the test out of your hands and set it aside. He hugged you tight and stroked you. But you were so disappointed you just couldn't believe it. "I am sorry." You suddenly start crying because you couldn't hide your disappointment. You feel like a failure, like you couldn't do what your body was made to do. "Don't blame yourself. We'll manage it." Jaehyun pressed your head to his chest and you couldn't stop sobbing. "I'm too old, we should have started having a baby earlier." "Y/N, it could be up to me too. We don't know. Don't blame yourself. We have other options." Jaehyun tries to cheer you up, but you were so sad. You cry and cry and cry. Jaehyun had you tight in her arms and you are sitting there on the bathroom floor trying to process it all. But then suddenly the door opened and Geon came in. "Mum, when are we going? .... OH!" He saw his parents sitting on the floor and his mother crying. "Is everything okay?" He asked and didn't know what to say. "Is Miga there yet?" Jaehyun asked and Geon nodded. "Okay, we'll be down in a moment. Give us a few more minutes." Jaehyun looked at his son, who nodded.

Geon went back down to the entrance where Sunoh, Miga and Kiwoo were already standing. "And where are they?" Asked Miga and looked curiously at her little brother. "Mum is crying ..." Geon said, very shocked. "She's crying?" Asked Sunoh in surprise. "Why is Mum crying?" Asked Kiwoo, surprised and also worried. "I don't know, but Dad doesn't look too good either," Geon said, shrugging his shoulders. "Shit ..." Miga looked sadly into the room. "What? Do you know why they're sad?" Asked Sunoh. "I think mum isn't pregnant again. I heard them talking about it the other day, that they think it worked now." Miga sighed and leaned against the wall. The siblings became quiet and didn't know what to say. "It's best if you all drive with me in the car and we'll give Mum and Dad a little time together. Or what do you think?" Suggested Miga, and everyone agreed. At that moment you came down with Jaehyun. Your eyes were still all red, but you are trying to collect yourself. "Shall we go?" Asked Jaehyun and looked at his children. "Yes, Sunoh, Kiwoo and Geon are going with me. Is that okay?" Miga smiled gently and you nod. "Okay, go then." Miga pushed her brothers into the garage and they got into the car.

"Can you do it?" Jaehyun asked as he drove off and he put a hand on your thigh. "Yeah, distraction is good. How are you?" You look at your husband who is focused on the street. "I'm really sad, but I'm looking forward to a nice party with good friends." Jaehyun smiled gently and you were calmer by now. "Sunoh thinks that Johnny is going to announce something. Do you think he has something to announce?" You ask and look curiously at Jaehyun, but he shrugged his shoulders. "I really don't know. Johnny is so random sometimes." "Maybe he married Irene. I think she wanted that." "That may well be, as I said, Johnny is acting sometimes randomly." The journey doesn't take long and they were there. Miga and the boys arrived at the same time and the whole family got out. "Mum, you look good," Miga said honestly and put her arm around you. You knew she wanted to cheer you up and you were grateful to her for that. "Thanks my darling, you look gorgeous too." You kiss her hair and go to the house with her. Kiwoo rang the bell and Johnny immediately opened the door. "Hey, welcome. Come in." He took a step aside so that everyone could come in.

In the meantime, Sunoh goes to Jaina and sits down next to her. "Hey," she said, turning to him. "Hey," he sighed and leaned back. "Are you okay?", She asked surprised, but she already had a guess what could be. "Yes everything fine." Sunoh wasn't ready to tell others that he was into Chichi. "And with you?", He then asked her, but Jaina shrugged her shoulders. "Let's talk about it later after Dad makes his announcement." She sighed and Sunoh nodded. He knew that Johnny had a reason to invite everyone. Then Jaina suddenly got up and went to the bar. She poured a shot of rum into her Coke, but Miga saw it. "Jaina, what are you doing?" She admonished her. "I only drink cola." She grinned and took a long swig. "You are 14 years old, you are still too young for alcohol. Throw that away now or I have to tell Johnny." Miga was worried about Jaina, she had already met her drunk and she didn't want anything bad to happen to her. Jaina finish her drink in one gulp and grinned. "Nobody cares anyway." She shrugged her shoulders. "But everyone is interested and I am interested," Miga tried to be there for her, but Jaina was too prepubertal. "Oh, really? Or do you want to act like a big sister to me too? You just want to show everyone your perfect life. You never make mistakes." Jaina rolled her eyes and sighed. "That's not true. I make mistakes ...", but Jaina turned away and didn't want to listen to her any more. She didn't understand what Jaina had against her lately, but the girl had something. "All right?" She suddenly heard and when she turned around she saw her mistake. Jaemin. "Yes and with you?" She asks with a smile. "Yes, but I wanted to ask you ..." But before Jaemin could continue speaking, Johnny's voice grew loud. "Can I just ask for your attention?" He stepped into the middle of the room and took Irene by the hand. With a big grin she followed him until they were in the middle of the room. In the meantime everyone was there, almost all NCT members with their families. The house was full, but everyone was staring at Johnny intently. "I want to keep it short, but the reason I invited you all today is ..." He paused and put his arm around Irene. He looked deeply into her eyes and smiled. "We are engaged. We are going to get married," shouted Johnny and Irene held up her finger with the engagement ring. Suddenly it got loud in the room, many walked up to them and Sunoh looked at Jaina in suprise. She stood and stared at her father and stepmother. Tears stood in her eyes and at some point she couldn't look at it anymore and ran out of the house. Sunoh followed her and held her tight. "Jaina ... wait. What's wrong?", Sunoh asked and looked at her. "Dad still loves Mum ..." She looked sadly at the floor and began to sob softly. Jaina was suddenly so small, so vulnerable. "What?" Sunoh was surprised and didn't quite understand anything. "Dad was at Mum's a few days ago and told about the engagement. I overheard...I shouldn't have, but Dad said he still loves Mum. But Mum doesn't want to take him back." Jaina started crying because all she wanted was her parents to get back together. She had no problem with Irene, but she wanted her parents to be a couple again. "Jaina ... I'm sorry." He took Jaina in his arms and that was all she needed.

Miga fled meanwhile from all the chaos. It was all too much for her. She had other problems. Hyunjin wrote to her and asked what was going on. She doesn't know what to say. Her heart was racing and everything indicated she was going to have a panic attack. She quickly runs into the bathroom and leans on the sink. She took a deep breath when she suddenly hears a familiar voice. "All good?" Jaemin stood by the door and looked at her worriedly. Miga was shocked briefly, but she smiled when she saw him. "Yes everything fine." Of course she lied, but she still didn't want Jaemin to tell her parents about the incident. "I feel like you are lying to me." He stood in front of her and looked down at her. Miga looked up at him and she felt all the tension. She knew that he wanted it, that he felt more for her. Her dark and large eyes were fixed on his. Jaemin was completely captivated by her. He hardly realized what was happening and what he was doing. But now it was Miga who acted. She longed for his attention. So she stood on her tiptoe and kissed Jaemin briefly and gently. Then she stopped and waited for his reaction. Jaemin pressed his lips together and tried to collect himself, but everything in him contracted. He suppressed his longing for Miga for so long and her lips suddenly felt like the release. And now he was getting greedy. He wanted her closer, deeper, more intense. He suddenly grabbed her, pressed his body against her, and kissed her. This kiss was no longer gentle, it was passionate. Miga felt his groin press against his hip and he then lifted her up to put her on the counter next to the sink. Their lips were tight together. Miga moaned softly and that made him even wilder. He put his hands on her thighs and ran his hands up and under her dress. Miga felt how everything in her vibrated, how wet she was. She had longed for such a passion and Jaemin was the perfect lover. And Miga meanwhile pressed her middle closer to him and put her hands tightly around his neck. And the next moment the door opened. However, the two did not check it in time. And they were still in the process of making out. Then they only heard a startled sigh and when the two looked over, they saw Renjun. He looked at the two in shock and immediately ran away. "Shit", Jaemin swore and let go of Miga to run after him. He had to make sure he wasn't telling anyone. Renjun noticed that Jaemin was following him and he went into the garden to talk to him. "JAEMIN! FUCK! I knew it was Miga! What did I advise you 2 months ago?" Renjun couldn't believe it. "You don't get it ..." Jaemin tries to explain himself. "What do I not understand, that I caught you making out with Jaehyun's 19 year old daughter? THIS IS CRAZY!!!! What if I hadn't got in the way? What would have happened then?" "Nothing would have happened," Jaemin said, but Renjun shook his head. "Your hands! They were under her dress. Fuck Jaemin! I never thought you were stupid, but that's really stupid!" Renjun was so upset and didn't know what to think. "I can't do anything ... she's just ..." "She is Jaehyun's daughter! AND SHE IS 19!!!!", Renjun interrupted him and Jaemin just stared at him. "Please don't tell Jaehyun," pleaded Jaemin. "Are you going to keep your fingers off of her?" Renjun then asked and Jaemin had to hesitate. "She's grown up, she knows what she's doing," said Jaemin then. "She can't judge. Do I have to tell you everything again? She always looks up to you. She is still a child in this regard." "Miga is more mature than you think." "It doesn't matter because she is Jaehyun's daughter!" Renjun shook his head and saw Miga watching them from the house. "I don't know what to do," Jaemin was really desperate. He was so at odds himself. Renjun saw the despair in his friend and became calmer. "Is it love or lust?", Renjun then asked him and Jaemin looked at him in surprise. "What?" "Are you sure you love her? Or is it just the desire for something forbidden." Renjun crossed his arms and Jaemin couldn't tell. "Find that out, and as long as you think about it I won't say anything to Jaehyun," Renjun said and Jaemin nodded. "Thanks ..." Jaemin said quietly and Renjun just nodded. "Well, let's go in."

Jaemin now sat later far away from Miga. He couldn't look at her because everything was still tightening inside him. He still smelled her scent, still felt her bare skin on his hands. He didn't know how long he could stay here. "Hey Jeno, I have a question." Jeno turned to him and smiled. "Yeah sure." "How can I tell the difference between love and lust?" Jaemin then asked. "Why do you ask that? Is there a girl?" Jeno winked and had to laugh, but Jaemin was nervous. "I've told you about her before." "Ah, the 19 year old?" Jaemin nodded. "Do you think you love her or are you wondering if it wouldn't be exciting to sleep with a 19 year old?" Jeno had to laugh. "Yes. No. I mean ..." Jaemin struggled for words, it was hard to explain it all. "It's okay. When was the last time you had sex?" Jeno asked soberly. "Does mastrubation count too?" "No. I mean with a woman." Jeno looked seriously at his friend and Jaemin thought about it. "Hmm I don't know. Maybe before last spring?" After breaking up with his ex-girlfriend, he wanted nothing to do with women for a while. "Last spring? It's December!" Jeno was shocked and looked at him in surprise. "Okay okay. I see the problem. Maybe you just need to sleep with someone who isn't the mysterious 19 year old girl." "What do you mean by that?" Jaemin asked. "Well, that way you can tell whether it's just lust or love. Maybe you just need real sex again. Fuck, Jaemin, my wife has not been able to sleep with me for two months because she gave birth to us and already going crazy. " Jeno laughed and looks at Jaemin. "So you mean I should go out and sleep with some random woman?" Jaemin wasn't sure. "Yes! Maybe you just have to take a little pressure off. Let off some steam." Jeno grinned and Jaemin nodded. Maybe he was right, maybe other women would distract him from all the thoughts he had about Miga and he clearly had too many of them ...

providentia masterlist

daddy jaehyun masterlist

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hungryflowers · 3 years

Text

Sensing Lamentation

Title: Sensing Lamentation

Rating: General Audience

Fandom/Continuity: Balan Wonderworld

Character Relationship(s): Leo Craig/Balan

Character(s): Leo, Balan, Past Character (Unnamed), Lance (Only Mentioned)

A/N: I’ve been in a funk for quite awhile, so I decided to do this to hopefully make me feel better. 2020 was a rough year and these last few days have torn out my soul. I want to write this as a small means of healing myself. Also, I’m a slight out of practice with my writing craft, so if any errors, I apologize.

Other: This isn’t a ship! Regardless of what the ‘Character Relationship’ part says, keep in mind that Leo is fifteen years old and Balan is potentially eldritch aged. He’s seen all sides of humanity, so he gets it. He’s not attracted to the boy, nor will I write him to be. Just putting that out there before y’all get to thinking that he a ‘cradle robber’ who lures in heartbroken kids.

