#I’m not complaining I just find the whiplash funny sometimes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

belphies-cuhm-sluht · 3 years

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Request!! I think this is in the lines of parenting but having a kid with lucifer 👉🏼👈🏼 I love him I’m such a simp

Pairing these two together because they’re pretty much the same thing. Thank you for requesting!

First Born (Lucifer x F!Reader)

WARNING : (Pregnancy, Babies, Children)

A child!? A baby?! You want one of those… those things? They’re messy and irritating and they have absolutely no use to him. Why? Why would you want to do that to yourself, why would you want to do that to him? Are his brothers not enough like children already? Go take care of one of them, they’ll gladly keep you busy with their child-like behavior, and you won’t even have to ask. Better yet, you could take care of Cerberus if you want to be motherly and nurture something. Please, be his guest. That’s one less thing that he’d have to jam pack into his daily schedule.

“It’s not for those reasons, Lucifer. I want a child with you, it’ll bring us closer. Don’t you think?” Was that a legitimate question that you’d like the answer to, because he was quite sure that you wouldn’t like what he had to say. He didn’t want to actually hurt your feelings, that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of him, and he prided himself in being one of the more gentlemanly of his brothers, so he just shook his head, burying his face back in the work stack that Lord Diavolo had given him. If he just ignored you, you would leave and give up on the topic, that’s what usually worked with Mammon. What he wasn’t expecting was what you’d say next as you stood up from the chair, still smiling to yourself. “Well, I guess it’s too late to ask those questions anyway.”

What was that supposed to mean? His head snapped up from his desk, watching as you walked toward the door. Too late to ask those questions? He shook his head, grumbling to you as you reached the door. “That’s not very funny, Y/N. I don’t take jokes like that lightly.” He didn’t, it wasn’t something that you shouldn’t joke about, and he didn’t need that kind of stress when he was surrounded by it on the daily anyway, he thought you’d have enough common sense to respect that.

It wasn’t a joke though, and he found that out a month later. Yes, you had been telling him over and over that you weren’t joking at all, but of course, he didn’t want to believe it. The thought of a child repulsed him, it made him gag. What use would a child be to him, other than taking away the already sparse time that he had with you. They would be of no use at all, only a hindrance in your relationship.

You hadn’t gotten that god forsaken monthly waterfall of blood, and at first he thought that he had just miscalculated… but you usually got it at the same time every month. You weren’t complaining about cramps or the usual things that seemed to bother you, and unbeknownst to you, annoy the hell out of him. Now you were just… emotional? He didn’t understand it, not at all. It’s not that he knew nothing about women, he knew the basics, but this was all new to him.

When you had run into his office crying at one point, he was ready to kill someone. Who had hurt you? He’d handle them immediately. “I saw a picture of a kitten and it was just so cute!” Then you started sobbing, and… what the hell is your problem? Why are you crying so hysterically over a kitten? It’s an animal, what? Did you want one? Would that make you feel better? He doesn’t understand. Please explain to him what is going on. His eyes watched with nothing but confusion as you wiped your tears, smiling softly up at him and shaking your head. “Sorry about that. I’ll go.” And you did. You left just as quickly as you had entered, as if none of that had happened. You were giving him emotional whiplash.

He tried to find excuses for literally everything, and most things he could find excuses for. Not getting your period? It was just your body changing in reaction to the Devildom, he read that sometimes that happens, bodies change when they’re in a different setting or what not. You crying over almost anything and pretty much everything? Hormones are strange, women are strange emotional beings. Maybe you just like to cry a lot? Or maybe you just miss home and you’re crying about that and blaming it on other things.

Everything had a reason, everything had a logical explanation that pointed to everything but… pregnancy. That couldn’t happen, not just because he didn’t want it to happen, but because it just wasn’t biologically possible. Your bodies were two completely different things, different beings. It shouldn’t have happened. What he couldn’t find a reason for though was the now constant puking that seemed to hit you every day, the same time of day as if it was following its own schedule. Were you ill? No. Were you running a fever? No. Had you eaten something that had gone bad? No. What was wrong with you then? By the fifth day worry had set in. Was it a reaction to the Devildom? Had something happened? It had to be something, something that didn’t involve procreation.

So he took you back up to earth, played it off as a mini vacation, and for some reason, not that he wasn’t used to it at this point, but you cried, clinging onto his shoulder as you told him how excited you were. If he wasn’t so worried about your strange illness and your odd mood swings, he would have found it endearing. This also wasn’t an actual vacation, this was more of a trial and error experiment. See if you still threw up when you were on earth. Simple really, a hypothesis and a conclusion. If you stopped puking, he would keep you up on earth. If you kept puking, he would take you to the hospital to get you checked out.

He watched you closely as you cuddled next to him on the hotel bed, counting down the time. It would supposedly be happening soon, and his little experiment would either fail or succeed. Just like clockwork, as if on queue, you pulled out of his arms and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door shut, your body forcibly removing everything you had eaten that day. He didn’t waste a second, as soon as you had left the bathroom he was ready to take you to the hospital. Of course, Lucifer wasn’t stupid. He knew that this was a sign of pregnancy, but he wanted so badly for it to be anything but that, he needed to get an official diagnosis.

So it turned out that you weren’t joking, all of his excuses were wrong, and you were in fact… pregnant. First reaction? Get rid of it. Get it out. He doesn’t want that added responsibility. Of course, when he even began speaking those words you seemed so upset, so heartbroken, he immediately shut his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was make you cry again, but seriously, why? Why do you want to keep it? Do you know how much work a child is? How expensive one is? Second reaction? How the hell is it going to work? How is it going to come out? Will it have his horns? Or will it be more like you? It could rip you to shreds. Demons, as you know, are much stronger than humans, surely that would still be true with a demon child. He was worried, of course, because he wasn’t about to lose the one person he actually loved to something that wasn’t even supposed to happen. Third reaction? Protect you at all costs. Not because you were carrying his child, he could care less about what happened to it. You were vulnerable though, far more fragile than you were before, and even then he would worry himself sick about you whenever you weren’t around. It would be far worse now. How was he supposed to focus on anything else when he had you to worry about even more?

As you grew, and his child grew, he became more possessive over you. His brothers weren’t allowed within five feet of you, worried that they might do something stupid and end up hurting you. He couldn’t deny the faint glow that pregnancy gave you, and the sense of pride that filled him knowing that it was his seed that brought on that glow. He still didn’t really take part in any of the pregnancy milestones though, he could honestly care less. Feeling it kick for the first time? So what? He could kick too, what’s so special about it? Hearing the heartbeat? Was that supposed to make him feel something other than disgust knowing that it was still living and thriving in your womb? Still though, if he saw you go to any of his brothers to talk about it he’d quickly pull you away. Why tell them about it? They don’t have to know. He’d bring you to his office and pretend to listen to all the things that you were excited about as he sat at his desk going over paperwork.

Once the child was born, he distanced himself, only willingly helping financially because it was sadly his responsibility to do so, and only actually interacting with his child when he really felt like you needed the help. Other than that, he was busy, happily taking on way more work than was good for him just to avoid having to hear the child cry. He hated it, he hated how much time it sucked out of you, time that you could have been spending with him if you had just listened to him. He wouldn’t even come up to the room at night, choosing to fall asleep at his desk just so he didn’t have to wake up in the middle of the night to hear it crying. The kid cried so much, it drove him crazy. You would blow it off, telling him that it was just what babies do, but then he’d just question what the use of a child is if all it does is cry. He could tell that you were exhausted, you clearly weren’t getting an adequate amount of sleep, but then again, you wanted this, not him, yet you still seemed happy, he didn’t understand you, or the strange maternal bond you felt with the child.

Over time though, you stopped bringing the child into his office. At first he was overjoyed by it, glad that he didn’t have to hear it or hear you making over it. Then you stopped coming to his office altogether, and although his pride wouldn’t allow him to admit it out loud, he missed seeing you. He even… missed seeing the child, because with the child was always you. He walked out of his office, his eyes immediately landing on the back of your head. You were sitting on the couch, your knees bunched up slightly for the child to lay against, seemingly happy for once considering he didn’t hear any crying. You were talking though, and he knew you weren’t talking to the baby. Then he saw someone's arms reach over and grab the child off your lap, holding it up in the air, even getting a… giggle out of it.

It was a sting to his pride, a pride that he had no idea existed up until now. Fatherly pride, and it made him nauseous, angry, and even… jealous? Hearing the child… his child… laugh for someone else, for one of his brothers, it didn’t sit right with him. Then there was you, smiling over to his brother while he was holding HIS child. He wouldn’t stand for it. It was crossing a very thin line that he had made before the child was even born. He had given the rules to his brothers to stay away from you, to stay away from his child. Had you… had you gone to his brothers though? That stung even worse.

He didn’t want to make a scene, he didn’t want to let on that he was feeling anything other than his usual indifference, but inside he was fuming. He walked over to where you sat, and at first you didn’t even look up at him, neither did Beel. Were you two ignoring him? He cleared his throat, getting the attention of you, Beel, and even the child, all three of you turning to look at him. “Y/N, I’d like a word with you for a moment, in my office, now. That’s not a request.” The way you smiled to Beel… was it his mind playing tricks on him, or was that the same smile you had given him when you had first started together? No, it couldn’t be. You wouldn’t do that to him. You leaned in to kiss the top of his son’s head, as if you were leaving him with Beel. “Bring him with you.”

“Who? Beel? I mean…” He couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped him, he didn’t have time for this. He reached down and grabbed the child from Beel, not expecting the child to actually try to reach back for his brother. The way that you laughed at his child’s reaction, like this was a normal thing, the way that Beel actually reached out to try to take the child back. That hurt worse than anything. He pulled his son back against his chest, holding onto him tightly as he walked back to his office. It felt foreign, actually holding him, and he had seemingly grown so much since the last time he had seen him. How long had it been?

You shut the door behind you quietly, moving over to grab the now fussy child out of his arms, his pride only being crushed more and more now. He had stopped crying immediately as soon as you grabbed him, clearly finding comfort in your arms rather than his own fathers. “What is it? Make it quick, it’s almost time for him to eat.” You sounded upset, irritated, and your eyes held the same emotions as you looked up at him. What was he supposed to say? That he didn’t want you around his brother anymore? Clearly you didn’t listen to him the first time he told you.

“What were you doing with Beel? Why was he holding him? I thought I told you to stay away from them.” He watched his child perk up at even the mention of his brother's name, taking a deep breath to try to control the anger that was so close to boiling over. He wouldn’t have his child, his son looking at anyone else as a father figure. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him as you sat down in the chair across from his desk.

“Why do you care? Do you even know how old he is? Do you even know anything about him?” He clenched his teeth, shaking his head as he leaned against his desk. “You made it clear that you didn’t want anything to do with him. Don’t act shocked that someone else filled the shoes that you didn’t even want to try on, Lucifer.” What was that supposed to mean? He didn’t understand, yet the words irritated him. Filling the shoes? He could sense that your irritation was growing even more as you waited for him to respond, but he didn’t know what to say. For once, he didn’t have a response. So he just stared at you, waiting for you to elaborate further. “Six months, Lucifer. He’s six months old, and how many times have you held him? I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen him in your arms. You haven’t been around for six months, and I get it. You didn’t want him, so I’m not going to force him on you. But I’m not going to deny help when it’s offered.”

Six months… had it really been that long? It didn’t seem like it, but with the way he’d sleep at his desk and wake up in the same spot, days seemed to blend. He didn’t even know what day it was anymore. That wasn’t even the worst part to him though, not at all. What really upset him, or, better yet pissed him off was that his brother had crossed the line that he had so clearly made. “You shouldn’t have accepted the help. This was your decision to make, you had options clearly given to you. My brother didn’t need to be dragged into this.” He moved back around to the other side of his desk, sitting in his chair and staring at you, his hands folded under his chin. “Tell him that you don’t need his help anymore. I… will be helping from now on.”