He was more than content with sitting in the whist, luminescent room. Parchment on one end, tar-like ink on the other, the Maestro had made a day for himself to just... create. A tune swirled in his mind, the musings of the melody playing on repeat as he etched time out of his day to put it to paper. The endeavor was not a failed one, yet it hardly yielded the desired results. Feather to temple, Balan stretched his elongated back. Sunlight had eluded him in the short time he sat. Eyes glanced for the nearest time telling device in the room; eight forty-five. He had been at the same table, staying finicky over the same paper for the same tune for nearly four hours. Not a new reaction, yet he was normally more productive. Sighing, he adjusted his wide-brimmed top hat as he moved around to restock, stock, or keep tabs on anything necessary for anymore acts.

The little tims peeped and scuttle along, following the maestro as if he’d been a pied piper. Playful eyes shimmered with glee as he picked up the few that straddled his lanky legs. Placing them on a crate, he kept at his inventory. They still peeped and chimed, more frequent and annoyed.

“None of that...” A quiescent quip from the maestro had them calmed. It seemed that have to find another opportunity to have Balan’s attention.

In the after math of busying himself with caring for little things, the maestro had failed to notice, or hear the subtle steps of a child passing by. The shock of hearing another breathing individual was enough to make him pause. Standing to his full height Balan went around looking for the soul whom had trespassed without him acknowledgement. He was quite forthcoming with introductions or having someone speaking to him before departing. It was in good manner to appear respectful to those around you.

The steps he had neglected to hear before ventured up the stairs to the next floor. Which was quite odd, as only guests that Balan himself invited, or staff that convened there, were allowed upstairs. He had to rectify this immediately. Snooping was not tolerated under the maestro’s gaze. He kept his eyes on a sleeping chamber that was lit behind the sturdy mahogany door as he crept up the spiral staircase. On a normal day, he’d just float up and push open the door, however he still had enough respect to announce his presence before coming in.

Standing in front of the door, his hand went to jiggle the handle, only to stop at the softest sounds of what he knew as sorrow. Eyes widened, his hand came off the knob as if he had been burned by it. There was a little one... softly sobbing in the chambers. He fought against an unusual impulse to shove himself inside, yet the longer he listened, the harder it became to ignore. He reminded himself to adhere to the rules and guidelines he had made for himself and Lance: do not interfere unless the justification is absolute. For some unspoken reason he felt the need to disregard his rule this only time. And with that impactful instinct hammering into him, he gave in.

He knocked loud enough for the little soul to hear yet did not speak, waiting for someone to answer or reply. There was one solid minute without noise, the little one seeming to buck up after hearing the knock. When Balan knocked again, he earned a response, “Who is it? What do you want?”

Balan recognized the young man’s voice instantly. A shadow of sadness glazing his stare as he leant on the door a bit. What was making Leo so upset? Who could have caused such an unrest in the boy’s spirit?

“Leo... It’s Balan. May I come in?” He slid to his knees, in case the boy would open for him. After a moment, the heavy door slowly crept open, for Balan to view the young visitor’s face; that now appears wet from tears.

Instead of asking too many questions, Balan just slid a bit closer to Leo, arms stretched enough to reach but not touch. A simple gesture to show he’d be there for him.

Leo glanced at the gesture, measuring it to see what he’d want to do. His shoeless feet pawed the hardwood as he contemplated what he would do. He thought it would be best for the maestro to disregard the idea of comforting him. He’d remain a soldier fighting a battle on his own. Yet at the same time, he didn’t want that. And that juggle of care and carelessness caused more tears to well in his eyes before he opened his mouth. He barely caught a sniffle before he felt his feet leaving the floor. Blue eyes scanned his surroundings before he gauged that he was in Balan’s arms, embrace pulling him softly to his chest. Agony gripped the young boy as he sobbed into the maestro’s shoulder, tiny hands gripping him as if he’d disappear.

Balan remained on his knees as the boy broke down, sun-yellow eyes closing as he allowed him the ability to let go. To let it hurt... if only for a while. The boy continued to sob as he motioned to stand, going into the chambers as his hands patted Leo’s back, slowing going into his hair to bring him closer. That hymn, the song Balan could not put to sheet, or find the right words to, came back. Only this time, the humming bled into words,

“When there is light, a shadow appears the cause and effect, when life interferes the same rule applies to goodness and grief; for in our great sorrow, we learn what joy means,”

His little visitor opened his eyes in an attempt to look at Balan as he sang aloud. While he could see his smile, the wide brim of his hat obscured the rest of his face. He wanted to look at the maestro fully as he hummed the rest of the tune, rocking and hugging him as a mother would do for a babe.

The maestro himself continued to hum the melody while pressing in as close as allowed. Softening his grip, he brought the little one to look at him. And became overwhelmed with the glowing vision of the boy staring back at him. Trusting him in this way. Words were not required to be exchanged while the maestro strode slowly to the large bed to lay him down. While Leo calmed down, Balan brought a chair over to sit near the bed’s end.

“Leo, what troubles you little one? You can tell me. This place,” he moved his arms around the chambers, “is completely safe. Nothing leaves here. Your sacred words are for my ears only. Words that I will keep close to me. I promise.” He placed his immense hand on Leo’s shoulder as the boy relaxed into it. Taking a breath, he soothed over his raked nerves while he thought of the right thing to say. His chest appeared tighter than normal, fingers lacing together and fidgeting. In spite of his bravery to show his emotions to Balan, he still felt like a wounded, stubborn soldier; unable to admit that his wounds were draining him. His eyes strewn about the room instead of interacting with the tall, lanky figure.

Balan did nothing to prompt the boy to say anything quickly. No means to force him to confess to what was ailing him in this way without volition. So he waited. Patient and understanding. He’d talk when it is time. He watched him take a few short breaths then they locked eyes once more. The fragility was nearly enough to break the maestro’s heart.

“I...I was just really upset about someone I used to know. We were real close. I loved them... they were like a sibling to me,” Leo sniffled as he pulled his hair back, “But then I said something wrong... and so did they. And then we never saw each other again. I didn’t... mean what I said, but I-I was just so-”

“Angry,” Balan stated, “You lashed out at them and now you’re feeling extreme guilt for it.”

“I guess I’m madder at myself because I left without giving them a reason, but what could I say?,” The young teen looked at the bed sheets as he rubbed his nose, “Have you ever been in my situation before?” Leo inquired after a second of thought.

Balan blinked rapidly, the small smile he kept fading in surprise. It was an emboldened inquiry. Aureate eyes slid closed, reminiscing to the time he and Lance fell out. Harshly. Only, it was not Balan who attacked with scathing words. Nothing more could be said between as the maestro departed from the other with bolide of tears streaking the cosmos in his wake. Lance never created the courage to apologize for those words, no matter how many times Balan imagined that he would. It came as an acceptance of bad pride on both ends that kept the healing away from the two of them. Even if Balan was no longer in need of the healing. The words were said, there could be nothing in Wonderworld or in the actual world to change that.

“Yes... but it was at a time I no longer remember.” Balan did not meet Leo’s eyes this time. His words were satisfying enough for Leo but he knew there was more to the story.

“All I want to do is say sorry. But it’s too late.” The young boy put his head in his hands, a miserable whimper coming forth.

“Maybe... maybe not. Leo, I may not be able to give the proper answer about how you can ask for your friend’s forgiveness. However, I do know how you can forgive yourself. And that is to accept that friends can genuinely drift apart. Something in the relationship fissures and causes both of you to turn away from each other. You can accept the blame, Leo. That’s okay. But you shouldn’t be hurting yourself with that blame.” Balan’s gloved hand pressed to Leo’s cheek, making the teen look at him. The way that Balan smiled made Leo’s lip curl in sweet smile as well.

“Thank you... so much. I really needed to hear that. I just felt like it was all my fault.” He pressed himself into the gloved hand, warmth radiating off the limb.

“You’re most welcome, little one. And know that I’m here for you. With any insecurity, I’ll help you in the best way I can,” His head pressed to Leo’s, well not quite. The large hat obscuring leant on the boy’s forehead, which felt annoying for the point he was attempting to make. He half sighed and laughed before standing out of the chair.

“One thing. Remember when I said that sacred secrets do not leave this space?”Balan’s tone hinted at something yet Leo couldn’t find what about it, so instead he stiffly nodded, “Okay good. Because I have a very sacred secret to show you. Only you.” He cooed as his hands went to his hat, the article of fabric coming off his face and head with a slow tug. With a shake, jade colored dreads fell free, his gloved hands fluffing them as he pushed a threaded dread away from his forehead.

“There we go,” He stated mutely as he put the hat on a vanity in the corner, moving to sit back down in front of the awestruck child, “Yes I know. I’m so funny looking.” He grinned cheerily before setting his hands atop the bedsheets.

“No you’re not...”, Leo scooted closer to Balan, the maestro still grinning happily as he did, “You look so beautiful.” The teen breathed whimsically, as if entranced by the sight of him.

The grin was pulled off Balan’s face so quick, Leo felt as if he had offended him. Golden eyes flickering like candlelight in the lucent, yet dark room. For a fraction of a second, the world spun. He could see stars on the brim of his vision. After a great upheaval of air from his lungs, Balan came back.

“Beautiful...? No one’s ever called me that before.” He chuckled sheepishly as he smoothed over his dreads.

“But can I call you beautiful?” Leo became a bit shy, the poor boy looked as if he did something wrong.

“If that helps, then yes. You are more than welcome to call me ‘beautiful’, little one.” The maestro bowed in the chair gracefully. He smiled genuinely while he pulled little Leo in for a hug, the teen leaning into him as he pressed into his shoulder. As they parted, Balan found his moment to press his forehead against Leo’s. Their contact was electric, stunning but completely welcomed as Balan breathed him in softly. Leo reciprocated the gesture, his small hands wrapping around the maestro’s neck affectionately. Oceanic, hope-filled orbs blended with the sunset gold ones in perfection. They stayed like such for a while, neither coming up with any words to justify this moment between them had. When they had to pull apart, Balan was the one who leant forward, as if not wanting the contact to come to an end.

He gets up, still holding the teen, to lay him down on the large bed. Leo relaxes in the maestro’s embrace as he buries his face into his neck. Balan didn’t stop the sweet, light-hearted laugh that bubbled forth as he encompasses the boy, swaddling him in the warmth of his body. They exchange a final look before Leo yawns softly. His eyes, previously stricken with tears of grief, now sparkle with ebullience and peace.

The remainder of the night was of Balan holding the little one as if he were the only thing in the world, his world, to think of at that moment. Surrounded by a jubilant contentment, he lain himself bare in front of this particular visitor for the first time in ages. So long as it was with Leo, he’d do it again.

Over and over again.

#balan wonderworld #balan

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pixieungerstories · 4 years

Text

Captive - 9

Hi Readers - I hate to be like this, but if you love this story, please go here to subscribe. I’m not intentionally neglecting the free content, it’s just getting overlooked right now. My next book deadline in Nov15 (2020). Normally, it’s just me writing for me and you get the benefit from that. This time Podium Audiobooks has me under contract for second book in the Mistaken Universe.

Also - if you have the time - the occasional gentle reminder is appreciated. Today’s post is brought to you by @dizzy-poncho who sent me some love and made my brain realized I hadn’t posted in a while.

The sound of someone pounding on the door was less than an ideal way to be awoken. As was the kitten, who had up to that point had been curled up behind her knees, screeching and bolting. Elly glanced at her watch, she had managed maybe four hours of sleep. The person on the other side of the door pounded again. Groaning, Ellly got to her feet, stomped over to the shop door and wrenched it open.

“What?!”

The church ladies were clearly taken aback by her tone. They stared at her in stunned horror.

“The sign says we’re closed for the day.” Elly announced.

“I just need-” Posy started to say, but Elly interrupted.

“You need to come back tomorrow.”

Posy narrowed her eyes, “I could just as easily order my yarn off the internet instead, you know!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Elly replied sadly. “Good day then.” She then closed the door on the women’s shocked faces. She leaned against the door for a minute and groaned before rallying the strength to head upstairs. On her way she nearly tripped over the reappeared kitten.

“Jesus, cat! Learn some self preservation!” Elly scolded as she scooped up the tiny thing. The kitten clamored up her arm to her shoulder and settled in for the trek upstairs. Elly tried to remember where she had stored Mitten’s cat stuff. In all likelihood she probably gave it away when she figured her cat had been eaten...Well she’d need to take the kitten for vaccinations anyways. She could pick up whatever she needed then. First thing on the list, a bell collar.

Well, that could be second. The first thing she needed was a name. Elly wondered for a moment if George would want any say in that. The thought could wait. First she needed a nap, or possibly a whole lot of coffee. Likely both.

Ben was just staggering out of the spare room when Elly got back to her apartment. “Shit, boss, I am late getting started this morning.”

Elly sighed, “We are closed today. How are you feeling?”

Ben shrugged, then rubbed his bleary eyes, “Slightly hung over, possible still a little drunk, and baffled that you have a dragon living in your basement.” He looked at her face and frowned, “Did you sleep last night?”

Elly shook her head again, “Not really. I napped.”

Ben winced, “Was that my fault?”

Elly shook her head again, “I was up too late and started getting creeped out by the sounds of the house settling.” Ben really did look awful. “Right!” she announced, making him wince again. “Big glass of water, a couple of aspirin and back to bed.”

Bean groaned, “I would roll my eyes at you except that they feel like they might fall out of my head if I tried.”

Elly snickered under her breath and went to the kitchen for a glass.

“So tell me about George.”

She froze. This was awkward. “I think you should ask him about him. Carefully. I don’t want to offend the dragon in my basement and neither do you.” She filled the glass with water and handed it to him. As Ben drank the water she pulled the aspirin out of the spice drawer.

“Does he breath fire?” he asked, lightly, trying to make a joke.

Elly pursed her lips as she considered that. “More like belches fire, but he can adjust his body temperature to heat the building.”

“You are fucking kidding me!” His eyes went wide as Elly shook her head. “Holy shit.” It was said reverentially, whispered almost like a prayer. Ben took two steps to the left and sat heavily in one of the kitchen chairs.

Elly gave him a sympathetic look. “I am honestly unsure if this conversation would be better once you are sober. It could turn out to be worse.” She hesitated for a moment before adding, “Are you planning on quitting?”

“Why would I quit?” Ben asked with a frown.

Elly frowned right back at him. “Because there is a dragon in the basement. And if you tell anyone, they will just think you’re delusional.”

Ben considered this. “You won’t. Think I’m insane, I mean.”

“I’m not really the best judge of sane, Ben.” She sounded sad when she said it.

There was a long moment of tension before the kitten stropped up against Ben’s leg, causing him to curse and stand up fast enough to knock over his chair. It hit the ground with a clatter and the kitten bolted.

“Was that Muffin?” he mumbled, looking sheepish as he picked up the chair.

Elly frowned, “You mean Mittens? No. George brought it home last night.”

“Like a present? That’s sweet.” After a moment, Ben added “And a little weird. Where did George get a kitten?”

“He said someone killed its mom and littermates. He was vague on the details and I didn’t push. He would have told me if he wanted me to know.”

Ben shivered, “Yeah. I was picking up my spice delivery at the post office last week and overheard the Debbie from the pound saying it was less killing cats and more a plaque of cat mutilations.”

Elly went very still. When Ben finally looked up and met her eyes, she whispered, “Are we talking disemboweling here?”

Ben blinked and stared at her in horror before nodding. “How did you know that?”

Elly spun on her heels and fussed at the sink, giving it a wipe before putting the kettle on the hob. “George was unusually circumspect about what had happened. I couldn’t figure out why, he isn’t usually shy.”

Ben snorted, “I can see that about him.” He watched her face, it was easy to see the wheels turning, but he couldn’t figure out what she was thinking. “If someone is hunting cats, it might be safer to take … um. . . her? Or him? Whatever, take the kitten to a vet a couple of towns over. If you are keeping it, I mean.”

Elly gave him a puzzled look, “Of course I’m keeping it.”

Ben fought a smirk, “You sure? Have you named it yet?”

Elly considered this. “Nyx, goddess of night.”

Ben snicked, “Really? What if its a boy?”

Elly rolled her eyes, “Ben, I’m not going to enforce gender roles on a kitten.”

Ben just shook his head. “Fine, but when we go to the vet, you get to drive.”

----

The vet proclaimed Nyx to seem perfectly healthy and old enough for vaccination and FIV testing. They booked her in for a spay in two weeks. Next stop was the pet store.

Ben picked out an adjustable purple collar and neoprene cat harness. Elly gave him a look. “What? You can harness train cats it you get them young enough. I follow Suki Cat on instagram!”

Elly blinked, “Huh. I never would have picked you for a cat person.”

He smirked, “Stupid cat videos is what the internet is for.”

“Really? Because I suspect most people would say porn,” Elly teased, then was surprised when he blushed. She managed to fight the urge to comment on that, and while she was wrestling with her morals, Ben left to go look at cat carriers. Nyx meowed and tightened her tiny claws into Elly’s shoulder where she was sitting.

“I’m sorry!” she blurted out. “That was rude.”

Ben just waved her away. “More unexpected. I haven’t seen that side of you. You are very, um, professional.” He didn’t make it sound like a compliment. When he realized she was frowning slightly, Ben flashed her a smile. “You are a great boss, Elly.”

Elly coughed, “I’m not actually your boss, you know.”

Ben blushed again. That was new. “Any preference on cat food?”

Realizing he was trying to change the subject, Elly turned to face with wall of food. “Wet food for cats. I’ve never had one do well on kibble.”

“Did, um, your other cats sit on your shoulder like that?”

“Nope, this is a first, but she seems to like it up there.”

They watched each other awkwardly for a moment. Elly broke first. “Ben? Are you OK?”

Ben quickly turned his head to the right and scoped out the litter boxes. “Ina wasn’t that fun to work with,” he admitted. “Most of the time you are. Weird, but fun. I’m starting to understand where the weird comes from. And now I know that too. How do you go through your day knowing something like that?”

Elly sighed. “Ben - Look, tell me about yeast.”

“What?”

Elly rubbed her eyes, making Nyx meow and dig her little claws into Elly’s sweater. “You told me that yeast for bread used to come from beer, then the beer yeast changed and there was a shortage, right?”

Ben frowned, “Yeah, brewers switched from top fermenting to bottom fermenting and that process didn’t make the byproduct that bakers use. But what does that have to do with George?”

“How many people do you think know that?”

“Elly! It doesn’t matter! People knowing or not knowing about yeast doesn’t actually matter!”

Elly just raised an eyebrow, “How does knowing about George matter? Yeast is way more practical on a day to day basis.” Ben stared at her like she was insane. Elly kept talking, “Most people, including me, would consider baking bread or spinning wool or knitting a weird and slightly esoteric hobby. George is just one more weird bit of trivia that you now know.”

#Monster #dragon boyfriend #the captive #exophilia #Novel #monster boyfriend

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inadaydream99 · 5 years

Note

Hello honey, can I request a SKZ reaction to their crush that always give 'em a lot of attention starts suddenly paying more attention to other member. Thanks in advance ^^

Hey! Thanks for requesting 😁 I decided to make some of these fluffy and some a little more angst, just to have a little more variety in the reactions ☺️ I hope you enjoy this!

Chan

Chan had been acting off with you all day, looking sulky and generally annoyed about something. But you couldn’t figure out what it could possibly be.

You decide that you should just ask him, wanting to make him happy again because there was nothing you hated more than seeing him sad.

“Have I suddenly become boring to you?” Chan asks, his question substituting an actual answer to your question.

“Where would you get that idea from?” You respond with a light laugh. You found it really endearing that this was the reason for his sulking, a weight off your shoulders knowing his mood can be easily fixed.

“It’s just, you’ve been spending a lot more time with Changbin and not really been paying me any attention.” Chan finally confesses, his expression changing from a childish pout to one of genuine upset.

“Changbin asked me to help him with a surprise he had planned for Felix, how could I not agree to help. Anyway, you should know you’re my favourite person ever, I think I’ve made that very clear the whole time we’ve been friends.” You explain, placing your hand comfortingly on Chans shoulder. A smile finds its way back onto his face, his posture perking up at the realisation that he has nothing to worry about.

“Don’t get so jealous and moody with me next time you feel this way.” You tease which earns you a slap on the arm in responce in attempt for chan to hide his blush, only making you laugh louder.

“Yeah alright, so what was Changbin’s surprise?” Chan asks, intrigued by his friends secrets as he takes your hand in his.

Woojin

“I will not settle for anything less than your undivided attention.” Woojin flatly states, his deadpan expression alerting you of his jealously.

Woojin didn’t want to admit his jealousy of you spending a lot of time with the other members, but he was. After all, he had been harbouring a little crush on you for a while and so he wanted to be around you as much as he could.

“But I-”

“No but’s, you’ve been spending too much time studying with Seungmin. I want some time with you.” Woojin cuts you off, sensing your weak excuses on the tip of your tongue. You sigh in defeat knowing too well that he always gets his own way.

“Fine. But after this I really do need to study.” You compromise as you fall back onto the sofa in the space next to Woojin.

“Of course.” Woojin smiles widely as he pulls you into his arms. You snuggle into his side, enjoying the warm cuddle as a deep sigh of content escapes your lips.

Minho

You had always found Minho a complicated person. You never knew where you stood with him, but it’s one of your favourite things about your friendship. That’s why you always spend time together. You admired his harsh and truthful personality.

Over the time of your friendship, Minho began to develop feelings for you. He didn’t want to but the more you spent time together, the deeper his feelings got.

“Ignore me, I dare you.” Minho narrows his eyes as he harshly spits his words at you. You look up at him from your book with wide eyes, shock evident in your expression from his sudden outburst.

“I’m not ignoring you Minho. I’m reading.” You state, lifting your book a little to draw attention to it.

“That’s not what I mean. I was referring to you not paying me any attention. You’ve been constantly hanging out with Jisung.” Minho rolls his eyes prompting you to close your book and turn your full attention to him.

“I mean, why would you choose him over me? He’s annoying.” Minho continues, his defensive body language causing you to smirk.

“Are you jealous?” You tease, raising a brow in amusement.

“Absolutely not.” He scoffs in responce, his arms folded as he looks away.

“Uhuh sure, so you don’t want to go for dinner tonight then?” You continue to tease knowing full well that Minho definitely would want to.

“No.” Minho bluntly responds, still refusing to look at you.

“Ok then, I’ll just ask Jisung.” You shrug, playing off that you are unaffected.

“No! I mean, no. I’ll go with you.” Minho finally cracks as he turns to face you again, this time with a softer expression and a slight pink tint to his cheeks. You just smugly smile up at him, both of you knowing that you got the better of him this time.

Changbin

“Well, that really hurts.” Changbin feigns offence as he enters the kitchen to see you laughing. Jeongin has been telling you an embarrassing story about Changbin which left you struggling to breath from finding it completely hilarious.

“I’m sorry but it’s just too funny.” You say through laughter, wiping your tears away.

“Thanks Jeongin. You know that I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of (Y/N).” Changbin scolds the younger boy, annoyed by his cheeky antics.

“I’m sorry, it’s just (Y/N) asked.” Jeongin becomes reserved before leaving the room apologetically.

“Don’t look so mad, something similar happened to me.” You try to console your friend.

“That’s not why I’m mad anymore. I’m more annoyed that you’ve been going to the other guys to hang out rather than me.” Changbin states, his tone harsh as he moves towards you.

“Oh, I didn’t realise. You should have said.” You respond quietly, feeling timid from the guilt of neglecting Changbin.

Hyunjin

“Ah! My knee!” Hyunjin dramatically makes a scene, flailing his arms as he falls to the floor.

The reason for his random behaviour? He was attention seeking because you haven’t been paying him as much attention recently and it was making him jealous.

You watch him in amusement for a moment, chuckling at his very obvious attempt to get your attention as he continues to make a meal out of pretending to get hurt.

“Hyunjin are you ok!” You play along, rushing over and kneeling at his side as he lays on the floor holding his knee. An exaggerated whine echo’s the room in responce.

“What can I do to make it better?” You question and you try to refrain from laughing at his over the top expressions.

“Well, I think the only way to make things better is for a lot of cuddling and maybe watching a few movies.” Hyunjin frantically nods his head as he reveals his true reasons from his antics.

“Ok, only because it will make you feel better.” You smile down at him, petting his head as he smiles up at you.

“This is nice, we should do this more often.” Hyunjin whispers to you after the first movie comes to an end. You look up at him and nod your head in agreement before moving back to place you head on his chest, his arms wrapped around you securely as you cuddle together.