He didn’t want his own son to hate him, to loathe him like he did his own Father. That was the last thing he wanted, and he surely didn’t like the fact that his child would rather go to Beel than his own father. Let it be known though, he wasn’t doing this for you, and he wasn’t doing this for his child. He was doing it for himself, because his pride wouldn’t let it be done for any other reason than that.

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pitviperofdoom · 3 years

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I really liked your 'Life Preserver' excerpt and I'd love to read more about it. I liked the interaction between Gerry and Georgie, their characterization and Gerry's description of his relationship with Jon, plus this exchange: “He thinks your mum’s a homophobe, you know.”“You know, he’s probably right? Think she might just hate the idea of love in general, though.”“Messy divorce, I take it,”“Rohypnol and garden shears were involved, so yeah, I’d say it was pretty messy.”

Thanks!

Yeah, Gerry and Georgie surprised me as a really interesting dynamic to explore. In spite of Georgie’s caution around the Entities, Gerry just feels like the kind of person Georgie would get along with, given the people she canonically ends up loving.

Anyway here’s another part I’ve written! This one actually has Jon and Gerry in it.

---

When Jon went in for his next shift, things went smoothly enough to be genuinely suspicious. Tina was his desk partner again, and she greeted him with the same cordiality as always. No one official-looking ever came by to speak with him.

The only hint that anything had happened that night was a campus-wide e-mail paying respects to Daniel Lattimer, one of the subject librarians, who was reported as having “passed unexpectedly”. The message held all of the usual official platitudes and nothing else; Jon had read it word for word several times to be sure.

Someone should have known, shouldn’t they? It wasn’t as if he had been careful about covering his tracks, beyond making his tip anonymous. The library had cameras. He was sure he’d left at least a few shoe prints in all the blood.

But nothing came of it. The first hour passed peacefully, with nothing more exciting than a couple of patrons he had to inform of overdue books.

Jon spotted the familiar dark figure out of the corner of his eye, even before Tina hissed a warning at him. He raised his head to watch Gerard Keay’s approach, chest suddenly tight with nervousness.

How on earth was he supposed to explain this?

“Hey.” Gerard was in front of him already, leaning his elbows on the desk as usual. “Any word on that book? I tried to come in yesterday, but you were closed.”

“R-right.” Jon hesitated. There were several ways he could answer this. He could, of course, be utterly truthful and tell him that he’d burned the thing on account of it being made of meat and killing one of the librarians. He almost laughed at the thought. At worst, Gerard would complain to someone about Jon being unhelpful; at best, he’d find it funny, but he’d demand a real answer once he was done laughing about it.

He could lie and stall by saying that the book was still on its way. But that was a temporary fix at best, and it would only lead Gerard to keep coming in and asking.

And would that really be so bad? Jon shook his head to clear away the thought.

“Right,” he said again. “A-about that. Unfortunately—” He slipped his bandaged hand behind the desk, out of sight. “—we were unable to find the book in storage. It seems to have been marked incorrectly. It happens sometimes. Though not very often, I assure you,” he added hastily. “But it’s been marked down as missing, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” Gerard’s face was the very picture of disappointment. “That’s a shame. Really did need that one.”

“Terribly sorry for the inconvenience.” Jon tried to sound like he meant it.

It was hard to force down the sheer, overwhelming relief. Just last night he’d regretted his own paranoia, but now? If he hadn’t gone back, if he hadn’t checked for the book…

Well, the library might not have been closed yesterday. And he didn’t have the first shift at the circulation desk. And whoever did might have been someone who didn’t know, someone who wasn’t haunted by the name Jurgen Leitner, who might have taken the book from the cart and handed it straight over—

The unwelcome memory of Mr. Lattimer’s body rose up behind his eyes, juxtaposed over the young man standing before him.

As a child, he’d doomed someone else to a gruesome death that should have been his. So maybe this time… maybe he’d actually…

“Well then,” said Gerard, shaking him out of his bubble of thoughts. “Guess that’s—er, guess I’ll look elsewhere…”

“Right,” said Jon. “Unless there was anything else you needed…?” He tried not to sound too hopeful.

“No, thanks, that’s it,” said Gerard, already turning away. “Thanks for all the help.”

“Oh, I hardly—I mean, I didn’t really do much, in the end.”

Gerard regarded him for a moment, head tilted to one side with a thoughtful look. Then, quite without warning, he smiled at him. “Don’t sell yourself short. You were great.”

“O-of course,” Jon stammered as Gerard turned to leave again. “Oh, wait—wait a moment.”

Gerard looked back. “Yeah?”

Jon dug into his pocket, pulling out the lighter. “Is this yours?” he asked, placing it on the desk. “I found it on one of the tables in the reading room, and I remembered you had it the other day…”

Instead of taking it, Gerard simply flashed him one last grin. “Keep it,” he said. “I’ve got loads.”

“It’s really not good to keep ignition sources in a library,” Jon protested, feeling inordinately flustered.

Gerard laughed, a brief, bright thing, and—

“D’you want to get coffee?” Jon blurted out.

The smile froze on Gerard’s face, before giving way to surprise. “What?”

A stab of terror nearly robbed Jon of his words, before he found his voice again and forged ahead. “Do you—I mean. Do you want to get coffee sometime?” he repeated. Shit. Shit, he was doing this, how was he already doing this? “With me?” He wanted to kick himself, of course he’d know he meant it that way. “I—my shift ends at noon today. If you’re free. I-if you want to, I mean.”

Gerard blinked at him, so utterly bewildered that it might have been funny if Jon’s heart weren’t currently climbing into his throat. “You—wait. Is this… are you asking me on a date?”

He said it so incredulously, as if the idea that Jon would ask him on a date were utterly incomprehensible to him. Rapidly, Jon’s heart sank back down.

“Yes,” Tina leapt in helpfully. “He is. Aren’t you, Jon?”

She nudged him none too gently. “Y-yes,” he said, because it wasn’t as if he could dig himself any deeper. “That—that was the intention.”

“Huh.” Gerard shrugged. “Sure.”

The whiplash made Jon dizzy for a moment. “Really?”

“Yeah. Noon, right? See you then.” With that, he turned and walked out of the library.

Once he was out of sight, Jon slumped over onto the surface of the desk like a marionette with its strings cut.

Tina patted his back. “Proud of you. Go get that goth D.”

***

It wasn’t that Gerry didn’t know it was a terrible idea—just that he’d had worse ones before. He was still breathing after years of them, in fact. So what was one more?

Jon the librarian was far from the first scarred survivor he’d ever met. They weren’t common, precisely, but nor were they unheard of. Technically he was one, and Mum had been as well, before she carved herself up.

But Gerry knew he was an outlier, and as rare as surviving one brush with the Fears was, meeting two of the things and escaping uneaten from both was on a level of its own. But against all odds, when he looked at the wispy little librarian who’d spent the past week being so divertingly helpful, Gerry could see two separate, distinct marks on him, where there had previously been only one. And they really were distinct from one another. The Flesh was like a shark sometimes, content to take one good bite before losing interest and wandering off, while the wisps of the Web still clung jealously. A scar like that could have been left years ago or the day before they met. You could never tell with the Web.

That added to the risk, of course. For all he knew, this was some ploy from the Mother of Puppets to catch him and draw him in. A little cliche, maybe, but Gerry couldn’t fault it for its efficacy.

He’d said yes, after all.

In his defense, it wasn’t every day he met someone with a nice face, a taste for burning Leitners, and enough luck or fortitude to walk away from two different Powers. Nor was it every day a person like that asked him to… well…

People didn’t flirt with him, was the thing. Anyone who knew enough to be worth talking to either wised up and ran the other way, or turned around and tried to take a chunk out of him.

So, yeah. Might as well give it a shot. See what it was like, while he had the chance.

He had til noon to brace himself, anyway. Not enough time to go back to Mum’s and freshen up, which was a shame. She’d just faded out a couple of days ago, so he knew he’d have the place to himself.

Ah, well.

In spite of himself, Gerry found himself turning his face upward with a grin and an excited spring in his step. It’d be a bit like traveling abroad, or visiting tourist traps, or all the other things he indulged in when Mum was gone. See as much of the world beyond his own as he could, before she finally fucked up and got him killed.

A date! Who’d have thought he’d get to check that one off the bucket list?

#tma fic #jongerry #jonathan sims #gerard keay #safe harbor au #tales from the pit #lady-with-a-deathwish

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swift--fox · 3 years

Text

Birthday Boy (The real birthday present)

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY sorry this is late but also not sorry because it’s your fault. Have this sequel I’ve been working on for literal ages. love you bitch hope you like it <3

P/N: Again, this has been hoarded for 2 weeks. This is also a sequelish to something I have been writing. Prompt given by this lovely person @pissbabydean. Thank you for this valentines gift I love it. Hopefully it will kick my own ass in gear to get the now prequel out soon!

——-

“Now strip so I can give you your real birthday present,”

Dean was more than happy to oblige and eagerly shrugged off his tee, wiggling out of his sweatpants awkwardly. He didn’t care how stupid he must have looked, he was too damn excited (so, sue him - he’d had a rough day).

He sucked in a shuddering breath as Cas plucked the handcuffs up from the rumpled covers and crawled over to him, fingertips trailing up his chest to his arms in a silent request. Willingly, Dean raised his arms and let Cas lean over him to cuff his wrists together, hooking the chain around one of the bedposts. He fiddled with the cuffs for a moment, his shirt hanging in front of Dean’s face, it smelled like his detergent mixed with cologne. He pressed his face into the clothed chest in front of him, inhaling the gentle pine-y scent. He more felt the inquisitive noise his boyfriend made than heard it and smiled against the soft material.

“Missed you, ‘s all. You smell good.”

Cas smiled fondly down at him and settled himself down on his legs, carefully unscrewing the pot of ink and setting it down on the nightstand. He ripped the packaging of the quill and tossed it aside haphazardly, examining the length of it under a scrutinous gaze.

“So, birthday boy. Where should I start?” Cas all but leered down at him, twirling the quill between his thumb and forefinger, the swoops of the feathered tip falling close but not quite to his side. He immediately tensed and twitched with every movement, anticipatory giggles already building up in his throat.

“I-uheh-I’unno,” He would have shrugged were he able to - his voice was soft, almost shy. Castiel reveled in it.

“No?” Cas intoned, expertly his expression shifted into one of faux-surprise. The surprisingly pointed and torturously stiff end of the feather was suddenly twirling in the shallow dip of his belly button and a very squeaky “eep!” noise flew from his mouth before he bit his lip and shook his head, squirming already.

“Trial and error it is, then.” He said resignedly. The feather traced swirls and curly-cues around the expanse of bare skin before him, barely touching, and it drove Dean closer to insanity than he really cared to be. Every movement had him jerking and twisting and twitching, torn between shying away from the barely-there sensation or arching into it, just to feel something more tangible. It was cruel, really, and Cas was talking the whole time. Muttering in his stupid teasing voice about “how about here? Hm…here? Ooh, this would be a good spot,” while assaulting said spots with the tip of that quill. Yeah. Cruel.

It was his birthday, after all. Cas had no right to be so mean. Well, he did - evidently. But it was just immoral.

“Ca-Cahahsss, it’s my bihirthday. Don’t be a dick,” He tried to keep a straight face, at least - he knew any kind of frown was out of the question. He couldn’t even do that while he complained, and he could tell Cas was just loving that.