Jisung

When Jisung is jealous he whines. He doesn’t want you giving anyone else more attention than you give him because he reveales in getting a reaction.

“Hey, I’m standing right here!” He waves his arms about while he complains. He wanted your attention but he entered the room to see you engrossed in conversation with Woojin, again.

“Yeah, we know.” Woojin answers with a roll of his eyes. You laugh as Jisung stomps over to where you are sat and immediately envelops you in a tight hug.

“Ouch, I cant breathe.” You whine as you struggle out of his hold, only to be pulled in even tighter.

“I can’t watch this, I’m going.” Woojin sighs as he gets up and leaves the room.

“Finally, I have you all to myself.” Jisung triumphantly cheers, freeing you so you can turn to face him.

“Stop being a jealous attention seeker.” You chuckle as you take in his pleased face.

“That’s never gonna happen.” Jisung laughs along with you as you sigh deeply at his responce.

Felix

“I’m definitely not bothered.” Felix scoffs as you confront him about his harsh attitude towards everyone.

It all started when you began paying him less attention. It hurt Fleix’s feelings seeing the person he has developed a huge crush on suddenly start paying more attention to his friends.

“You definitely are. Why else would you sass Changbin like that when he only asked you to pass him a spoon.” You deadpan with your arms folded across your chest.

“Alright! Maybe I am, but it’s your fault. I feel like you aren’t interested in me anymore.” Felix becomes quieter with each word, the admittance of his feelings making him feel defeated.

“Just because I have other friends doesn’t mean I’m less interested in you. I didn’t even realise you felt this way.” You reply with glazed over eyes, feeling sad from not realising how you made Felix feel.

“I’m sorry.” You stutter out, trying to hold back the tears.

“It’s ok, I’m sorry too.” Felix pulls you into a hug, feeling equally as bad for upsetting you. He felt a lot better knowing you hadn’t been neglecting him intentionally and promised himself that next time he would tell you before making assumptions.

Seungmin

“It’s your loss.” Seungmin sasses as he turns away from you.

“What on earth Seungmin! Just because I was hanging out with Chan doesn’t mean you have the right to act all jealous.” You shout after him, following him down the hall as he walks away from you.

“But it does. It hurt to see you practically fall at his feet when I’ve been here the whole time!” Seungmin shouts at you.

The room falls deadly silent as you take in his words. You had no idea he felt that way about you and, although his confession was in a moment of anger, it made you feel warm inside, your face turning a deep shade of red.

“Incase you didn’t notice, I like you too dummy.” You laugh as Seungmin’s nervous expression turns into a wide smile.

Jeongin

“Give me attention or I’ll die!” Jeongin exclaims, holding onto your arm in an attempt to stop you from leaving.

“But I have plans. I need to go or I’ll be late.” You tell him for the 100th time as you struggle to get free.

“Well cancel them. I think it’s more important to spend time with me. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” Jeongin mumbles as you finally get your arm out of his grip.

Noticing his timid voice you glance up at him from looking at your arm. A pang of guilt shoots through you as you see his solumn expression and realise that he’s right, you haven’t spent time together for a while.

“Ok, I’ll cancel my arrangements and we can go out instead.” You sigh as you give in to Jeongin.

“Yay!” Jeongin cheers, his sad face instantly changing to an elated one at getting what he wanted.

#stray kids requests #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids x reader #kpop requests #kpop reactions #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader #kpop fluff #kpop angst

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taehyungsgrowl · 4 years

Text

’m sorry about this one, I love my boys I just want them to be okay 🥺 ~~~ Duncan couldn’t bring himself to make the call, Nate was clear as day, he doesn’t want to talk to either of them. Maybe it was better to tell her the truth, even if it would be hard to hear.

“So? Is he coming?”

Y/N asked out as she pulled out plates for their meal. Duncan walked in and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

“He..he said he doesn’t want to talk to us anymore”

he saw a her face fall at the news.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’ve got me. We’ve got each other..”

When Duncan reached home that night he decided to move Nate’s box from his car to the back of his closet. He decided he was better off taping it shut than going through the contents and stressing himself out. — It wasn’t easy for Y/N to hear that Nate wouldn’t talk to either of them, but Dunc was right, she had him. Having him over was something she hadn’t even realized how much she’d missed. Their plan to “take things slow” went out the window in just a few nights. It had been nearly a year since the last time they’d been

together,

so when things didn’t, uh,

come together

like before

she held no ill will.

“Was that okay? How are you feeling?”

Duncan asked from beside her. His nerves were starting to creep in, thoughts of what Nate had told him were bubbling up. Self doubt began overtaking his thoughts. What if he wasn’t as good as Nate? What if things were worse than they remembered? What if she hated it so much she broke up with him? Y/N could feel Duncan beginning to tense up. She grabbed his face to kiss him,

“I missed you, Dunc. How about a round two, if you’re ready?”

She said peppering his face until he was smiling as hard as her. While Duncan was out for his run the next morning, Y/N was just trying to find the clothes she’d left with him the year before. He’d said they were in a box somewhere, but when she found the one in his closet. Yes, it had her things in it, but it had Nate’s too. Why did Duncan have a box with all of their pictures-? He must have tried to talk to Nate after their fight.. Nate said he didn’t want to talk anymore, but this seemed like he didn’t want to even think about her. Why didn’t he have the guts to just say this to her face? After all of their time together you would think she at least deserved that.

—

Nate spend most of his time trying to block out and forget those last few months. Hookups were difficult, everything reminded him of

her,

he had to change things. No more old friends, it’s not like it was hard for him to find someone who wouldn’t have any expectations for him afterwards. He buzzed his hair off, why did they always try to push it back? Nate spent his nights alone for the most part, no matter how late someone was over, they weren’t sleeping there. Not anymore. Every day was harder than the last. Every day he saw Y/N and Duncan grow closer. She hadn’t tried to call him again, Shepherd had probably given her the box, told her what happened. Nate knew he could have called her, checked in for old times sake.. But she said their time together didn’t mean anything, so why should he give her any more of it. If Y/N was anything, she was persistent, it took nearly a month for her to stop calling and texting Duncan, and a few weeks after that to stop trying to talk to him in class. If she wanted to talk to him, she would have tried already, she wouldn’t have given up on him so easily. – Nate knew he’d been neglecting himself, forgetting to take his meds, slogging through the days

He just wanted it to stop, everything to stop, but it wouldn’t. It couldn’t. Rather than do something reckless, he dropped Maximus off at Y/N’s. Tied him to the porch with a bag of food, everything she’d need to take care of him, and a note. Even if she was still upset about what he’d told Duncan, he knew she’d take good care of his boy. Nate voluntarily admitted himself to the inpatient psych ward. ‘

It’s just for a couple of weeks, maximum,’

he told himself. Just long enough to get his head back on straight, let his meds kick in again, sort himself out..

–

ma’am you made me cry :(

i meant to have this out earlier this weekend but allergies have been kicking my ass so i’ve been sleeping sm vsjkvhsge yeehaw

–

As Y/N pulled into her driveway, she caught sight of Maximus on her porch. Confusion and worry immediately set in. She hurried out of the car and ran towards the dog.

I’m sorry. For everything. Please take care of Maxie. Spending a few weeks to get better at St. Anthony’s Hospital.

Y/N reread the note tied to Maxie over and over. She felt so guilty. Why didn’t Nate reach out to her is he was struggling?

Why didn’t you check on him? The voice in her head shamed her.

“Oh, Maxie.” she knelt down and hugged his dog tightly. Maxie whined and let her cry it out.

After what felt like a long time, she brought him and his thing in. She had to see him. Had to know if Nate was okay. He wouldn’t do this unless things had gotten pretty bad.

Maximus followed her around the house as she tried to make sense of everything.

Duncan arrived, carrying in food he’d picked up for them. Y/N sat at the table, head in her hands as she looked down at Nates note again. Maxie began to bark as soon as Duncan opened the door.

“What’s going on?” worry flashed Duncan’s mind seeing Maximus there. Was Nate there too? Had he been over to apologize to Y/N?

She called Maxie over and looked up at Duncan, tears in her eyes.

“Baby,” Duncan rushed over, “What’s wrong?” he knelt on the ground and took her hands in his.

“It’s Nate,” her voice trembled. Duncan looked down at Nate’s dog and back up at Y/N, still not understand. Was he .. was Nate okay?

Y/N couldn’t continue to explain without her voice giving out so she handed the note for Duncan to read.

“It’s my fault.” she wiped at her tired eyes with the back of her sleeves. Duncan could tell she’d been crying for a while by how red and irritated her eyes were.

“C’mere,” Duncan stood and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head.

Duncan didn’t know what to say. What could he say? He knew Y/N was beating herself up for this and he knew it wasn’t her fault. Part of him wanted to blame Nate for making her feel bad - but he knew that wasn’t right.

“He’s getting help because he thinks he needs it, Y/N. It’s not your fault.” he looked into her eyes, taking his thumb to wipe her tears.

“I know you still care about him. And you know he still trusts you.” Duncan looked down at Maxie at their feet. “Sit down, babe.” he kissed her head again and helped her sit.

“I should have known he wasn’t okay.” she looked down at the table idly tracing patterns into the wood.

Duncan wasn’t sure how to feel. Even now Nate was still holding the cards in their relationship.

“He didn’t wanna talk to us, babe.” Duncan sighed. “Look, why don’t we have dinner and try to relax a little and tomorrow morning we can see what we can find out.” he glanced at his watch, “Besides, it’s late now and you won’t get any answers tonight.”

That night, Y/N asked Duncan to stay at her place. Far too sad to be alone. He held her close that night with Maxie resting on her other side. She dozed off to sleep, softly petting his fur.

Nate looked out the narrow window of his temporary room. He instinctively tried to run his hands through his hair, but when he was met with his buzzed head, he let out a deep sigh.

He just wanted to feel like himself again.

He got ready for bed, taking his medication, brushing his teeth, changing into a pair of fresh sweats. He laid in his too small bed, staring up at the ceiling.

He’d put everyone’s feelings before his own for so long; he need help focusing on himself.

Nate’s mind started to wander when that started? Was it when he resigned any potential he could have with Y/N by making Duncan tell her how he felt? Was it before that when he settled to be Y/N’s friend when he wanted more?

Maybe neither of that - maybe it was a slow progression that led to it. Thinking about it now didn’t help. He tossed and turned most of the night.

He missed his bed. Missed Maxie.

He felt his stomach drop realizing it was only the first night.

Nate closed his eyes and tried to think of happy memories, but all the ones that came to mind involved Y/N.

He wanted to be able to be happy on his own.

#duncan x dumb!reader #dumb!reader #duncan x dumb!reader x nate #nate #duncan shepherd #submission

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Gifted

Title: Gifted (Sequel to Giftless)

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 33/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

Imagine that you are Stark’s niece and you secretly share a strong relationship with Loki since he entered the crew. One day you get hurt so bad during a mission that you are about to die. Loki knows a spell that will save you and share his immortality with you but you and he will be linked forever sharing thoughts, pain, emotions…

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

Thor was right, you were too bouncy, excited, and happy to go to sleep right away. Loki just laughed at your mood. “I love seeing you so happy, darling,” he told you as you danced around the sittingroom together in your pajamas.

/It was an excellent surprise/ you replied. /It felt like home. I can’t believe that they all wanted to learn the musical just to sing along/ you added. You were touched that everyone there had been singing along.

“I have a feeling they will all be learning ASL soon too,” he chuckled. You laughed at that. You wouldn’t doubt it either. “It will be the new fashion of the court, as the lovelock has already started to become. Apparently almost every magic user in the court has bothered the poor librarians for that spell,” Loki explained with a laugh. He grew more sober when he looked at you. “However, it is quite late and we should get some rest,“ he reminded you. You sighed. "If you cannot sleep in a couple hours, we will go find an adventure,” he promised, reading your expression and mood. You nodded and agreed to at least attempt to get some sleep.

You managed to sleep for a couple of hours. Loki had neglected to use the sleep spell. you don’t know if he had forgotten or was keeping his promise to go adventuring with you when you both couldn’t sleep. At some point you found yourself face to face with Balder and realized that this was a nightmare.

“You lied to me, pet,” Balder snarled at you. You were standing in the bedroom of the mansion you had burned down only a couple of days ago. At least it looked like the bedroom, though surely it was a burned pit by then.