“I suppose you’re right,” He sighed finally, flipping the quill around to curl his fingers around the sharpened shaft and dipped it primly into the pot of ink, carefully tapping the excess off on the edge. He brought it back over to Dean and tilted his head, pressing the blackened tip to the curve of his bottom most rib. Dean went rigid under him and held his breath, immediately sputtering into quiet and jumpy laughter when the tip of the quill traced words onto him - with the occasional pause for Cas to re-ink the tip. Dean was too busy chewing on his tongue and tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling to observe what exactly Cas was writing.

“There,” Cas announced with a final flourish of the quill in his hand, scraping it across his oblique, drawing a more pronounced giggle from the flushed man beneath him.

“You done?” Dean sighed in equal parts relief and disappointment. Cas raised an eyebrow and blew gently on the ink.

“Not quite. I want you to tell me three things you like about yourself. Just three.”

Dean pulled a face - at both his boyfriend’s strange and frankly embarassing task and the strange cold sensation from the ink drying.

“Aw, c’mon, Cas. I don’t wanna do that crap now.” He groaned. Cas shifted and repositioned his seat higher up, settling his weight over Dean’s thighs.

“What ‘crap’ are you referring to?”

Dean licked his lips and tugged at the handcuffs absentmindedly. Yep, he was still very much stuck. Joy.

“Y’know, that, ‘self love’ schtick, or whatever. C’monn, I’m the birthday boy, ‘member?”

“I do remember. This is part of your present, honey,” He slipped his rarely-used but extremely sappy petname in there like a damn bear trap. Dean immediately felt his face go beet red and he ducked his head as best he could. He stayed silent.

Dean could feel the self-satisfied grin on Cas’s face before he even saw it - his boyfriend reached forward to cradle his jaw and bring him in for a kiss. Far too sweet for someone who thought it was funny to torment him on his birthday.

“I’ll go first,” He offered, and there was the cold press of he inked quill to his skin again. This time it was on his flank. His muscles contacted and he clenched his fists in anticipation.

“You’re devoted. Dedicated. To your studies, your family, your friends. To me.” He said thoughtfully as he scratched something onto the quivering flesh. Dean felt his face heat up again around huffs of laughs-but-not-quite, this time even his chest must have been getting pink. He hated it when it did that.

“Loving. You love so deeply, Dean, so completely - more than anyone I’ve ever met. Did you know that?” He continued, and then there was the dull scrabbling at his waistline. That sent Dean into more desperate giggling.

“You’re a genius. A problem solver. You come up with solutions others couldn’t dream up in their life.” A word written just above his bellybutton.

Dean must have been the color of his maroon zip-up, his entire chest was doing these weird swooping flip-flops and he felt like he could cry just from the confidence that Cas spoke with.

He twirled the quill in his pen with a cocky sort of showmanship and started trailing the feather along his collarbone, sometimes flicking up to his ears or neck. Dean writhed and scrunched his shoulders up, halting snickers and bursts of laughter that sometimes sounded suspiciously like snorts were wrenched from his otherwise sealed mouth.

“Your turn,” He announced smugly. Dean huffed and craned his neck to evade the feather tip that had taken an interest at the stretch of skin under his jaw.

“I-Ihih think you juhust about covered it,”

Castiel let out a long suffering sigh and discarded the quill, taking Dean’s chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing him to make eye contact.

“Do I need to give you some extra incentive to do as I ask?” He challenged. Dean smirked and shrugged.

“Guess you’ll just have to find out,”

Oh, and regret was not something he typically felt in the setting of his or Cas’s room but now it definitely was. Maybe definitely. Shut up.

What made it worse was that he knew he had just inadvertently asked for it. He bucked and shrieked and cackled, rattling the entire bedframe with his frantic response to the devastating two-fingered drilling motions assaulting the hollows of his hips.

“Just three things, Dean. That’s all I ask.” Castiel raised his voice to be heard over the inhuman squawking he was drawing out of the other man.

“FUHUHCK FUCK MAHAHAN I C. CAHAHAN’T!” He howled, throwing his head back so hard he thought he might get whiplash. Cas relented a fraction, using just his thumb to rub circles into the bony ridges of his hips. It was still unbearable, and he was still having damn near animalistic reactions to just how badly it tickled, but at least he could hope to verbalize.

“FUH-FIHIHINE OKAHAY I GIHIHIVE.”

The fingers slowed, but didn’t stop.

“Good. Tell me,” Cas smiled at him, and it was all doting and loving and that combined with the fingers that were crawling alone the jut of his hip made his poor brain short circuit. Still, he managed to babble out an answer.

“I gueheheuss I dihid okay w-with Sammy,” Dean hiccupped. His face brightened as he retrieved the quill.

“Yes, you’re a very nurturing person.” Dean could feel the pride radiating from his terrible, awful and goddamned amazing boyfriend. Regrettably, he couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad at Cas. Damnit.

He brought the quill to scribble a word on his chest - right over his heart.

“There. What else?”

Dean groaned again and hid his face in the crook of his arm. “I don’t know, man,” He muttered defeatedly.

Fingers traced the cords of he undersides of his biceps and he squeaked, already shaking his head.

“Nonono, Cas, let’s t-CAS FFFFUCK NOHOHOHO YOUSONUVABITCHI’LLKICKYOURA- AHAHAHASS!” Loud, boisterous laughter wracked his entire body while matching claws dug into the cursedly tender flesh of his pits. He shuddered and twisted, tugging desperately at the restraints that kept him fully vulnerable to Cas’s deadly attack.

“Two more to go, Dean.” He said calmly, his tone mockingly honeyed, as if he weren’t dragging Dean within an inch of his damn life.

“FINEFINEFINE I C-I’M GOOHOOD WITH MY HANDS?”

Cas’s fingers slowed, opting instead for a light dragging of his fingertips and sometimes nails, which was entirely unfair. Giggles punched their way out from his chest, his entire body jumping with each one.

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“T-tehehlling! Definitely telling! I-I cahan fihix things up, y’knohow, build furnituhuhure,” He babbled, arms twitching and jerking under the continued assault. Cas tilted his head in thought, once again pinching that stupid quill between his evil fingers.

“That’s a good one. You are very handy.” Cas nodded, spelling out another word along his uppermost rib. Dean let out a giggle-riddled sigh while his squirming renewed and he chuckled quietly. Cas leaned down and kissed his cheek when he finished, a soft and adoring look in his eyes.

“You’re doing very well. Thank you.”

Dean huffed and pouted his lips indignantly, surging forward to catch those lips with his own. He felt Cas smile into it.

“Last one,” He whispered when he pulled away, not before kissing his chin and jaw. A single finger scritched across his lower belly and Dean bit his lip once again, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Eheh-I…I gotta greheat ass,” He grinned, eyes flashing cheekily. That dragged a laugh out of his boyfriend and he suddenly looked very disappointed he couldn’t really affirm that statement with Dean’s current state.

“That’s true, but I think we can tweak that statement a little bit. Hm…how about…” Cas trailed off and pressed a hand flat against Dean’s belly and set to work with the quill, he narrated as he wrote it out. In big letters, all the way across the center of his torso.

“Dean Winchester is beautiful, inside and out.”

Dean stared at him in open-mouthed shock. They were just words. 7 words. Hardly different from the other poetic and mushy stuff Cas had said to him. But…

“Get up here, you big sap,” Dean said hoarsely, a watery smile tugging at his lips. Cas smiled up at him, and it was the sweetest thing he thought he’d ever seen, all flashing white teeth and gums.

#submission #supernatural #ticklish!dean #Destiel #College!au #sequel #Dean cannot take compliments #so cas found other ways to prove how much dean is worth

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this-is-what-makes-us-fandoms · 4 years

Text

The One || Big Time Rush ||

Requested: hi !! i saw that you were taking requests on big time rush imagines, ( and i still hope you do ! ) so could you possibly do one where reader feels frustated that James doesn't realise that reader is ' the one ' ( as in the girl of his dreams ) that he's been looking for ?

Pairing: James Diamond x Reader

Warnings: None

Words: 1.2K

A/N: lol I was watching BTR for inspiration and then it hit so fast I got whiplash. I really like this one and its so hard to for me to write something and actually like it. But this, this is a masterpiece! So I hope you, who requested it, and everyone else like it too!

It was a knock on your door that pulled your attention away from the script you were reading over. Your eyebrows furrowed as confusion got the better of you and you wondered who was knocking at this time of night. It was nine at night and you would’ve thought most people we’re already home or at some Hollywood party. Not standing outside your door knocking frantically like the world was ending and they so desperately needed to get inside.

You set your script down on your coffee table before getting up and walking over to the door. You opened the door seeing the one and only James Diamond standing on the other side. He looked exasperated and pushed past you to come inside your apartment.

“Come right in,” You mumbled as you closed your door.

You turned around and saw him plop down on your couch, arms crossed as he huffed out in frustration. You walked back over, sitting on the couch adjacent to his. You sat quietly as you waited for him to speak but he wouldn’t until you asked what was wrong. He was a drama queen like that.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

You knew what was wrong, another date gone wrong for sure. “I am not shallow or arrogant! I am a ridiculously good looking pop star and any girl would be lucky to have me. So why doesn’t she want me?” He complained. Although that last part came out a little more soft spoken, like he was genuinely hurt.

He hunched over in defeat, this cute pout on his lips that made your heart swoon. But his words made your eyes roll as he complained about the same thing once again. Another girl who wasn’t the so dubbed one he’s been looking for. You loved your best friend, truly, but you were so tired of hearing the same thing over and over again. Especially since you could do nothing but sit there and listen. When really, all you wanted to do was yell at him for wasting his time on all those other girls when ‘the one’ he was looking for was right in front of him.

Yes, you. You were hopelessly in love with James, ever since you accidentally bumped into him in the lobby when you first arrived. Back then he immediately hit on you but you shot him down quickly. Its not like you didn’t think he was cute or anything, if it was any other time you would’ve definitely gone for it. But back then you were focusing on your acting career rather than relationships. You had moved to LA for that very purpose but also to get away from a relationship that ended badly. Which was why you weren’t so quick to jump into the next one.

But James, being James, was relentless and continued to pursue you until you drew the line. You told him about you bad relationship and asked if the two of you could just be friends. He was reluctant but agreed and now he was one of your bestest friends, along with the rest of BTR. But he was the best friend you were utterly in love with and couldn’t do anything about. Cause now, he thought of you as nothing more than a friend, just another one of the guys. He confided in you about his girl problems and you did your best to give advice, even if it broke your own heart.

“She’s right, you can be shallow and arrogant sometimes,” You started, earning a glare from him. “Hold on, let me finish. But she’s wrong to only see that. I mean, you’re sweet and funny, and you care about your friends so much that you’ll do anything for them. And if she can’t see all of that, then she’s not the one.”

“Okay but if I’m all that why I can’t I find the right one?” He whined.

Because the right one is right in front of you but you’re too much of an idiot to see that! That’s what you wanted to say but instead you opted with. “Maybe you’re just looking too hard? You can’t rush things like this, you have to let them come naturally. You can’t force the right one, you have to let her come to you.”

He groaned out in frustration, obviously that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. But it was the best thing you could say without revealing your own frustration.

“But that’s too hard! Why can’t she just show up now?” He questioned, that whiny tone still in his voice.

You hadn’t meant to explode, you really hadn’t, but you couldn’t deal with his incessant whining anymore.

“Oh my god, you freaking idiot! If you just opened your eyes you would see that your one has been in front of you this whole time. Me! God, why can’t you see how in love with you I am? But no, instead you complain about how Jessica wasn’t the one, or how Amber didn’t have—“ You didn’t get to finish because something shut you up.