“I’m not going to join you, Balder,” you hissed at him, reaching automatically for a dagger from the enchanted sheath, and summoning a fireball in the other hand. You had your powers back and you weren’t afraid to use them on this creep.

“Loki will abandon you, pet. You will join me, one way or the other-” his voice was a snarl with such conviction in his words and tone.

You were ripped from the nightmare by ice and a hand over your mouth. “Wake up, Kat!” Loki ordered urgently. You struggled under his hands and weight for a minute until you woke properly. He was a lot stronger than you were, all of the Asgardians were. While you’d gained Loki’s powers with the soulbond, you hadn’t gained his strength as well. You hadn’t appreciated his strength until now, since he never used it against you. “Are you awake now?” he asked when you had calmed. You nodded. He slowly got off of you and removed his hand from your mouth. You jumped up into a sitting position and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry. I should have used the spell,” he said softly. You pushed back enough from him to get a good look at him, scared that he had been hurt. His ears were bleeding.

You reached up a glowing blue hand and healed them quickly. /I’m sorry!/ you wailed telepathically.

“It’s ok,” he soothed, pulling you back into his arms, letting you cry on him, out of fear for his safety and fear of the nightmare about Balder. “I’m alright. Darling, I’m just fine,” he whispered and reminded you.

/How are you still conscious?/ you asked him when you had calmed again.

“Luck, mostly,” he admitted. “I was only dozing and woke when you moved and whimpered. I managed to get to you before you had screamed for more than moment. I am so sorry, darling,” he squeezed you tighter, like he was scared that he had let you down.

/It’s not your fault/ you replied. /I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to hurt you/ you whimpered at him, hugging him tightly again.

“I’m alright.” he soothed again. “It is not your fault that my brother hurt you. That is never your fault,” he paused again before he added. “We should go find some tea.” That’s what you always did after nightmares. You nodded and the two of you clambered out of bed to go find the tea. You were too scared to go back to sleep anyway.

Thor found you having a subdued tea party in the kitchen an hour later. You were huddled in the corner of the kitchen, looking rather pathetic. You had a blanket wrapped around both of your shoulders and sipped on your tea in silence. You barely looked up when Thor came in the room. “What happened?” Thor asked you gently. You knew the look you gave him was haunted. He knelt down in front of you, gentling his tone even more. “What happened?” he asked softly, so gently. He offered you a hand. He knew enough from dealing with Loki that physical contact made telekinesis easier.

You placed your hand timidly in his, lessening the power needed to answer him dramatically when you did. /Nightmare/ you managed to get the thought out. You couldn’t focus your thoughts to do any better than that. Thor looked over at Loki and saw where his ears had been bleeding. He seemed to get the rest of the story from that. You looked back down at your cup of tea. You couldn’t even sleep without people being in danger. Thor sat down on your other side, joining your huddle. You sat in silence for awhile, all sipping on tea.

“Did she break through your magic?” Thor finally asked Loki.

“No. I did not use the spell,” Loki admitted, not looking up from his own cup of tea. “I should have,” he added softly. He was haunted too. Thor nodded, taking the new piece of information in.

“Then this is an easy fix for tonight. Tomorrow we will look for more answers,” Thor said reasonably. He pulled the blue vial from his pocket and handed it to you, uncorking it before he did. You hesitated, trying to push it back to him. You couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t risk hurting Loki again.

“Darling, you need sleep. Even with all of your powers and my powers, you are still human,” Loki told you gently. You gave him a look. He barely slept either.

/I can’t even sleep without you being in danger/ you reminded him, tears in your eyes.

“Kat, love, let us help you,” Loki bid you softly. “You do not have to fight alone anymore. I know you spent too many years fighting alone and relying only on yourself and your own wits, and admittedly that idiot uncle of yours occasionally. But you no longer have to anymore. We are in this together. Forever,” he held up his left arm with the soulbond marks glowing because of his emotions. “We will figure this out together. In the meantime, we can help you stay safe. Please, let us help.” You realized that you had been so focused on being strong and not wallowing over missing Loki this last year, that you had gotten way too used to fighting on your own again. You had been so used to being alone the years you didn’t have powers, that you had forgotten how to work cooperatively, how to trust people besides Tony. When Loki came, you had learned all of that, as well as regaining mischief and fun, but the second he was gone you had slipped back into that same stubbornness of doing everything on your own.

/Promise?/ you asked Loki, still terrified.

“I promise, darling,”

“We are all here for you,” Thor added from your other side. He was so comforting and warm cuddled up to. You finally nodded, relenting. Thor handed you the vial again and you reluctantly took it. You downed the contents in one gulp. You sat together for a few minutes longer, both boys offering you the comfort of their presence until the potion took effect. Frigga’s potions were always well crafted, though, and you were nearly asleep in minutes. Loki stood first, letting Thor support your weight when he did.

“Come, darling, time to go back to bed,” Loki bid, reaching down for you. You looked up at him with sleep fogged eyes and managed to wrap your arms around his neck. He scooped you up effortlessly.

“Are you sure you would not like me to-?” Thor asked as he stood, gesturing to you. Loki vanished your blanket and the dishes you had used for the tea.

“I have her,” Loki replied, cradling you more comfortably against his cool chest. You laid your head on his shoulder, succumbing to Frigga’s potion. Thor gave you both an evaluating look. He was too used to dragging Loki back to bed at 3am. You had a feeling he wasn’t used to Loki coming willingly. He was probably also sad that he wasn’t carrying his brother draped over his shoulder. He had way too much fun with that. You let him see your scared expression and he relented, knowing you trusted Loki more than anyone.

“Very well. I will guard, then,” Thor finally answered. He strode beside you as Loki carried you home. You dozed in Loki’s arms while the boys chatted lightly about something. It was nice and comforting, until Thor noticed that you was still at least partially awake. He made the mistake of making a comment about it, directly to you.

“No!” Loki growled. In the same instant, he dropped the arm under your knees so he could clap that hand over your mouth instead. Your feet hit the ground hard enough to jar you. Your mouth was already open to reply to Thor’s comment.

“What’s wrong?” Thor asked, drawing his sword, looking around for the danger. You looked up at Loki with tears in your eyes, exhaustion and emotions running too high. He was holding you against him with his hand still clapped firmly over your mouth.

Loki sighed. “You would not know… Just do not try to talk to her when she is this exhausted. My darling soulbond has no filter when she is half-asleep or more. Which can be pleasant and entertaining. It is not good, however, when she is too tired to remember that she must speak telepathically. Mother’s potion should have had her unconscious by now,” he added. Thor put his sword away, accepting the explanation. Loki turned to you. “I’m sorry, darling. Are you alright?” he asked. You nodded, the movement made difficult by his hand over your mouth, and even more difficult when Frigga’s potion was taking full effect. Stubbornness wasn’t going to keep you awake much longer. You were getting dizzy and your eyes wouldn’t stay open. You couldn’t fall asleep while standing, though, which was probably the only thing keeping you awake. He swept you back up into his arms. “Sleep, love. You are safe,” he reminded you softly once you was resettled. “Thor and I will not let anything happen.“ You believed him. He knew you too well. He had seen you at your best and worst, had spent more that a few nights lying next to you, and you had soothed each other through nightmares. He knew your best and worst habits, and you trusted without a doubt that he knew you well enough to truly protect all of you.

/Love you/ you managed to get the thought to him.

"I love you too,” he replied softly and kissed the top of your head. “Now will you please close your eyes and sleep? It is quite useless to fight against Mother’s potions. I would know,”

Thor roared in laughed. “That is rich, coming from you Brother!” you fell asleep a moment later, listening to their banter with a smile on your face, trusting that they would keep you all safe.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #gifted #chapter 33 #nekoamamori

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hisgirlwonder · 5 years

Text

Atonement - Part Five

Length: 2.2K words Warning: Sadness, regression, mentions of neglect and abandonment, etc Synopsis: With his trust broken, Michael is doing all he can to make you regret ever crossing him. Notes: This is the final part of the series unless for some reason I feel the need in future to write further parts. I hope this part doesn’t hurt your heart too much. A softer, nice ending was requested by my girl @avesatanormalpeoplescareme so I tried to deliver! Enjoy. (I need to write some degrading smut after this)

The saying goes good things come to those who wait but that sentence in itself didn’t extend to a situation like this. Weeks had passed by since that night and you weren’t sure whether it was because Michael had given up completely or that he had something bigger than allowing one of his followers to stick their filth inside you planned. When it came down to it, the truth was that you were worried about Michael; he was usually nowhere to be found and on the off chance you did see him, he was intoxicated in an effort to numb the feelings that had emerged from the last time he put his hands on you.

After everything that had happened and the abundance of free time you now possessed, you discovered solace in the library. The hours seemed to tick by fairly quickly tonight since you’d become enrapt in your favourite book and little did you know it was almost midnight. You were made aware of just how late it was when starting to yawn while finishing the last few pages and try rub away the tiredness but it was no use; your eyes got heavy and hazy.

You admit defeat to the strength of your need for sleep and so you put the novel down and leave the library in search of your bedroom – unfortunately, the only way to get back was to walk past Michaels room. You were pulled tonight more than usual to put your ear to his door and see if you could hear anything because you missed the sound of his voice.

It sounds as if Michael was drunk, like usual, and spilling the contents of his heart to someone.

“I just- I just- I just miss her. N-no-b-body has ever cared about me like she has besides you. I just love the way she smells and her smile.” There’s a break in the somewhat slurred, sad speech and the muffled sounds coming from his room seem he’s crying into his hands.

“I know Michael, I kn-“

It’s Mead. Before she can finish, Michael decides to interrupt her; raising his voice like a child trying to speak over their parent.

“No, you d-d-d-don’t. I traumatised her. I’m a b-bad man.”

“You’re not a bad man but you will feel bad if you don’t get into bed and get some rest soon.”

The longer you stayed there and listened, the more your heart hurt. He was a damaged man and you ended off running to your room to cry yourself to sleep. You wish you never gave into your own curiosity.

The next morning you wake up feeling like you’d been hit by a truck – not surprising at all you passed out from exhaustion after sobbing hysterically into your pillow. All the tears shed last night had given you dry eyes so you try to remedy some of the discomfort with drops, blinking rapidly to spread the solution before getting dressed and walking to the dining area.

As you’re pouring yourself a bowl of muesli, you feel like you want the ground to swallow you whole. Nothing could take away the pain or the sound of Michael crying from your mind. You pick a table close by and exhale loudly as you’re sitting down on the seat. The attempt to eat proves pointless because you’re unable to; your appetite has vanished again after the flashback to the sounds of Michael howling in sadness. You swirl the contents of your bowl around with the spoon in your hand, minding your own business when Mead pops up out of nowhere and asks you to come with her – it wasn’t as if you had anything better to do and you weren’t able to stomach anything so you take a walk.

The interior of Mead’s office is very similar to Michael’s from the furniture to the colour on the walls but it’s not enough to distract you from the confusion ringing between your ears. The look she’s giving you is one you recognise because it’s the exact same one you’d give to Michael when begging for his forgiveness.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. Please believe me when I say I have tried so hard to stop him but he’s a force to be reckoned with. You must know that if it wasn’t you then it would have been something or someone else.” Mead tells you, trying to wipe away the tears as she does. She rises from the chair and walks around the piece of furniture to perch herself on the edge of her desk so she’s closer to you.

“Michael has never really had anybody care for him until I came along. I met him when he was very young and soon learned that real love and affection were foreign concepts to him.”

Then it hits - the way Michael lashed out was about himself than about you.

“You love him and you’ve been trying to avoid it. Why else would you endure what he’s put you through?”

Tears glaze the surface of your eyes when you realise that you really did love him. You’d known it for the longest time and the inability to express it changed it to something else; feelings of hatred towards your own existence and caused you to act out in ways you shouldn’t. Your face drops in embarrassment and you begin to sob again, just like last night, admitting what she already knew. You did love him and you didn’t know how to deal with knowing things were over before they’d even began. Mead pushes your chin up, allowing access to your face so she can wipe away the tears; just like a mother would.

“Michael is special but at the end of the day, he’s just a boy who is fuelled by testosterone. He’s different to other humans because he’s gifted with special powers but they come with a price. In all my years of knowing him, it hasn’t been until recently that he’s been able to get a grasp on them. I guess he was triggered and gave into his darkness. He’s never been like that with anyone else that I’ve ever seen, you know.”

“A homicidal maniac?”

The heavy mood in the room is lightened by a little bit of laughter from Mead at your comment. “No, not a homicidal maniac. What I mean is that you’re the first person I’ve ever seen him open up to.” You wished that she could have stopped right there and you didn’t have to hear anything else that hurt your heart but, unfortunately, she had to continue.

“Michael just has a lot of anger and unresolved issues. His mother, she…”

That very brief moment of happiness at the realisation that Michael probably felt the same way was interrupted by a need to know more about his family. Of course, you wanted to stop and ask about how things with you were different than with other people but you figured now wasn’t the time.

She takes a deep breath and you could tell this subject made her feel uncomfortable but she continued all the same; feeling a responsibility to you. “His mother really hurt him. She couldn’t handle the power he possessed and left him as a child on the step of a building with a note. I was the one who found him when I tried to leave for my lunch break. Ah, that golden-haired, blue-eyed boy soon became the love of my life.”

Mead is smiling at what she’s just said and picks up the snow globe off her desk. You wondered if perhaps Michael had given that to her as a gift the way her eyes twinkled unknowingly while she watched the faux snow fall.

“Michael realises he went way too far when he used Duncan against you and hasn’t been able to face anyone because he doesn’t know how to live with himself.”

You’re hit in the gut with a longing to hold him; to wrap him up and protect him from the world; forgetting what he’d put you through. You thought you probably would seem stupid for wanting to see him but didn’t care. It’s as if Mead herself possesses some of her own magical abilities when she holds out a hand for you to grab. “Come on, let’s go and see him. It’ll be good for both of you.”

To say the walk to Michael’s room was easy would have been a lie because your legs shook with frayed nerves and anxiety caused your chest to tighten. You finally arrive at his room and the sight of his door makes your heart quicken – there’s only a door between you and Michael and trepidation reverberates inside the cavities of your bones.

Mead holds a closed fist up to the surface of his door and quietly explains how Michael isn’t the same person anymore. You’re unsure how to respond but nod to show her you understand. She knocks on the wood and explains to Michael who it is as she’s turning the door handle. Of course, she doesn’t say you’re with her but she explains how she has a surprise for him.

All you can see the moment you’re in the room is Michael. He’s on the couch with his hair in a messy bun, dressed down in a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms with a black t-shirt. So far from the prim and proper Langdon who commanded everyone in a room with the click of his fingers that you almost wanted to pinch yourself to check if this was real.

Michael looks up from what he’s reading when he hears Mead close the door and his eyes widen at the sight of you. The feeling in the room was almost like you meeting each other for the first time. He was a mess with hair probably hadn’t had a brush through it in days and across his face, he wore the signs of sleep deprivation very obviously. His lifeless mouth transforms with effort into a smile, as if his muscles had forgotten how to, and you could see the glimmer of hope in his eyes grow at the vision of you before him; like someone seeing colour for the first time.

Mead takes a seat on the chair to the left of the couch and starts to talk but Michael still remains stuck on you. “We’re here because Y/N wanted to see you. I’ve explained some things to her, do you think you could do the rest? Like we discussed, remember.”

In the seconds that followed her request, he begins regressing before your eyes; timidly biting his lip in anticipation. He didn’t want to muck things up further.

“I’m just... I’m just... I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. You’re a human and I’m a human, and I messed up. I got way too into my feelings.”

Michael begins to fuss and pauses to look at the only mother figure he’s ever known for reassurance. His desperate request is met with a lull of the unease coursing through his veins – Mead tells him that you won’t judge, that everything was okay and that he could continue.

“I- I- I know I’ve been so hurtful. I’ve never been too good at caring for people but it changed when I met you. I always meant it when I said I’d never met anyone like you. You’re just so... so good. You care for the person I am and not my name or the perks of knowing me. I know I don’t deserve your trust, kindness, or loyalty ever again but I hope you know how sorry I am.

Without a second thought, you grab his hand to try and show him you understand what he was saying. Squeezing it tightly, you look into his eyes and hope he can feel your forgiveness. Mead interrupts your moment to tell you she’s going to go get some fresh air, smiling at you as she leaves the room.

The two of you are left alone with only the reality of the situation at hand for company.

“Mead explained things to me. About your past, your family, your powers. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared you’d leave me like she did.”

Tears start to appear in his eyes, much like that day weeks ago, and you don’t hesitate in taking him inside your arms. Unlike in the past, Michael reacted in a way that made you feel like this is what he’d been missing; sinking into your embrace; but it didn’t stop him asking why you were hugging him because, after all, he felt like he didn’t deserve your kindness.

“I was told you didn’t have many hugs growing up and I think we both need to rewrite the past… Don’t you agree?”

“I do.”

Taglist: @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sensitivethot @sacredlangdon @wroteclassicaly @langdonsdemon @sammythankyou @moltenskeleton @taintedaffairs @queencocoakimmie @violett124 @1-800-bitchcraft @americanhorrorstudies @your-daddy-langdon @ticklish-leafy-plant @michaellangdong @creamy-pasta-boi

#michael langdon fanfic #ahs fanfic #american horror story fanfic #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x yn #american horror story #ahs #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #soft!michael #kind of?#i'm so sorry for the inactivity life is just kicking my ass #love you all #fanfic #writing #hopefully this isn't garbage :')

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oh-mother-of-darkness · 5 years

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asks (21)

Anonymous said: Hi! Do you still like Tim Drake?

More than I can describe!

Anonymous said: Please tell me those law school quotes are all from one professor

They are not, but MOST of them are from the civ pro professor. His name is Counseller, and he’s great. He got a standing ovation after his speech at my friend’s graduation yesterday. I once went to dinner at his house and a movie afterwards. He had us all hide his candy in our bags so he didn’t have to pay concession stand prices.

@whambamthanksbatfam said: Do you know canonical nicknames for the Batboys?

Hold up lemme see what I have on file

Off the top of my head I can also think of times that Tim referred to himself as “Timmy” (usually while pretty young), and of course Dick has “boy wonder”

Anonymous said: What do you think will happen to nightwing comics? Writer changes in April, will they be able to reverse the amnesia arc? Do you think maybe the damage to the character is irreversible? I don't understand why they'd allow it especially after what happened when they tried to kill him off. It's also 35th anniversary of his first appearance in a few months. Looking at teen titans, jon kent's age, young justice "coming back" I feel concerned for dc comics' future ):

I’m basically taking my usual approach, which is (as far as comics are concerned)... everything will return to its most profitable form. Comics have a set form. With a few key exceptions-- changes in superhero persona, for example-- things generally make their way back to the “classic” form. Therefore I expect Dick to go back to being Nightwing, in a form we would recognize as typically Nightwing.

Anonymous said: wait..... waitwaitwaitwait..... wait. did u just swear in that hashtag? i have followed you for like 2 years and the closest i've seen to swearing is "sweet texas on high" which ended up becoming a bad habit of mine to say irl and then have to explain where the hell i heard that, and then i said it enough that one friend started saying it as well, then it just spread like a virus in my friend group (this isn't a complaint this is just surprise and amusement. love ur blog!)

Glad to see my nonsense swears are spreading! To be honest, I (really) swear a lot. Don’t tell my mom

Anonymous said: Hey! I have to choose a quote for my yearbook and i want to do a batman/superhero quote but i cant think of one and was wondering if you could help me out? Im looking to go for kinda funny but also has a bit of meaning, ya know? Anyway thank you!

Oooooh boy lemme see

I like Alfred’s quote in these panels. I would also maybe suggest:

"Whenever someone's asked what power they wish they had, flying is always at the top of the list. But I have to admit. I've learned to love falling too." (Nightwing #142, 2008)

I don’t know how helpful I can be on this one, honestly, but there’s my two cents.

night-mom said: Hi, I have a bat-centric side blog called Bat-Losers-Inc. I just discovered some of your writing on tumblr and have been slowly going through it when I have the time. I really love how you write each character of the Batfam and how each of them feels very distinct from each other but also different from their common representations in the Batman fandom. So anyway, I was wondering if you had a favorite Bat family member to write from in terms of point of view/personality?

Hmmmm a couple of years ago, I would have said Jason. For whatever reason, I’ve always given him a talking/fighting style that’s the most similar to my own, but lately I find myself drawn to Tim and Damian. My guess? Their points of view allow me to explore some things I’ve been going through-- specifically a nasty bout of depression, anxiety, and a psychotic breakdown. I would also say that Dick is the hardest for me to write, followed by Bruce, Duke, and Cass. Stephanie is pretty easy.

Anonymous said: For some reason, I have this huge need of some angst... Could u please do a prompt of suicide Tim? But he manages to success?? Please???

Listen. I’m definitely not going to do that, and I don’t think I need to explain why.

Anonymous said: I reread some old B&R comics. Bruce came back from his weird time adventures and one of the first things he said to Damian was, that it was his job as Robin to make sure that Batman gets home safe. Like yeah, I guess it is? But also you're talking to your 10 year old son, I'm waiting for that mentality to bite you in the ass at some point. I mean it kind of did when Damian died to save Dick in Batman Inc. Bruce's parenting is really dangerous sometimes o_o

I agree. I’ve always had a problem anytime the Batman/Robin relationship is framed around what Bruce needs. For the benefit of the child? Sure, I’ll suspend belief for that one. Because an adult needs it? No thanks. That’s why Tim’s origin story bothers me a whooooole lot.

@therusticate said: I just read the fanfic you put out around Christmas with the files on Dick and Damien and I MELTED. There were TEARS! I’m hoping to find some more of your work on your blog; I love your writing style and how everything flows. Thank you so much for creating content! You did a fantastic job and I love it.

Oh, thank you so much! I’m particularly fond of that fic

Anonymous said: how's outlining going?

Anonymous said: what is it that you are outlining??

Anonymous said: I hope your outline turns out good and you do well ❤ you can do it!!

@couldnt-pick-a-name said: Have you finished your outlining yet?

Anonymous said: Good luck on your exams!! I hope they go well and you take care of yourself and don't get too stressed

I appreciate you all for keeping me on topic <3

Exams went... probably pretty well? We’ll find out when grades come back. I was outlining for immigration law, federal administrative law, and constitutional law-- and I did get all of them done. Hallelujah.

Anonymous said: Young Justice 2019 just got published and I realized I haven't consumed enough YJ material!! Do you have any comic recommends??

Oooooh I guess that depends on which Young Justice you’re talking about? Original v. based on TV show? Either way, my recommendation is to look up the associated series. Original YJ (Tim, Bart, Cassie, Conner, etc.) is the 2000 version by Peter David. That team just got a reboot, and I’m reasonably sure that’s what you’re asking about. Then there’s the YJ comic based on the tv show (2011, I believe).

Either way, I like pretty much the entire series. Sounds simple, but that’s my rec.

@dontstopkiwibea said: I've been thinking about your fic with Damien and Tim having a conversation about Tim's depression and the time when Bruce was missing. I think about all that missing time a lot and how so much /could/ have happened to Tim but didn't. And then I think about Damien being sad when Tim was dead. And then I think about Dick hearing about Tim's mental state during that time, how bad it really got, and maybe Bruce learns too. Ahhhh I don't know about you but I want more fics about Tim and getting help

Honestly? Same. I feel like there’s a lot of emotion that’s never officially explored, and that’s a problem I personally enjoy fixing.

Anonymous said: You asked for headcanons, so: Damian likes to give Tim a hard time, and one day Damian scoffs at the idea of Tim getting a pet, saying he’d probably kill it through neglect. Tim doesn’t appreciate that and ends up with a goldfish out of spite. He learns everything there is to know, and his fish is gonna thrive, dammit. And it does. Tim comes to genuinely care for this little creature (and secretly Damian is really pleased Tim is showing such interest in something that isn’t casework or WE).

Love it! Give Tim A Fish 2019

Anonymous said: What are you most looking forward to this year?

Hmmmmm... this is maybe a lil over optimistic, but I’m really looking forward to getting better this year. I’m trying harder and I have better resources than I ever had before.

@xylophonicsynapse said: Which of the bat-kids makes music playlists?

I’d say that all of them DO it sometimes, but the one who really gets into it is Damian. He likes his music organized, thank you very much.