Or rather someone. James’s lips were pressed against yours in a sweet, soft kiss. Once you understood what was happening, you were quick to kiss back. Lips moving slowly against his as sparks flew and butterflies fluttered in your stomach. James pulled away first, lips making a soft smacking sound as he did. You were left completely speechless and it took you a few seconds to compose yourself.

“Wow, that was exactly how I imagined it,” He spoke up surprising you.

You leaned back in shock, he had imagined your first kiss together? “W-Wait...what? I-I didn’t think you liked me, at least not like that anymore.”

“Are you joking? I’ve practically been in love with you since you walked into the Palm Woods. But then you said you just wanted to be friends and then you became my best friend. I didn’t want to ruin that by telling you how I felt. And I was willing to be just friends if it meant being near you,” He explained.

Your heart melted at his words and you couldn’t help how your heart thumped against your chest. “I guess we were both being idiots. But when you started talking about all those girls, I thought we were nothing but friends.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I just thought that if I went out with all those girls, one of them would take my mind off of you. But instead I found myself comparing them all to you. So yeah, guess we both were being idiots,” He told you. “But now that we both know how we feel about each other, how about I take you out on a date?”

“I’d very much like that. And for now, we can make up for lost time,” You replied.

He grinned widely and nodded before leaning in to kiss you once again. You wasted no time in kissing back and let him push you down onto your couch.

#oneshots #oneshot #one shots #one shot #big time rush #big time rush one shots #big time rush one shot #big time rush imagines #big time rush imagine #james diamond #james diamond one shots #james diamond one shot #james diamond imagines #james diamond imagine #james diamond x reader #james x reader

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melonkooky · 4 years

Text

bts reaction - taking their s/o’s makeup off while they’re asleep

requested

genre: members x reader, fluff

author’s note: i know the person who requested this has been waiting patiently and i’m really sorry this took so long. i hope it’s what you were expecting. i hope it’s fluffy enough, i kinda rushed it because i knew i’d be writing too much for each reaction. also, they just progressively get longer after seokjin, so sorry about that lol

please do not copy my work. but please like and reblog it. thank you!!!!

kim seokjin

you had a very long day at work, probably the worst day of work you have ever experienced. it had long been dark outside by the time you got home. by then, your energy was almost diminished. but you were hungry so you made yourself easy at home ramen. then you made your way over to the couch where you set down your ramen on the coffee table in order for it to cool down. you made the mistake of getting comfortable because it wasn’t long before you fell asleep, ramen left to cool.

your lovely boyfriend, also as tired from his day of work, walked in moments later. he almost screamed at the sight of a sleeping figure on the couch, he had expected you to be in bed. he walked over to you after setting his things down. he noticed the ramen and smiled, it was untouched. seokjin then noticed that you were still in your work attire, and there was makeup still on your face. the least he could do was take it off. so he acquired all of your makeup remover materials and as gently as he could, took off everything and tried to clean your face. you didn’t wake up. you must’ve had a long day, he thought. so he tried his best to get you ready for bed.

min yoongi

yoongi had been on tour for some time now, and you were dying to see him. you felt so yoongi deprived that you found yourself asking his fellow members if you were allowed to fly over to wherever they were currently touring in and surprise yoongi. of course they helped you out, they ever asked the manager. before you knew it, you were on a flight to another country. it was a late flight, however, to accommodate your own schedule. you were nervous because you’ve never been out of the country before, and you hardly knew the language.

you landed and a bighit assistant staff drove you to the hotel where the boys were waiting. they told you yoongi was clueless and they thought that he seemed to be missing you (of course he was hiding it). so you popped into his hotel room, practically jumping onto his bed. he was shocked and happy, his face becoming red and smiling widely. hours passed of talking and soon it was almost two in the morning. you were falling asleep within seconds, and yoongi was holding you. but you were hardly ready for bed. yoongi grinned at how cute you looked before reaching into you bag and pulling out your makeup supplies. with a hand on your waist, he cleaned your makeup off. once your skin was clean, he turned off the light and fell asleep himself.

jung hoseok

after being busy with personal schedules, hoseok walked into your shared home one night and announced that tomorrow you and him would be spending the entire day together. he hugged you and peppered kisses, telling you that he was ready to spend all his money on you, jokingly of course.

the day came and sure enough you and hoseok were heading out to breakfast. you honestly missed your bright ray of sunshine, you needed this day with him. then you and him did, indeed, go shopping, but it was more like shopping for hoseok because he claimed he wanted new clothes (and you and him left the store with a few matching outfits). then you and him walked around the city. afterwards came lunch, and then an aquarium, and then you and him went home. you felt bad for how much hoseok spent, but then again, did it even make a dent in his wallet? (please don’t come for me, issa joke). it wasn’t long before you crashed on the couch, worn out from the day. hoseok felt exhausted too, but he felt that he should get you ready for bed. he ended up taking your makeup first, worried he’d wake up. but when he saw how you hardly stirred, he ended up placing kisses every time he cleaned something off. he then spent a hot minute admiring the love of his life…before falling asleep next to you.

kim namjoon

namjoon had been in the studio majority of his day. he was hard at work on his next piece of work, his next project. he wasn’t complaining though, this was after all his dream. but after an entire day, his lower back was beginning to ache. his stomach was rumbling as well. he wondered what the other members were up to. he didn’t know if they were practicing or at home, today had been a free day. then he pondered about what you were doing. you had to be off of work by now.

then, as if on cue, there was a knock and you popped your head inside. he immediately took notice of the drained look, like your energy had been depleted, but then he saw the plastic bag with the logo of his favorite restaurant on it. his heart melted, and namjoon did not waste single moment to stand up and hug you. an angel… you and him ate and talked about your guys’ day, then agreed that you both needed to sleep.

after arriving home, however, you made it to the bed, making namjoon laugh, as you still had your work clothes and makeup on. he said he’d hurry in the shower, but when he came out, you were passed out. he laughed quietly, wondering if he should take a photo to laugh at it later. but then he opted to help you. he knelt down by the side of your bed, brushing all stray hairs away, and became taking your makeup off. he kissed your cheek before laying next to you to fall asleep alongside of you.

park jimin

you had spent the day with jimin and his band members. spring had arrived and the weather was getting warmer and summer events and parks and things were opening their doors once again. what a better way than to spend the day at the amusement park. you went on a lot of rides, many of which were very scary (you probably got mild whiplash in your neck after that last one), and lots of funny videos and pictures. very unhealthy food was eaten as well, and before you knew it, jimin’s good friend (soulmate) pointed out the sunset and asked for a group picture before leaving the park. the picture turned out great.

then everyone was driven home, two cars were needed. jimin and you were with seokjin who had pulled up to your apartment. when jimin was about to get out, he saw that you were asleep, your head hanging forward slightly. he gently helped you out of the car, holding you close to his chest and said goodbye to jin. then he carried you up to the apartment.

he laid you on the bed, kissing your head, before getting ready for bed. he first, however, needed to take off your makeup. that was unhealthy to leave on your skin, and you were asleep, and jimin just wanted to help you out. so he did, and when he finished he gently laid a blanket over you before ordering takeout. you were going to be hungry after your nap…

kim taehyung

you and taehyung decided to find a good spot to do a photoshoot. the scenery was very green and already full of life. it was spring. and weather was warm and you couldn’t wait to spend the day outside. you and taehyung dressed as fashionable as possible (check out the fit) and you did your best makeup, matching it with the fit, before heading out. taehyung went first, and of course every time you took a picture you’d blush. this man was so photogenic… then you went, taehyung complimenting you a lot. some selfies were taken and some goofy pictures for personal uses were taken, like you and taehyung jumping during a timed one, or pretending to tango.

then you and your boyfriend headed home. it was only a little after noon, but your eyes were feeling droopy and heavy. taehyung went to upload the pictures onto the computer, and while he was gone, you decided to take a nap on the couch. when taehyung came out an hour later to ask if you were hungry, he noticed you were sleeping. he took some pictures before coming over, noticing you still had makeup on. he brought out you things and began taking it off. he had to force himself to laugh quietly when he did your eyes and you didn’t even wake up. when you woke up later to the smell of food, of course taehyung teased you about it.

jeon jungkook

you landed a role in bts’ next music video. you were a solo dancer for most of the shots. jungkook had helped you get this role of course, he was your boyfriend, and he knew that he would get to dance with you near the end of the music video. he watched you proudly during your solo shoots, sometimes excitedly punching the member next to him (and fanboying quietly). then when it came time for you and him to dance together, he was at his happiest. as night approached, however, he and the members still had to do a few things. you were finished so you headed to the dressing rooms, spotting a couch.

you changed into your regular clothes before going on your phone, waiting for them to finish. but you found yourself falling asleep. time went by before the boys finished and everyone began to pack up for the night. the members laughed to find you asleep on the couch. jungkook tried to wake up, but you were exhausted. as everyone started to clean, he decided to take off your makeup knowing that if you (or him) didn’t do it now, it wasn’t coming off til the morning, and that was bad for your skin. so he gently took off the makeup, getting teased by the members in the process, but he knew he was helping you. then he snuck a kiss to your cheek before waking you, telling you that you and him were finally going home.

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs “Teenagers.”

Hello everyone, sorry for vanishing for a few days, but now I am back and ready to write.

I would ask for any prompts or ideas you guys have for stories. Sometimes I go through times where I can't think of any ideas, and this is one of those times. Your help is appreciated

Somewhere between Mars and the asteroid belt

The Delta-5 passenger transport had fallen out of warp rather violently. Granted, with a delta class warp engine she could only make jumps inside the solar system, but at any range, coming out of a warp unexpectedly is violent.

The brightly painted yellow of the passenger ship was a streak in the darkness for a single moment before the emergency engines kicked in and pulled her to an abrupt halt. Inside, the ship was filled with startled screams and cries of pain, from the twenty person class of Martian students on a return trip from the asteroid belt.

Not all schools have the funding for their own spaceship, mind you, but as one of the most prestigious boarding schools on the solar system, there were some perks. However, violent whiplash wasn’t appearing to be one of those perks, and in the commotion, no one noticed as a lone student silently slipped back to their seat, handily concealing a shiny silver object in the pocket of her pants.

A distress signal followed the sudden loss of warp, and it was almost an hour that the students sat there before a call of awe came out from the back of the ship, and all the students piled together to see out the cramped side windows at the massive military warship bearing down on them from above. She was massive, almost the size of two football fields from end but reaching skyward. It’s rear engines glowed with blue power as it gently slid next to them despite it’s cumbersome bulk.

A single line of white lettering could just be seen at the spine of the ship reading

U.N.S.S Harbinger.

***

Krill and Sunny accompanied Commander Vir from the bridge, arriving in the docking bay just as the small, yellow passenger transport was pulled in from the airlock and gently dropped onto the deck. Once secured, the doors were opened.

As Krill and Sunny stood next to the commander, they couldn’t help but notice his uncharacteristic lack of good humor.. In the light of the docking bay his arms were crossed, his mouth had been pulled into a deep brown, and his single eye was narrowed with distrust at the little yellow ship.

The doors were opened, and the students came spilling out. Krill didn’t have much experience with this sort of human…. Teenagers. Physically, they had smoother faces, and the males and appeared skinnier with reduced muscle tone, but other than that, he wasn’t likely to be able to tell the difference.

“Look at them.” The Commander muttered under his breath, “Little Vultures.”

Krill and Sunny exchanged a confused look, and rill ventured a question, “I’m sorry Commander, but I…. don’t follow.”

The Commander’s expression remained dark, “Behold my inhuman friends, the worst kind of human, the bane of earth, the very incarnation of Evil itself. They have the magic ability to pinpoint whatever insecurities you have and used it in psychological warfare against you.”

Krill and Sunny turned to watch the humans. Some huddled together in small groups, others standing alone shoulders hunched looking down at the floor, and still others gazing around the docking bay in wonderous amazement

“Sure…. Commander…… Evil.” Sunny said watching two of the humans hug each other, in a clear attempt to find comfort, “I’m shaking.”

The commander glowered at her, and then turned on his heel to march towards the line of humans.

Sunny chirped an approximation of a laugh, “Wait, hold on commander, my knees are weak, I can’t keep up.”

He continued to ignore her as he marched up to the line of students. Of course, with the clanking of his mechanical leg, they noticed him coming long before he made it, and as they strolled up, Krill couldn't help but notice as a group of them broke out into a fit of giggling as they watched the commander approach, a fact that was not lost one the man, not that the students would have been able to tell.

However, Sunny and Krill knew him well enough to see the stiffening of his back , and the slight redness at the base of his neck, “Alright, the lot of you, quiet down.” His voice was loud enough, and commanding enough to get partial attention, but even as they looked at him, there was still ore snickering, giggling, and students checking their personal devices. A couple of them continued to whisper quietly in the back of the group. Of course quietly actually meant one grade below a normal voice.

Sunny was able to pick out the word “eyepatch.” from the conversation.

The Commander’s frown grew deeper, and he turned to Sunny.

She was happy to oblige the request, quickly clearing her throat, and then releasing a screeching battle cry that made the walls and floors rattle.

That got their attention.

“About time you all shut the hell up.” He growled. Sunny shifted uncomfortably not entirely sure what had gotten into the commander.

Krill watched the students, and quickly became aware that many of them only had one default setting, and that was the continuous rolling of their eyes, often accompanied with a deep sigh.

“Now, I find it very unfortunate that your ship broke down, mostly because now I have to babysit you, which I would rather not do. But here we are, and there are a few ground rules you need to follow.”

More eye rolling, which was not lost on the captain.

He turned his eye on one of the worst offenders, “Go on, roll your eyes again, see what happens.” The stare the commander gave him could have coagulated blood, and the student looked away as his classmates snickered, “That a bunch of disrespectful bullshit, and they don’t pay me to tolerate it. If you want to be a little shit while I explain life-saving rules to you, than I won’t feel bad when you wander somewhere you shouldn't and radiation causes all your skin to deglove. Yes, that is exactly what it sounds like….. am …. I ... clear?”

The group of them nodded rather slowly, and Krill noticed a couple of eyes twitch. A couple others looked back and forth between each other exchanging looks.

“I am Commander Vir, and this is the UNSS Harbinger, this is my weapons specialist Sunny, and my chief medical officer Krill. I am in charge of the ship, and while you are on board, you will follow my orders just like any member of my crew. I will not tolerate shenanigans, whining, complaining, arguing, and any other accompanying bullshit that you may be likely to bring aboard my ship.”

He turned his head in another wide circle making eye contact with each and every one of them.

As his eyes passed over a group of the students, Krill watched them burst into another fit of giggling turning to look at each other.

The single eye snapped around to glower at them, “Something Funny!” He demanded

The girl in question went bright red and then stammered out a, “N… no.”

More giggling erupted from somewhere in the back.

The commander didn’t look pleased. A rope that was already beginning to fray snapped, “Alright, that’s it, the brig, the lot of you.”

A gasp rose up from the students, and the teacher as she protested.

The commander turned, “If you cannot take the rules seriously than you go exactly where you belong. The brig. You may leave when we reach Mars.”

Sunny and Krill exchanged a glance as the commander stormed off.

“Changeling, brain injury, or mind control.” Sunny wondered

Krill shrugged, “Search me.

No one noticed a form slipping away quietly as the rest of the students were shepherds away.

***

Sunny and krill sat quietly in the darkness of the bridge watching their friend, as he leaned against the upper platform railing glowering out at the field of stars, and the small red dot that was Mars.

He had been like this all evening sullen and silent withdrawn into himself.

Sunny noticed the figure in the doorway before krill, and quietly stood not recognizing the figure.

“I thought I sent you all to the brig.” The commander said, his voice echoed eerily in the darkness. As far as either of them had seen, the commander hadn't turned to look, so there was no way he could have known who was at the door. The figure paused, and then deciding against running stepped into the room.

It was one of the teenagers.

She was somewhat muscular for her size with short dark hair colored half purple. She had a squarish jaw and long legs despite being well over half a foot shorter than the commander.

She did not appear bothered that she had been caught.

Wandering inwards, she paused next to the captain’s chair, and then in a shocking breach of decorum, she took a seat throwing her legs over one of the arms.

Krill was pretty sure “teenagers” had no sense of personal safety.

Commander Vir turned slowly to face her frowning eyes narrowed.

She locked eyes with him blowing a large pink bubble which popped loudly in the intervening silence.

“Get out of my chair.”

Another bubble, “Why.”

“Because if you don’t I'm going to rip off your arm and beat you with it.” To her credit, she withstood his gaze for longer than your average person might half before finally signing and sliding form the seat and onto the floor. The commander watched her go, as she crossed the ten feet to the navigators chair and made herself comfortable there.

It was the Commander’s turn for a deep sigh.

Krill and Sunny watched in fascination. Like watching a puppy chew on the tail of a wolf.

The commander glowered at her, and she glowered back.

He looked about to say something but was cut off as the student opened her mouth, “Why do you hate teenagers so much?”

That caught the commander off guard, and whatever he had been planning to say died on his lips.

“I mean I saw you once or twice on the TV, and you usually aren't this much of an asshole, so you must hate teenagers.”

silence .

“Where you bullied in school. Because I-”

He cut her off, “You think you’re edgy don’t you.” It was her turn to be cut off, “Let me guess edgy teenager with some sort of tragic backstory. Maybe mommy is dead, maybe daddy is mean perhaps they are both fine, but they don’t pay attention to you, and so you act out, pretend like you don’t care about anything try to look edgy so you can be different because no one understands you or something, right.”

“Don’t pretend-”

“Don’t pretend to know you, want to know something kid- I WAS you, and let me give you a little secret.” He leaned in, “You aren’t special, your problems aren't personal. You are exactly like every other kid in there who thinks no one understands them and their problems are special and that the world is unfair, well guess what your problems aren't special, of course the world is unfair, but it’s unfair to everyone. So quit the edgy bullshit because it doesn’t make you cool it makes you an asshole.”

She remained quiet. Krill and Sunny looked on in fascination. Some of the wind seemed to have been taken out of her sails, but she remained quiet, “My turn?” She asked

“Go ahead, I would like to hear it.”

“You aren’t special either, lots of people were bullied as kids difference is not all of us grow up to be successful. So you don’t even have anything to be mad about.”

He took a seat in the captain’s chair to look at her, “I’m under no illusion that I’m special. I am also under no illusion that I try to be different, just like you. Difference is, I can admit what I’m doing. I’m just like everyone else, a normal guy who got lucky and am now in a place to do something good for once. As for the difference between you and I, I NEVER ruined public property to get what I want. What did you do cut the power outlet to the fusion cables.”

She was quiet.

“It’s either tell me or face jail time, you’re call.”

She sighed and leaned her head back on the seat, “I just….. Wanted to see your ship, ok.” There was silence in the room, “Yeah, I get it was stupid, but my life isn’t likely to go anywhere, but i saw my chance and I took it to at least SEE my dream, and maybe get lucky enough to meet you, but low and behold, I get aboard the ship, and my hero turns out to be a masive Dick, so i guess we both lose.”

There was silence.

Turning to look at Sunny Krill found an expression of shock on her face eyes wide mouth slightly open. She hadn’t gotten up from her seat.

His voice had softened, and Krill watched as the look of anger melted from his face replaced with some mix of shame, “I….. what makes you think your life is going nowhere.”

She kicked her feet, “I’m not exactly good at the whole school thing.”

The commander shrugged, “So what, join the UNSC, and then you can see space all you want, that’s what I did.”

She shook her head, “No can do chief, I’m sick, they wouldn’t take me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Maybe they won’t let you join the marines, but a support position is fine. As far as medical equipment, we practically live in a flying hospital, so whatever you need could be done for you on a ship.” He got up from his chair and stopped to stand next to her staring out at the darkness. With a sigh, his shoulders slumped, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I had a bad time in school and I’m taking it out on you and the others…. It’s not very adult of me…. Or very professional for that matter.”

She waved a hand, “Its ok most of them belong in the brig anyway.”

He gave a dry chuckle, “Even so, I should probably go apologize.”

“Wow, not every day I meet an adult who can admit when they’re wrong.”

Commander Vir turned towards the door, “Yeah, if you’re going to join kid, you need to get rid of that hatred for authority complex. Most of us are just doing our jobs and occasionally…. We actually care.”

I wouldn’t go as far as the commander and say that teenagers are the incarnation of evil, but I would, perhaps, suggest that they are the incarnation of the devil’s advocate. They have questions queries and demands that are designed to challenge older humans. If the exchange is met correctly, both will learn something. The younger will gain knowledge from the older, and the older might just understand their own reasoning better than they had before, or even identify issues with their own logic.

If the exchange goes wrong there will only be anger and enmity between the two parties. Young humans need a lot of direction, but they also need the ability to choose their own path. It is an older human’s duty to impart the knowledge allowing the younger human to make the best decisions, without trying to control them.

However, Despite the philosophy, I think there is some argument that can be made for the devil incarnate….

#humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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xxxtrouvaillexxx · 4 years

Text

Paper Cranes

A/N: I swear that I’m working on the first chapter of LSaD, I plan to have it out by THIS Saturday! I promise that it’s coming! In the mean time, I’ve been working on this piece for a hot minute and it’s kind of just been sitting around in my drafts and in the back of my head. So~ while you wait, here is a little something something to keep the waters calm. And I needed a little something to deal with quarantine.

Pair: Bucky x Reader (platonic)

Synopsis: Y/N is an empath... More specifically, a healer with empathic abilities, which leads to from very severe trauma for y/n but you’d never stop helping your team for the world. Even when that trauma leads you to spend a night on to roof in tears and a very heated talk with your best friend Bucky.

Masterlist

Warning(s): angst (I’m a sucker for it...), an alarming amount of fluff, as usual.

Word Count: 3,931

The Tower has been bustling with life ever since the city closed down, or more aptly, the world as it seems. Every single one of the Avengers, other than Barton himself, was closed up in the same building for the last three weeks, and the air was becoming more restless every day. And the more anxious it became inside of these walls, the world was still doing worse for wear.

You, feeling all of that, felt all of your own worries too. Not that you let anyone in on that little fact. You’re the personal on-site doctor to the Avengers along with being one of the hero’s themselves, though you had no real special power to name in the ways of fighting. You simply were rather good at kicking bad guy butt and were a rather well-known assassin with the Black Widow herself.

And though the two of you are as close as sisters, she doesn’t even know about your ability.

“Lady Y/N!”

You whipped your head around so quickly at Thor’s booming voice, you could have sworn that you’d given yourself whiplash, but you managed to give the large man a large grin and match his excitement.

“Thor!”

Laughing, he scooped you up and off of the floor in a tight hug as if you were light as a feather. If there was anyone who, throughout the entire time of being shut up in a building with the worlds most lovably irritating heros, could keep spirits high, it was Thor. The man was like a giant teddy bear, to be frank. You could swear that the only time you ever see him get intensely serious about an issue is during a mission, and it surely wasn’t anything you were going to start complaining about now.

Letting you down again to stand on your own feet, he grinned widely and with mischief.