Anonymous said: Hey Amy! Saw the ask about the line "The sun is UP and so is JESUS we are partying today." and I thought it was hilarious I MUST know where its from! Plz and thank you <3

Lmaoooo that was from a post on Easter

#okay I THINK that's all of the questions #the rest are fic prompts #asks

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aurafanfiction · 6 years

Text

Life Is Hard (One Shots) Part 2

Chapter Two: Happy Memories

Donald shivered as he fumbled around in his pockets for the house key that Scrooge had entrusted him with. With his houseboat sunk under the dark waters of the bay he had no choice but to live inside the mansion at this point. At least there would be a fireplace inside, he thought to himself as he struggled to produce the key. It was oddly breezy tonight.

He emptied the contents of his pockets onto the doorstep. Some change clinked against the stone, some rolling off into the night. Bits of garbage from his day that inevitably got stuffed into his pocket when no bins were to be found also fell out. He briefly thought that if Scrooge would pony up some money for a light out here, then he wouldn’t have to sift through a pile of nonsense by moonlight.

Just as his fingers finally touched something that resembled his key the door to the mansion swung open. Donald looked up, on his hands and knees.

“What’re ya doing down there making all that racket?” Scrooge said, looking down on him.

Donald sighed. “I barely made a peep, how could you have heard me?”

“Are you kidding, I can hear a penny drop from fifty yards.” Scrooge answered as Donald hastily scooped up the change that he had dropped prior.

Scrooge’s nephew stood up and followed him inside and over to the cozy looking red sofa in the middle of the living area. The two of them sat down, and Scrooge offered him a cup of the tea he’d been enjoying to which Donald quickly, yet politely, refused. He knew that tea would taste more like hot water than anything.

Donald never realized how eerie the mansion looked at night. He’d only ever come in to tuck tell the boys goodnight, never staying long enough to take a good look when the sun went down. The fireplace housed a dancing flame, the only source of light in the room, casting shadows which joined in its performance.

“Working late again?” Scrooge asked him, a hint of judgment in his tone.

“I just got done working a double shift. One of the other workers called in, and I couldn’t pass up the chance to get some extra cash.” He yawned, even by firelight Scrooge could tell that his nephew’s eyes were heavy and dark.

The old duck looked him over, with those eyes full of pity that Donald didn’t care for at all. Donald had always been one to push himself to his limits trying to earn money so his boys could be happy. So they could have toys, and clothes and food. Now that they lived With Scrooge some of that pressure should have been taken off of him, but it still didn't feel that way. In fact, he’d been working even more than usual.

Donald knew that his Uncle didn’t mean to make him feel so worthless compared to him, but that didn’t make it better. He knew his kids could get more from Scrooge than anything he could give them, but still, he worked himself to exhaustion every day trying to provide something for them. To show his kids that he could take care of them. It would be easier if people would stop it with that damn look all the time.

“Donald, you know you and the boys are welcome to stay here as long as you want? You don’t have to push yourself so hard to earn extra money for them.”

For Donald, It was nights like this that were the hardest. Why couldn’t his Uncle have just been asleep? He surely didn’t need this talk right now. He knew they would always be welcome here, heck he was even grateful for that. But he felt like less than nothing compared to his Uncle. Lately, he couldn’t help that feeling.

Scrooge reached out and touched his shoulder. “It’s not just for you and the boys you know? It gets quite lonely in this empty mansion without the kids running around all day; I want you all to stay Donald. Just don’t tell anyone I said that, can’t have people thinking I’ve gone soft.” He added in a weak attempt at easing the tension.

The attempt at humor did cause Donald to chuckle a little. It was rare for his Uncle to admit he cared about anything other than money.

“You’ve given my boys more than they ever got from me the whole ten years that I’ve raised them. And don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that they have good food and a warm place to sleep. I’m just upset that I can’t be the one to give them all those things. They must think I’m such a failure” Donald put his head into his hands and rubbed his eyes. “Everyone gives me this look like they’re surprised that I even bother to keep going. That they’re sorry for me. What would Della…”

“There isn’t anything for them to feel sorry about. Sure you may not have as much money as some, or most even, but the things that matter when you’re raising kids don’t have anything to do with the cost of your living arrangement or how fancy your clothes look. You’ve done a wonderful job with the things that count.”

Donald sat and listened to his Uncle as he lectured him about not feeling depressed of all things.

“What do you even know about raising kids?” Donald spat before taking in a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.”

“No, that’s exactly right! I don’t know all of the hardships that came with raising those boys. You might think you can’t provide as well as I can, but you’re wrong lad. You’ve already got a ten year head start on me in the providing department.”

“Oh please, you get to take them on these grand adventures everyday, feed them food I’ve never been able to afford, give them a massive home to run around in, and I don’t have a place in that part of their lives. They’ve probably already forgotten all those boring years living on the boat with me.”

“Nonsense, you know those boys up there waited up an hour past their bedtime for you to come home tonight? They could barely keep their eyes open they were so tired, but you know why they wanted to wait?”

Donald shook his head. “No, and why did you even let them stay up so late in the first place? You know bedtime is at nine.”

“Come now Donald that’s really beside the point. The kids stayed up because you always come in there and kiss them goodnight before they sleep, which they no doubt pretend to hate when they’re around you, sure. But they missed that tonight, I could tell they were worried about where you were. You haven’t exactly been around much with your working; they just wanted to see you once today. All this extra work you’ve been doing is what’s letting them down, not your lack of money. And if you think they could ever forget anything you do you’re wrong. You’re the only dad they’ve got Donald.”

A wave of guilt washed over Donald. He had been working a lot these last few weeks. He left today before the boys got up and got back after they were asleep. They hadn’t had a chance to see him all day. It was like that more often than he’d care to admit. Maybe all he needed to give them was a little more time. Perhaps that would help this feeling of failure he’d been stuck with lately.

“Your boys love you, Donald, you’ve done a great job raising them. But forget this notion that you have to provide all the monetary support for them to respect you. They already love you for all of the other things you do for them I’m sure.”

Their heads turned suddenly as they heard a loud creak come from the stairs nearby. Three young ducks looking very sleepy were crouched on them trying to conceal themselves behind the large railing and failing miserably.

“Boys come on down; we know you’re listening.” Donald couldn’t help but smile as the very tired ducks waddled their way over to the sofa to join their uncles. The three brothers climbed onto the couch and cuddled up next to Donald, laying their heads on his shoulders and lap.

“I thought you went to sleep ages ago,” Scrooge mentioned as the three of them shared a yawn.

Huey rubbed his eyes. “We did for a little while, but then I wanted to get some water and woke up Dewey and Louie on accident, and then we heard you talking down here and got curious.”

“Sorry dad, we heard you are talking about us, and your money and stuff,” Dewey said.

Donald still couldn’t get used to them calling him that. Ever since Louie told his brothers that they were free to call him that whenever they wanted, they’d been saying it a lot. He liked it that they thought of him like that, but it was still weird to hear.

Donald ran his hand through Dewey’s messy hair. “You don’t have to be sorry boys. I’m the one who should be sorry; you shouldn’t have to hear me talk about stuff like that. That’s adult stuff that you shouldn’t worry about okay?”

“But we love you no matter how much money you make.” Louie wrapped his arm around his Uncle. The boys were always very clingy when they were tired.

Dewey scooched a little closer to Donald. “Yeah, but we wish you weren’t working so much. We don’t ever get to see you anymore. We’d rather spend time with you, even if it means we don’t get as many toys and stuff.”

“We’re worried about you,” Huey brought up.

Donald was now feeling terrible. It was true; he had been neglecting them lately in favor of working longer and longer hours. It couldn’t be helped if he felt like he was letting them down either way. It’s just the way he felt. What made it worse was that they had to see him in such a state.

“You know boys; everyone has times in life where they feel a little sad. Sometimes we know why, and other times it just takes us over for no reason. And no matter what you do it doesn’t want to go away.”

Scrooge cleared his throat on the other side of the couch “Eh, Donald? Is this an appropriate conversion to have?” His eyes darted towards his grand-nephews then back at Donald.

“They have as much right to know about how I’ve been feeling as anyone.”

The kids looked up at Donald, all of them seemed a little confused. It was strange hearing their Uncle, who was usually so happy around people talk like this.

“Boys when I found out your mom disappeared I swore I’d always take care of you in her place. But I feel like I’ve been letting her down lately. I don’t make enough money to take care of you the way you deserve…”

“What are you talking about?” Huey interrupted him. “Shouldn’t we get to be the judges of whether or not you’re taking care of us well?”

“Yeah, we love having you as our dad,” Dewey added. “Even if you can be boring sometimes.”

Donald chuckled at that. He supposed that he could be rather boring, especially compared to their mutually much richer Uncle.

“Yup and you always made sure we had clothes and food. But you also worked your butt off to give us toys, and to take us out places.” Louie joined in trying to cheer up their uncle. “You’re one of the hardest working ducks I know.”

“And you were always there when we needed you too. You think we forgot that stuff but we remember some things. Like what about when we were five? Dewey was starting to have all those nightmares, and you got him that stuffed animal to make him feel better. He still sleeps with that thing.” Huey giggled.

Dewey blushed a little. He did still sleep with that stuffed dog hidden under his pillow; he didn’t realize that his brother’s knew about that. It didn’t matter anyway, the toy still made him feel close to his Uncle.

Donald thought back to that time, it felt like such a long time ago. The boys had been about to start school that year, and the separation anxiety had been affecting Dewey and Louie way more than their older brother. They didn’t want to be away from him for a whole school day; they wanted to stay with him. Maybe it was his fault that they had been so dependent on him, perhaps he had been too overprotective?

The nights following that one had been hard. Louie was handling the notion of attending school a little better after Donald had assured him that he’d have his brothers there to keep him company. Dewey, on the other hand, would not stop having these horrible nightmares about being abandoned. He had tried to assure his nephew that of course he’d never do something like that, and that he’d always be there. The dreams persisted.

Sleepless nights had become normal in the following weeks. Donald had allowed Dewey to sleep in his bed, which had helped a little. But it wasn’t until he’d thought to try buying him a little friend, something to comfort him when he felt alone, that he managed to stop the nightmares.

“Dewey, this is Spot.” He had said, extending a small stuffed dog. It was a simple, cheap-looking brown dog with white spots and floppy ears, but to Dewey it would become his best friend. “He’s my special friend, and he’ll keep you company whenever we have to be apart.”

Dewey reached out his little hand as Donald gently gave his nephew the toy.

“When you have him with you, you’ll have me with you too, that way you’ll never have to feel lonely. He’s a little bit magic that way.” Donald smiled as his little boy stared in wonder at the gift.

Things like that, they weren’t in any of the books that he had read. For most of their lives so far he felt like he’d been winging pretty much everything as he went. It's not like he was expecting to have to raise three boys after all. Even so, he was proud of the young men he’d raised; they could have turned out awful with the life his kids had to go through, instead, they turned out to be good boys, mischievous boys, sure, but at least they were kind. That was more important to him than anything.

Dewey had squeezed that little puppy toy so hard when Donald gave it to him. He was glad that he loved it so much, and kind of proud that he was able to come up with the idea, as simple as it seemed.

Once Dewey had Spot to sleep with the nightmares seemed to stop, and as far as he knew they never came back. He couldn't beleive that his boys remembered that time.

Donald snapped back to reality as he saw his boys staring up at him, probably wondering why he hadn’t answered the question Huey had posed a moment ago.

“Of course I remember that day, I couldn’t sleep for weeks because Dewey kept waking me up every night. That’s hard to forget.” Donald laughed.

The boys were too sleepy to let out more than a soft chuckle. Louie glanced up at his Uncle and smiled.

“Yeah and you accepted me for who I am, not every parent would do that. I was so scared to tell you that I had a crush on that boy in class, but you made me feel like it was a totally normal thing,” Louie explained. “You didn’t need money for that, either.”

Dewey chimed in wanting to include himself in the conversation. “Hey, what about that time when Huey was getting picked on for being a huge nerd and almost wanted to quit school,”

Huey glared at his brother. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I can call you a nerd ‘cause I’m your brother; it’s only mean if other people do it,” Dewey said, trying to explain how sibling privileges work. “Besides, you know I love ya that way.”

Donald had already tuned out his kid's bickering, a skill that had been well developed over the years, thinking back to the incident they were referring to. That had been another case he hadn’t thought to prepare for.

That day had started out perfectly normal as he recalled. Donald sent the boys on their way to school; they had just begun their 3rd-grade classes about a month ago, and Huey was loving all the new topics they were learning. It pleased Donald to know that he wouldn’t have to convince at least one of his boys to go to school every morning.