“I require a bit of aid, I’m afraid. Sparring with the two super soldiers seems to be only a tad bit more interesting without the use of powers.”

“Don’t let him fool you, doll. We pummeled him and he doesn’t want to admit it,” Bucky said from the doorway. Steve was coming up from behind him with a smile too.

“Well, it seems you boys have had an eventful morning then.” The humor was obvious in your voice and they all laughed, Thor of course boomed.

“Indeed!”

“Well, how can I assist you three then?”

“Just Thor today, actually. He thought it would be funny to go easy on us old geezers. Lessons learned,” Steve said grinning as he passed you with a pat on the shoulder to the kitchen.

Thor after, another, belly full of laughter, showed you the bruises that now littered his arms and torso. There were no major wounds, and it looked like it was just hand to hand sparring, though if it were anyone other than Thor the damage would have been far worse coming from the two super soldiers.

Shaking your head, you smiled and pointed him to the couch. “You might as well get comfortable while we do this. You’ve got enough bruises to keep me busy for a week,” you joked and sat down beside him. “You know the drill, eyes closed and deep breaths.”

He followed your orders without complaint and you rested your hands against his chest first and matched your breathing to his and felt the steady stream of power flow through you. It was light, airy and cool, shining a beautiful gold from your fingertips in waves. But as gorgeous as it looked, this amazing power to heal the injured was a double-edged blade.

As soon as the marks on his skin began to fade and return to its normal color, images of their match flashed in your mind. Every punch and kick that Thor received felt like a blow of your own. Needless to say, you figured it hurt a lot more for you than it had for the god in front of you. Even if you knew that you didn’t physically attain any of the damage, it didn’t dull the sharp pains that coursed through your body.

The reason you always made them close their eyes before healing them of anything, an illness, battle wounds, haunting dreams, or trauma, was because it was easier than trying to force down every wince and grimace. Sometimes it just seemed impossible, which is also the reason you tried to keep healing sessions like this to more personal settings, not that that was always possible.

After a few measured deep breaths to match with Thor’s, you moved onto his arms and repeated the process. It didn’t take long, and by the time you were finished the sharp pains had faded into something of a dull throbbing. Though you didn’t imagine that would stop anytime soon.

“I feel like a brand new man! Thank you, Lady Y/N!” He grinned and launched himself into another suffocating hug before turning to the men in the kitchen. “I will remember to not pull my punches with you two the next time around!”

“We’ll look forward to your next challenge then. But don’t go crying to Y/N next time you get your ass handed to you,” Bucky hollered back.

“Hey! Language!” You exclaimed with a laugh when you heard Steve grumble and say something about needing to forget that moment ever happened… Not that any of you ever would, of course.

You all sat around for a while before Steve went off to speak with Tony about something or another and Thor decided to find and pester his brother. ‘Which I’m sure I’ll have the pleasure to hear about later from Loki himself’, you thought with a chuckle. And soon enough it was just you and Bucky left in the kitchen sharing a peaceful silence and tea for several minutes.

The two of you had grown particularly close over the time since he’s come to the tower and in Wakanda. He was one of your closest friends next to Natasha. Because of that, you took extra care of him not that you’d ever tell him that. You took extra time with him in the evenings and during routine checkups to help him with his nightmares and the general horrors his mind puts him through. You’d be sure to brush your hand across his skin periodically throughout the day subtly to draw out any built up worries and anxieties and he usually stayed pretty close by when he was feeling extra tense.

Of course, there was a part of you that dreaded his checkups and the late nights. Not because that you didn’t want to help him, but the pain that it caused you was sometimes almost to much for you to handle. His memories that flooded through your mind when you touched, the phantom pains you’d feel... You couldn’t understand how anybody could ever do something so absolutely horrible, least of all to another human being. And it was almost incomprehensible how Bucky had managed to survive so long after all of it, but you had managed to tie that to the fact that he was the strongest man you knew.

But no matter how much you may dread those visits and the things that followed, you would never stop helping him. And you would never tell him the truth about your power. You doubted that he’d ever let you continue if he knew what it did.

“I think everyone is going out for joyride tonight, you plan on joining?” He interrupted your thoughts with a warm voice and kind smile.

“Not likely. I think I’ll just take the evening for myself. If everyone goes out, it might actually be quite around here for a change,” you chuckled. “What about you?”

“I haven’t decided yet, but Steve is trying pretty hard to get me out this time around.”

“So, probably then?”

He laughed and nodded, “Yeah, probably.”

“Where do they plan on going, anyway? Everything is shut down right now, so there isn’t much to do,” you asked. And it was true, with a global pandemic going around, everything was basically closed down until further notice everywhere.

He shrugged and looked to the ceiling, “Who knows. Stark thought it would be a good idea to get the quinjets out and running before they sit around to long and need a toon up. And he thought it would be good for moral if we weren’t all cooped up in the tower again for another night together.”

You guffawed and shook your head. “Oh? And having everyone cooped up in the jets is going to be so much better for team moral, huh? Tell me how that works out for him.”

»»-———————-««

It was roughly 11:30 now, and everyone was still out of the tower and flying around Lord knows where and you were in the tower alone. It had been nearly two months since these halls last ran silent except for the sound of your own footsteps. Nearly two months sinces you could freely express all of the pent up rage, and fear, and pain, and anxiety that has been building up inside of yourself.

On most if not all occasions, you were a very happy person. You enjoyed your work and the people you work with. You loved your family and friends, and the world even with all of its problems... And there were a lot of problems. And normally it would just be enough to spend a day to yourself with a book or a blank canvas and paint to release everything. You tried to always look toward the brighter side of things, but recently- without a way to vent out everything you’ve been taking in, things were to much.

So you found yourself up on the towers roof at almost midnight with tears running down your cheeks and finding it hard to catch your breath. Your chest ached. The instant that the door closed behind you and you were hit with the cool night air it was like everything just rushed out in waves.

You screamed, and wailed, and cried. You let yourself feel everything that you had been burying. Every last punch, kicks, knife and bullet, nightmare. It all came out in coughs and harsh please and grief. For yourself and for the people who went through it all.

“It’s not fair,” you cried. “It’s not fair!”

After what felt like an eternity and your throat was coarse from the yelling and sobs, you felt like there was nothing left to cry. You’d gotten it all out and let go of everything, finally. And you knew you would be able to face everyone tomorrow as yourself rather than the shell of a person you have been until now.

What you didn’t know, was that Bucky was there to witness it all.

»»-———————-««

When you woke up the next morning you felt a great deal better than you had the previous night. Let alone the previous week. In a rather bright mood, you woke early and decided to make breakfast, nothing special because let’s be frank- you weren’t any Gordon Ramsey. But you could make a mean stack of pancakes and eggs.

An hour later, the kitchen was flooded with tired heros and grumbled good mornings. Though you were aware that Bucky seemed to linger in the doorway a little to long and continued to stare at you throughout breakfast. You could practically feel the discomfort and tension poor off of him. He didn’t mention it though so you assumed he wasn’t ready to come to you yet.

It wasn’t uncommon for Bucky to try and handle himself first, be it a nightmare or his own thoughts he tried to take care of it first. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not. But you never wanted to try and take that chance from him, so you let him be until he decided for himself.

They all happily ate their share of pancakes, gave thanks in some form or another; hugs, verbally, a slug to the shoulder, the usual. And then everyone dispersed to go about their own day.

By the time that a week went by, you started to become genuinely concerned about Bucky. He was still tense and sticking close to you, but he wouldn’t let himself get close enough for you to touch him and draw out whatever it was that was causing him to be so worried. But he never left your side either. Everytime you left a room, a few minutes later he would follow. It was becoming so apparent that even Natasha said something over dinner, but Bucky didn’t bother to respond.

You didn’t want to take away the option of helping himself if he felt like he could, but he’s never gone longer than two days before saying something to you. It started to make you wonder if you had done something wrong or if he really felt like he didn’t need your help anymore.

Either way, you had to figure it out. The worry was beginning to choke you if you thought about it for to long. So after dinner, you excused yourself from the table and waited in the hall for Bucky to follow.

Sure enough, after a minute he started down the hall too searching for which way you disappeared to.

You showed yourself to him and ignored his apparent surprise, “Are you okay, Bucky? Did something happen?”

His face changed, he looked hurt and sad. Like he couldn’t really bring himself to say anything or absorb what you asked. You waited patiently while he grapled for an answer.

“What?” Was all that he managed to get out.

“Well, you’ve been following me around a lot recently, and you only really stick to my side like this when you need to talk or help with something. But it’s already been a week and you haven’t said anything yet so I was starting to get worried that it was worse than usual or that maybe I did something wrong or that you-”

“That’s supposed to be my line!” He exclaimed, efficiently cutting off my nervous rant and giving me a turn at being confused.

It must of been written all over your face because he quickly continued, “I was there. I saw- I heard you last week on the rooftop! How can you possibly be asking me if I’m alright!?”

Your heart stuttered to a stop at his words and you could practically feel the blood draining from your face. You didn’t even know where begin to explain why or what happened last week.

“Oh...” you trailed off and stepped back. “I didn’t know you were still here. I thought you went with Steve,” you have a humorless chuckle. “I don’t know why you’re so worried about it, I’m alright. Can we just forget about it?”

You knew it was a pathetic attempt to get him to let the problem go, you knew that there was no chance he was going to now that he’s been thinking about it for a week.

“You were begging out there, Y/N. Begging! You can’t just tell me you’re alright and expect me to just let it go like this is nothing!”

You were silent for a long time, taking deep and long breaths to keep yourself calm before taking the corner of his sleeve and dragging him to your room. “We should go somewhere private so we can talk freely.”

He followed you without question.

»»-———————-««

The two of you sat silently for nearly half an hour in your room. You felt completely uncomfortable in the situation. Usually, you were the one who was patiently waiting and comforting someone else while they thought over what they wanted to share or compose themselves. You were used to that, but being on the opposite end of that was new and something you came to learn within the first five minutes that you weren’t particularly fond of.

Finally, Bucky decided to break the silence. “Why do you have so many origami cranes hangin’ in here?”

Your room decor was a bit unconventional, compared to that of everyone else in the tower that is. The room was covered in your own oil paintings, all the ones you deemed should never see the light of day but didn’t get rid of, couches and chairs, bookcases, and of course, countless bunches of paper cranes you’ve hung from the ceiling. Unconventional, maybe. But you loved it anyway.

“There is a myth,” you nearly whispered it but you were sure that he caught the words anyway when he turned toward you.

“Tell me about it?”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “It’s an old Japanese legend. It says that anybody who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish by the gods. Some of the old stories even say that you are granted happiness and eternal good luck instead of a wish. But you can use the wish on anything, a recovery to illness or injury for example. Usually they’re made as gifts for special friends or family.”

Standing, you grabbed one of the many strings of cranes and gave it to Bucky. “Cranes in Japan are considered holy creatures and supposedly live for a thousand years. That’s why a thousand cranes are made, one for each year of their life. And there are some stories that even say that all have to be folded within a year and strung together on the same string by the one who is making the wish for it to actually work.” You drifted off and smiled at the strand he held and shrugged.

He stared at you for awhile before he looked around your room again. “All of them are stung on one sting.”

“So the legend goes,” you answered.

“But you have at least a hundred of these hanging around your room,” he awed and shook the his gently.

“53 to be exact. There are 53,142 cranes in this room. I’m working on another one now,” you laughed as his face grew in een more amazement.

The strands all hung next to each other. Currently you had two rows of 25 and one of three. Honestly, it was rather beautiful in your opinion. It created a sort of curtain on one of your walls filled with different colors and stories.

“Why?” He asked softly.

“Because I have a lot of wishes?”

“No. Don’t dodge. You wouldn’t have gone through all of this effort,” he waved toward the curtain, “for yourself alone. So why? How long have you been doing this for?”

“Nearly 15 years? I usually try to fold 10 every night before I go to sleep. You would be disgusted by how much I spend on paper,” you joked but he didn’t break. You groaned, “Fine! It’s because I didn’t know what else to do, okay? People were sad and hurting and scared, I felt it, and I didn’t know what I felt like there wasn’t anything I could do to help them. And so I started to make wishes for strangers mostly, people I felt needed it.”

“Felt?”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded hesitantly. “Or saw depending on the person. And it’s not like I’d ever do it on purpose, I’d just bump into someone and see everything! And I wouldn’t be able get it out of my head. I felt like there wasn’t anything I could do, Bucky. So I wished and wished and wished for them. For everyone.”

He looked at you incredulously, “Y/N... What do you mean, “See everything”?”

You blinked rapidly a few times and grabbed three more of the strands from the wall. “These,” you handed them to him, “are yours. These are the wishes I made for you. And before you say anything, just... Don’t freak out, okay? I didn’t make all of those to upset you, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I’m a healer, that’s always been who I am. But for me to be able to use that gift, I have to make physical contact with my patient. And I’ve been blessed to be able to mend body and mind! There isn’t anything in the world that would make me want to give up that gift, Bucky. But when I... touch people- anyone, Wanda, Nat, Thor, a stranger... You- I can see exactly how they got hurt mentally or physically. And I can feel the hurt too, like it were my own.”

You could barely bring yourself to say that last part, and it was barely a murmur as it were, but you knew that he heard it by the way that the color drained from his face and he slouched back a bit.

“Bucky,” you reached out for him but stopped when he flinched away from you. You swallowed harshly and continued, “I don’t hate it Bucky. I prefer it this way, really! It makes it easier for me to understand who I’m helping and more than anything else it brings me closer to them. I’m okay, Bucky.”

“Stop telling me that you’re okay! How could you possibly be after-” he paled more if that were possible as he looked at the four rows of cranes he carried now, “Oh my God. Four years, you’ve seen everyth- You’ve felt everything for four years! Y/N, I-”

“Don’t you dare try to apologise or regret coming to me, James,” you interrupted in a hurry. “If I can breathe then I’m fine. And I will never regret helping you when you needed me. You’ve never done anything wrong. And what you saw last week wasn’t usually how I deal with... Well, everything that gets piled up. Usually I go out for a day to breathe and just let go. It’s just that with everything closed down right now, I hadn’t had the opportunity in months. It got to much, that’s all. It had nothing to do with you, I promise.”

Everything you said seemed to go in one ear and out the other with him. He simply grasped the cranes tighter and refused to make eye contact.

“Bucky,” you whispered again and reached for him one more time and this time, he didn’t turn away. His wave of emotions hit you hard, there were to flashes of images or memories, just feelings of regret and horror and shame and fear. “It’s okay,” you breathed and raised to give him a hug. “It’s okay Bucky.”

Slowly he calmed down, and his emotions subsided into ripples rather than waves. His regret eased along with his fears. He pulled away from you eventually and offered a weak smile, that didn’t necessarily confirm any suspicions that you may have that he was lying or otherwise.

He held up the cranes and smiled, “Thank you, so much, for these.Y/N I can’t ever thank you enough for these, let alone everything else that you’ve done for me. I understand why you would’ve kept this to yourself, if I’d known sooner I’d never had come to you. But because I did- God, I can do things without begin afraid. I can go out with Steve and not freak out, or go through the night without nightmares. I’ve you to thank you for that. You’ve done more for me than I could have ever asked you, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that but-”

You smiled and shook your head, “This, Bucky, is plenty.”

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junhyukiscute · 4 years

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to all the boys i’ve loved before (junhyuk route)

thank you so much for 300+ followers!! once i finish this series, is there anything else you guys wanna see from mcnd? <3

so you’ve chosen bang junhyuk’s route!! sorry for being inactive.. i’m lazy uwu but!! i felt like junhyuk would be a weird tsundere for some reason.. i’m so happy that we have so many people who love mcnd here!! this is a continuation from to all the boys i’ve loved before (mcnd ot5 x reader)

dear junhyuk,

or should i say win? haha, it’s kind of funny that you go by that name sometimes, but it’s cute. hey, remember our first encounter? you came up to me so shyly and asked if i could be your muse for your next art project. how could i have said no to that face you made? it was after getting to know you, that i fell for you. we got along surprisingly really well. i didn’t know that you’d like horror movies, considering you almost cried when i scared you at your locker lol. watching it 2 in theaters with you was a blast (did you really hold my hand to make sure i wouldn’t get scared? it feels like the opposite). since you’ll never even get this letter, i just wanted to say that you really brought a sense of home to me, and i want to thank you for all the good memories we had shared together. if there’s a time when i can tell you how i truly felt, that’d be when pigs fly. but anyways, liking you was like the fall day we met; warm and comfortable. thank you, winnie junhyuk.

love, (y/n)

you wiped your sweaty palms on your uniform was you stood awkwardly at the tennis courts. literally, you were the only one there who wasn’t doing anything. you stuck out like a sore thumb with your uniform. ignoring the glances from others, you jumped when a pale hand tapped your shoulder. seeing the bunny boy had made you sigh in relief.

“you came,” junhyuk smiled, almost sounding like he didn’t believe it. your cheeks suddenly felt hot as you looked at his handsome figure- he made the ugly uniform seem designed with his visuals- before turning your head the other way in hopes of cooling down your face.

“yeah,” your voice came out in an oddly high pitched tone, “why wouldn’t i?”

“well i heard that you were invited to minjae-hyung’s football game,” he replied.

you turned your head around to face him so quickly it almost gave you whiplash. “you knew?!” you gaped.

“mhm, i overheard my classmates talk about it. i thought you would’ve ditched me for him since he’s cooler than me,” junhyuk pouted. you didn’t know if it was on purpose but it was so adorable. you let his words sink in for a bit and couldn’t help the next comment.

“no way, you’re jealous? why would i ditch the little boy who cried when pennywise came out?” you cheekily said while pinching his cheek.

junhyuk stopped functioning for a minute as he recalled the embarrassing moment. “ah, forget i even said anything. the only thing that matters was that you came, so let’s go,” he coughed out before grabbing your hand from his cheek and tugging to away from the tennis courts.

“hey, where are we going? i thought we were gonna talk this out?” you asked while looking at junhyuk’s hand that clasped over yours.

“i wanted to show something to you, i hope you don’t mind,” he replied vaguely.

“... i hope it’s not a dead body,” you said. junhyuk gave you a funny look as you threw your head back and laughed. unknowingst to you, junhyuk had on a fond smile as he looked ahead. you continued to eye the back of his red head.

“pretty,” he mumbled. “anyways, it’s not a dead body for your information, to clear up any misunderstandings. if anything, itd be the other way around. you’re really weird.”

as he started to slow down, the grip on your hand only tightened, as if it was to show he was nervous and needed reassurance. you squeezed back.

“here we are,” junhyuk said, breaking the small silence as you guys entered the school. walking down the corridor, you soon arrived at the art hall, where an art competition/exhibit had taken place. “i wanted to take you to the show but with the timing and everything, i couldn’t find a way. luckily it’s still here, so please bear with me,” junhyuk rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly with his free hand.

you awed at all of the amazing art from the students as he continued to walk down the long hall. “man, imagine being able to draw, i could never,” you joked, “say, are any of your art works here, junhyuk?”

“...” was all that was given. you puffed your cheeks at the response as junhyuk’s hand started to get clammy.

“bro, you good?” you asked once more.

you saw junhyuk’s adam apple move before he turned to look to you, “yeah. before i show you though, can you close your eyes?” you must’ve given an interesting facial expression as junhyuk chuckled with his deep voice. he gave a neevous smile before stopping. “just trust me, please?”

you complied and closed your eyes. junhyuk slowly let go of your hand and you missed the warmth of it. you raised a brow before you felt two calloused hands covering your eyes. “junhyuk?”

“just keep walking straight. we’re almost there,” he said into your ear. it kind of tickled and you got goosebumps, junhyuk just smirked at the reaction you gave. after a few moments, you guys stopped again. junhyuk let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in before letting his hands fall down to his sides. “open your eyes, (y/n).”

with a fluttering heart you opened your eyes and saw a pedestal. you slowly looked up and saw on a plate, “my muse” by bang junhyuk with a 1st place medal next to it. continuing, your eyes traveled up to see a painted portrait of you smiling with flower petals fluttering around. your mouth gaped as you saw the intricate details drawn in, and in the bottom corner in small, messy handwriting wrote, “to you who blooms more beautiful than any flower”.

you turned your head to junhyuk, “this- you- what?” you said very idiotically.

he smiled and looked at you shyly, “do you like it?”

you smiled back, “i love it, junhyuk!” you paused, “but, really, ‘my muse’? couldn’t think of anything more creative?,” you joked.

he rolled his eyes playfully, “can’t you read the mood right now?”

“well i would if this didn’t seem like some kind of eighth grade syndrome comment,” you fired back, “i think you’ve been watching too many k-dramas, bro.”

he dramatically holds his hands on his heart and acts as if he’s been shot, “after all the hard work i’ve done to show you this, i’ve been bro-zoned?! what am i, a simp?”

you laughed again at junhyuk’s goofiness before playfully punching his chest, “why don’t you just tell me straightforwardly of what you wanna say instead of subtly through a painting then, junhyuk?”

junhyuk stares at you for a moment, engulfing himself in your features before putting on a small front. you didn’t miss the way his breath hitched before he continued, “(y/n), i really like you... would you want to vincent van gogh out with me?”

his serious face caused you to break out into giggles, him following along. “and you tell me to read the room?” as the giggles slowly surfaced, you cleared your throat, “junhyuk, i really like you too...” he raised an eyebrow to tell you to continue. “if i were an art critique, i’d give you a ravishing review,” you choked out laughing.

“you’re so lame,” junhyuk said as he laughed. he brought you into a warm embrace as he held you close to him. you leaned your head into the alluring hug as you heard his heart beat rapidly.

the sweet moment continued with you two hugging each other in the middle of the empty hallway before you slightly pushed him away. he let out a little hum as you made eye contact, “what is it?” he softly spoke.

you have a little grin, “you must be an artist because i found myself drawn to you.”

junhyuk groaned as you cackled, “why are you like this?” he complained, closing his eyes, “what a dork.”

“your dork,” you fired back.

he sighed and smiled, “yeah, my dork,” before slowing closing the gap between your guys’ lips.

#mcnd #bang junhyuk #win #bic #castle j #huijun #minjae #nam sungmin #no huijun #song minjae #son seongjun #mcnd fluff #mcnd imagines

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spaceorphan18 · 3 years

Text

Marvel Movie Nights: Iron Man 2

We’re back in the MCU!

There’s a weird contingency that this is the worst film in the MCU catalogue. I really recommend them going back to watch The Incredible Hulk again. While it’s definitely not Avengers Endgame, and it has its... issues, it’s a fairly watchable and sometimes even fun movie. And while I’ll concede that it is a weaker MCU film, I do actually like it overall.

So, like so many things that come before it, IM2 does suffer from some sequelitis. It’s bigger, and brighter, and has a lot more going on in it.

Things I think worked:

Tony’s development as a character -- it’s one step forward, and two steps back. Tony still has a lot of growing up to do, and a lot of shit to work through. And one would almost argue that him becoming Iron Man, and gaining the adoration of millions, goes straight to his head. It’ll be a while before he grows the fuck up and realize that being a super hero isn’t about the adulation he receives, but about saving the damn universe. I love the progression of Tony’s character in these movies, and this is just one imperfect step in a long story.