Huey was always explaining to him how to do different math problems and the newer, bigger, words they were learning. Honestly it was stuff that Donald himself had forgotten a long time ago having been out of school for so long, but he loved seeing that his boy was excited about it all.

What he hadn’t thought about was the fact that the kids would get more ruthless the older they got, and they had started making fun of Huey for being so smart.

Donald remembered squeezing his oldest child in a tight hug as he bawled his eyes out. He had picked them up from class, and according to Huey’s brothers, the other kids had been teasing him because he liked learning so much. Dewey and Louie had stood up for their brother, and that made him the proudest of all, but that didn’t change the fact that he had a crying eight-year-old clinging to him. Just great.

When the four of them got home, he pulled Huey to the side to talk with him. It took a while for him to finally stop crying long enough to get any words in.

Donald moved Huey so that he was standing in front of him. His eyes were puffy and red, he sniffled as Donald held him there.

“Huey, honey, what happened.” Donald had asked him with the soothing voice he used to calm his angry or crying kids. He waited very patiently for Huey to get his words out.

“I never w-want to go back to s-school, ever again!” Huey hiccuped. “They called me a nerd; they said I’d n-never get any friends ‘cause everyone h-hates smart kids who know lots of stuff.”

Donald rubbed Huey’s back comfortingly. “Huey, you love school and learning. Don’t let some bullies stop you from doing the things you like.” He picked up the small duck and placed him onto the couch next to him. “Kids get jealous of people who are smarter than them, so they call them bad names and make fun of them.” Donald explained, looking right into his nephew’s eyes. “You are going to be a great scientist, or engineer, or anything that you want because you’re such a smart kid.”

“Really?” Huey sniffled.

Donald smiled at his boy. “Absolutely kiddo, people are going to call you a nerd, but be proud of it, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Wear that title like a badge of honor. One day you’re gonna be the boss of all those bullies, and you’ll be doing amazing things with all the knowledge you’ll have.”

Huey nodded, accepting his uncles words of wisdom.

“So do you think we can try going back to school tomorrow.” Donald asked. His 8-year-old nodded and gave him a big hug. “That’s my boy.”

“You were lost in thought again.” He heard Scrooge quietly tell him, as he drifted back into reality once more.

Donald glanced down at his boys. All of them were fast asleep in his lap just like when they were little. For a moment he felt a short pain in his heart. He wished Della could have seen the wonderful children she gave birth to. That she could see how thoughtful and kind they had turned out to be, going so far as to try to comfort him when his deression had overtaken him.

He couldn’t believe that his boys actually did remember some of those things. Maybe he had some impact in their lives after all. He was lucky to have them.

They’re just like you sis, he thought to himself as they snored softly. They really do make everything around them so much better. Heck, they managed to bring Scrooge and I back together after all these years. All I want is for them to be happy, maybe money isn’t the answer? I need to be here for them, like I used to be before we started living here, and they can be here for me too.

I wonder if you’re still out there Della. Sometimes I hope that you found a way to survive up there for all these years. I know that’s a silly dream, but what I wouldn’t give to have it be true. For you to see your boys for the first time. All I know is that until then, even if that’s forever, I will take care of these kids. I can’t give them money, but I’ll give them enough love for you and I both. That’s my new promise to you.

Donald stretched out his arms. “Well I’m gonna get these sleepy heads back into bed, mind carrying one?” Donald asked his Uncle. “They’re not as light as they used to be, two is pretty much my limit.”

Scrooge nodded. “Sounds good, then you should get some well earned sleep too. And don’t you worry about money anymore alright? I may be cheap but I do care about you and the boys, I’m happy to get you anything you need. And that doesn’t make you any less of a parent to them. I hope they were able to show you that”

Donald nodded and smiled at that. Scrooge lifted Huey gently off of the sofa, careful not to wake him. Donald took Dewey and Louie in each arm holding them close to his chest as they worked there way to the boys bedroom.

The elder ducks placed each one in their beds before Scrooge headed for his own room. Donald stayed behind a moment, watching his boys sleep. They looked so at peace, he was glad that they could still sleep soundly after everything they’d learned this month about their mother. He leaned over each one and kissed them each on their foreheads before turning towards the door.

“Goodnight my sons.”

He knew he would never shake of the lingering sadness of everything that he’d lost ten years ago. How could he? And maybe he wouldn’t ever be able to give them everything in the world. But these boys of his were still here with him, and they were enough. They had to be enough. And he’d give them all the love in the world instead.

Thanks for reading this whole thing. I hope it brought you some sort of enjoyment today. =) As always any comments are greatly appreciated and I hope you all have a beautiful day.

#ducktales fanfiction #hurt/comfort #family #fluff #dad donald #huey duck #dewey duck #louie duck #Ducktales #sleepy ducks #scrooge mcduck

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redrobinfection · 6 years

Text

(23) “Rainy Day”

JayTim Christmas in July 2018 - Day 23 “Rainy Day”

"No," said the little prince, "I'm looking for friends. What does tamed mean?"

"It's something that's been too often neglected. It means, 'to create ties'…"

" 'To create ties'?"

"That's right," the fox said. "For me you're only a little boy just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you have no need of me, either. For you I'm only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, we'll need each other. You'll be the only boy in the world for me. I'll be the only fox in the world for you…" [1]

Tim sank into the cushion of the window seat and let the words wash over him, his mind wandering as Jason coaxed the story out of yellowed, musty pages. He gazed out at rain sheeting down from the steel-grey sky in shifting, incessant torrents, the sound of it a gentle white noise under the warm, smooth timbre of Jason’s voice. He felt himself drifting off, carried along by the waves of soothing sound.

"…So I'm rather bored. But if you tame me, my life will be filled with sunshine. I'll know the sound of footsteps that will be different from all the rest. Other footsteps will send me back underground. Yours will call me out of my burrow like music. And then, look! You see the wheat fields over there? I don't eat bread. For me wheat is of no use whatever. Wheat fields say nothing to me. Which is sad. But you have hair the color of gold. So it will be wonderful, once you've tamed me! The wheat, which is golden, will remind me of you. And I'll love the sound of the wind in the wheat…" [1]

Jason paused to turn the page, breaking Tim out of his trance. He hummed thoughtfully. The older man, facing him on the other end of the seat, looked up.

"Hmm?"

"I was just thinking," Tim began softly, " 'Create ties'…'a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes'…’wheat fields'…" He trailed off and wriggled his toes under the blanket Alfred had thrown over them, tickling Jason's leg as he looked up to meet his gaze playfully. "What are our 'wheat fields' I wonder?"

"Are you trying to insinuate that you've tamed me?" Jason teased, clutching a hand to his chest melodramatically and recoiling as if offended. Tim smiled.

"Well, you've tamed me, at the very least."

Jason huffed a quiet laugh, his eyes soft, then looked away, a fond grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Tim followed his gaze out through the window - through the deluge, across soggy Manor lawns, and into the dark void of the forest beyond - and one again lost himself in swirling eddies and the hushed roar of the rain. This line of storms didn't look like it would be letting up anytime soon and patrol would likely be a miserable, sodden mess tonight.

The silence stretched between them, comfortable and warm, like the blanket they shared, and Tim relaxed into it, wrapping himself up and sinking into it, languidly reveling in this rare moment of tranquility - a rarity in lives such as theirs.

"The sky," Jason blurted out suddenly, turning his gaze back to him. Tim tilted his head in confusion.

"What?"

"You know how the sky gets in the summer sometimes?"

"Uhhh..."

Jason chuckled and looked down at his knuckles. He rubbed a thumb over his rough, calloused skin absentmindedly as he explained, "In mid to late summer, when the humidity is up but the clouds have cleared out for once, and you look straight up, usually right before dusk, but sometimes at dawn, the sky turns this hazy, steely, purple-y blue that is somehow deep and intense, but also faded and hazy and ethereal all at the same time...

"That is the color of your eyes," Jason finished quietly. He looked up, meeting Tim's wide-eyed gaze, and nodded, as confirming it to himself. "Every time I see that sky now, and, heck, even when I don’t - every time I look up at the sky, it reminds me of you." He huffed an embarrassed laugh at himself and shook his head.

"I've never been much of a 'blue-skies-and-sunshine' kind of guy, even back when I wore the short shorts and shitting sunshine was practically part of the job description" - Tim ugly snorted, slapping a hand over his nose and mouth, but not before Jason heard him and grinned. “Give me a dark stormy night any day of the week,” he continued, “but more and more these days I cherish each and every clear day Gotham spares us, and I stay up past dawn more these days than I’d like to admit, hoping to see that certain blue just because it reminds me of you.”

They stared at each other for a long moment before Tim cleared his throat and looked away, heat rising to his cheeks. Jason was still grinning at him, half-sappy-romantic and half-teasing, as if he could tell how discomfited Tim was by his forthright honesty, and it was hard for Tim not to laugh in embarrassment and grin back at him, but he took care to keep his expression mock-serious as he considered his response.

"Hmmm, well, I guess... trees?"

Jason squinted and leaned forward. "Trees?"

Tim fought down a smile. "Yeah, you know the trunks. Every time I see a thick, strong trunk I'm reminded of your thighs-"

Jason burst out laughing, completely obliterating any lingering traces of the previous quiet, contemplative mood. "Tree trunks remind you of my legs?!"

"So thick," Tim teased, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Jason howled.

When their mirth had died down, Jason stood and announced his intention to go see what Alfred was cooking up for dinner. Tim smiled to himself. Jason liked to act as if he was only going down to pester Alfred and mooch the food, but Tim and Alfred both knew -- and Jason knew that they knew -- that he deliberately threw himself into Alfred's path specifically so he would get conscripted to help.

Alfred didn’t like accept help -- he’d say it was his job to look after them, not the other way around -- and Jason always seemed afraid let the family see him care too much -- as if it might make disagreeing with them over the other things that much harder -- but this little farce let them get around all that. Their family had a lot of “little farces” if he was being honest. No one would ever admit to any of it out loud, and Tim often rolled his eyes at the lot of them -- himself included -- but he also loved the little secret ways that Jason would show he cared; he loved that hidden soft side Jason pretended not to have.

Dragging his thoughts back to the present, Tim acknowledged and replied that he'd be down in a few minutes, then turned back to the window, pulled the blanket up over his chest, and curled into the residual heat, hoping to savor the peaceful, contented mood for just a few moments longer.

As he stared out at the rain, his thoughts turned to the roof of Gotham Cathedral, and then to the walls of the Gotham University School of Architecture[2]. Both were covered in copper sheeting that had oxidized over time, taking on a patina that could look blue on some days and green on others -- a color perfectly beautiful, unpredictable and organic. This led him to think back to the time they had once burned copper in high school chemistry class. The resulting blue-green flame had burned itself into his memory, so ethereal in the dark room, a surreal blue green blaze that was almost almost electrifying.

Actually, the color of oxidized and oxidizing copper was really not very far off from Robin's Egg Blue, he realized with a sense of irony, and it was funny, he thought, that even though the color of the oxidation and the flame were nearly the same, the patina often seemed heavier, as if weighed down by the years of wear it took to form, while the other seeming more intense, having been born of the heat and violence of rapid change.

Tim had a feeling he’d be turning to stare at the copper roofs around Gotham more often now. There was one such roof on his patrol route, the color of it so bright, but so deep, and in the right light almost as vibrant as copper on fire. That color, sometimes worn and heavy, sometimes bright and lively. Always intense. Just like his eyes…

“The wheat, which is golden, will remind me of you. And I'll love the sound of the wind in the wheat...”

~*~

[1] All Italicized excerpts are from Antoine Saint-Exupéry's (1900-1944) Le Petit Prince, trans Richard Howard

[2] I based this off a real-world building; the Penn State University School of Architecture.

#my writing #christmasriverswrites #jaytim #jaytimss #jaytim christmas in july 2018 #jaytimxmasinjuly #day 23 #rainy day #what better to do on a rainy day then curl up in a window seat with a good book and your favorite person?#its been raining here all weekend and all day today so the prompt is fitting #(it wasn't raining when i wrote this though)#(this may come as a shock to some but I write a lot of my stuff waaaaay in advance and for these events often out of order)#(I wrote this fill fifth [I've written 15 so far] on 19 Jun)#i've never talked about what I headcanon their eye colors to be so here you go #i love le petit prince :'3 #the passages i included here are some of my favorite from the entire book #EDIT: major edits 2020.07.26 #i was never satisfied with how this turned out; these edits were a long time coming #still not sure i'm satisfied >____>...

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