The quips. There are people out there who don’t like their super hero movies to be funny. I don’t actually understand these people, and the only time I’ve ever found it annoying is in Age of Ultron (we’ll get there). Tony Stark is a funny character, and I appreciate that.

Speaking of things people didn’t like about this film and I did -- the tie-in with the rest of the MCU. Now that we’re at the other end of the Infinity Saga, and understand how the MCU works, I love that this movie is, in essence, an “episode” to set up the rest of the MCU and how it works. I love Nick Fury and Black Widow being a part of it. I love that the Avengers is in its beginning phases how and it’s slowly drawing everything together. The world feels bigger with all of the nods to Thor and Cap and it makes me excited to keep going!

Things I’m mixed on:

Pepper -- Sometimes their banter really works in this film. Sometimes she’s naggy and shrieky, which makes their dynamic uncomfortably like a parent/child, and I don’t like that. They work much better when they’re on even playing terms, and while I like them as a couple overall, this is not the best Pepper’s been characterized.

Rhodey -- I love Don Cheadle, so no complains with the casting change. But Rhodey’s character seemed to be all over the place as the narrative doesn’t seem all that sure what to do with him.

Black Widow -- I do actually love Black Widow in this film, but I think it works much, much better when you know her character better -- and know that the whole sexpot thing is just an act she has to play and not her actual character. I think it is an awkward introduction into the MCU, but one I mind less as time goes by (though her weird hair is still weird).

Tony dying of poisoning -- It didn’t feel that necessary, and was somewhat there to explain away why Tony is acting out in the film (when I think his regular personality is fine enough). I didn’t hate it, but I’m not sure it was needed either.

Things I didn’t like:

The bizarre use of science. So... Howard Stark came up with a new element, embedded the code of that into a theme park that no one would figure out unless they had 3D imaging and a really creative mind, and this stated impossible element Tony figures out how to create in less than six hours. Sure.

Iron Man peeing in his suit. That whole birthday scene was pretty bad.

Not enough Iron Man in general. I know they say less is more, and I’m not huge on big action sequences, but it did feel like Iron Man was used very sparingly.

And possibly the rightfully panned worst part of this film... the villains. It is true that the MCU has a villain problem. People seem to like Sam Rockwell as Justin Hammer -- and while I think he did the part well, I just find Hammer extremely annoying throughout. Meanwhile, what even with Whiplash?? The MCU can pull of a lot of the more convoluted comic-y things, but this dude just doesn’t work. He just seems hilariously outlandish compared to everything going on around him.

Final Verdict: Definitely not as bad as everyone claims it to be, even if it has some glaring faults.

Next Up: It’s Time for the Mighty Thor!

#marvel movie nights #iron man #iron man 2

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cdyssey · 4 years

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Worries

Summary: After the events of "The Hike," Moira sits Johnny down for a talk in the motel room.

Notes: Over the Christmas break, I binged the entirety of Schitt's Creek and fell so much in love with Johnny and Moira that I wanted to write fanfiction for the first time in a year, so here we are. :')

AO3

—

His hair still dripping with the vestiges of his shower, Johnny Rose, clad in his favorite white bathrobe, re-enters the motel room to a familiar trifecta awaiting him on his bed: Moira Rose, her carefully arched brow, and her well-manicured hand placed on the comforter in such a way that her implicit demand is all but spoken: Come here.

“Am I in trouble, Mrs. Rose?” He asks wryly, obediently shuffling to her side. His back is still somewhat stiff from sitting in a waiting room one half of the day and a wheelchair the other, so he’s a little awkward as he lowers himself next to her, trying not to bend in an unpleasant way.

If his wife notices—and he knows that she notices—she only responds with a slight dip in her expression, subtle, but unmistakable for what it is: concern.

Care.

Love.

Sometimes, it positively breaks his heart—how tender his dearest can be.

“Do not am I in trouble me, Mr. Rose,” Moira scolds even as she immediately snakes her arm around his own. “You know the answer to that tonight unless those lovely little pills that the physician prescribed have already affected your presence of mind.”

Instinctively, quite waggishly, he raises a bushy brow.

“You’ve seen me in an altered state before, Moira.”

“A time or twenty nine, yes, of course. You become delightfully Shakespearean with your wordplay; it is irresistibly attractive.”

“So,” he finishes, a gentle smile on his lips, “given that I’m not regaling you with new vocabulary, you know I’m perfectly here right now.”

Here in mind.

Here in body.

Here in soul.

Here with her for another tomorrow and another and another in the confoundingly, paradoxically beautiful Schitt’s Creek.

Moira’s gaze softens, melting in all of her skeptical places, and very slowly, very carefully, she leans her head against his shoulder. The familiar scent of her wreathes him—something floral but indescribable, as though she has just stepped out of an exotic Parisian greenhouse. It is the sweetest perfume he has ever known.

“I know that, John, dear,” she sighs heavily. “I do. I do. I was simply... I mean, I suppose I was just besides myself today under the duress of possibly losing you.” Her plump lips tremble in the way he knows she’s trying her best not to cry. “You were so pale and so drawn and so terribly small, and the last time I saw you possessing any of these qualities in spades was when I was giving birth to Alexis.”

“Funny. I don’t recall you being lucid enough to recall Alexis’s birth.”

“John!” Lifting her head from his shoulder, Moira bats his arm indignantly. “I am not being a wisecrack.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles as she leans against him again. As a peace offering, he briefly presses his lips against her forehead, and in return, one of her hands reaches over to his right wrist, which is still encircled with the patient bracelet from Elmdale Hospital.

She twists it counterclockwise so that she can better view his name. He had forgotten to cut it off before taking a shower.

“Moira”—he glances down at the tiny, printed number which marks him as seventy-three years old—“I’m fine now. You know that, right?”

That piercing blue gaze of hers moves from the bracelet to his own eyes, and it is clear that she is searching him for the veracity of his words—though he imagines that she won’t be able to find the fault that her paranoia tends to dread.

Lying to her has never been his desire nor forte.

“I know that,” she concedes with a tentative smile. “I simply adore you, sweetheart—endlessly—and so when it comes to you, my worries work ahead of my sensibilities. My head, prodigious though it normally is, lags behind my heart, my fears, and all of these feelings in my chest.”

“Is there any way I can assuage those worries, dear?”

“I have a list approximately thirty-two items long.”

Johnny reflexively laughs, and his wife reflexively bats him again, but the parentheses framing her eyes are wrinkled in the beginnings of amusement all the same.

“Start with your first five,” he replies, “and then we’ll go from there.”

“One”—by this point, Moira has worked her thumb beneath his bracelet, lifting it off of his wrist with a disdainful expression—“you go into the bathroom as soon as we are done conversing and cut this dreadful reminder of our past loose from your life! It is ugly and unbefitting, and I much prefer your Rolex.”

She withdraws her thumb from his wrist in the same moment that he nods amicably.

“I can do that. Hospital bracelets are so out of vogue anyway.”

She smiles at him, eyes twinkling.

“Deuxième, dearest, you must assure me that you will strictly follow the physician's orders to scale back on potentially inflammatory food items. No more cinnamon rolls every morning or late night runs to the café for a milkshake.”

“I’ve never gone on—“ He starts indignantly (and guiltily), but he’s just as immediately cut off.

“Shush!” She places her index finger on his lips. “I know you haven’t been going to the apothecary for lip balm once a week. Your lips are perfectly, delectably moist, and David would have already complained about your constant presence in the store were your insinuations true.”

Another reason he doesn’t lie to Moira Rose.

She unfailingly sniffs him out when he does.

“Fine, fine,” he sighs placatingly. “No more milkshake runs.”

“Or daily cinnamon rolls,” she says pointedly.

“Or daily cinnamon rolls,” he parrots back with an eye roll. And now it’s Moira’s turn to laugh in that rich, throaty way of hers; she squeezes his hand warmly, and without thinking, he squeezes back.

“Tres, you must tell me that you love me at least three times a day from this point onwards, so that if you do suddenly kick the proverbial bucket after sampling Twyla’s meatloaf special one day, I can always reflect to our children, friends, and sundry admirers that the last thing that you told me was that you loved me.”

Johnny stares at her incredulously.

“Aren’t you being just a little facetious now?”

And, because Moira Rose can give an incredulous look just as well as she can receive one, she offers one right back.

“Hardly not, John! I am just covering all of our necessary bases in the advent of your untimely demise.”

“Thanks,” he mutters.

“You are very welcome!”

She either didn’t catch the sarcasm or absolutely did and is actively choosing to ignore it—he isn't sure which of the two options is worse.

“Quattuor,” she murmurs next, and this time, Johnny can detect a new seriousness in his wife’s voice. She skims her thumb up and down the length of his gnarled hand and avoids looking him in the eye. “And this one is important, Mr. Rose, so please pay me the utmost attention... but I would desire it very much if you would be vigilant about informing me of your—ah—conditions from now on.”

She glances at him then, her expression uncharacteristically, alarmingly bashful.

“Honey...” He tries, but she brings her head off his shoulder to shake it sadly.

“You were lifting paraphernalia for me this morning when you strained yourself, and you said nary a word until you almost passed out on the dirty floor.” Moira’s thick lashes flutter with a rapidity that isn’t quite natural, and when she looks away, she swipes what he knows she imagines to be a surreptitious hand across her eyes. “I cannot name the emotion that such a sequence of events made me feel because my former therapist, Dr. London Aubergine, advised me to refrain from giving my negative emotions a voice... but, John, I—“

She stops suddenly, her breath hitching, but Johnny doesn’t need to hear another word to understand the gist of what she is saying. With a slow deliberation that is a message in and of itself, he gently cups his hand against Moira’s cheek to command her attention, and, with the faintest of sighs, she leans into his touch.

“There, there, sweetheart,” he says. “If it wasn’t moving all the furniture today, maybe it would have been cleaning the windows tomorrow or changing sheets the day after that. What happened today—and again, let me remind you that I’m okay now—wasn’t your fault.”

“As if you would tell me if it were, though!” She whines accusingly, tilting her head away from his hand.

The sudden recoil gives him whiplash; he instantly misses the warmth of her cheek against his palm.

“I don’t like for you to have to worry!”

“But, John, I want to worry for you. Nay, I demand the right to worry for you!” Her fingernails, sharp and black, fortified by acrylic and long, are beginning to dig into the hand that she is holding. “I love you beyond reason, and I know that can occasionally be overwhelming—goodness knows I can overreact—but I would rather overreact than understate you in a potential crisis. So, please, if you want to regard my feelings, tell me your truth and nothing but your truth.”

Moira takes a deep breath, but her grip on him doesn’t quite relax in the same way.

“I am a nine times shortlisted Daytime Emmy candidate, Mr. Rose." She draws herself to full height where she sits, her shoulders regally postured. "I can handle it—I assure you.”

It's hard to argue with her when she puts it like that in exactly those terms.

His dark eyes crinkle.

“C’mere,” Johnny says, finally extracting his hand from hers so he can pull her into a fuller embrace. He wraps his arms around her back, all tenderness, as she rest her chin in the crook of his neck. He can feel the tattoo of her heart beating rhythmically next to his chest, each thud an elegant melody he doesn't mind hearing again and again. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel this way, Moira. I’ve just never had much practice with, well, talking about my problems at great length. I can be prideful like that, you know—stubborn.”

“Oh, I know that—trust me, dear. You are fifty percent of the children’s psychological complexes.”

Though he knows she can’t see it, he levels her a dirty look.

“Who’s being the wisecrack now?”

“Sorry, darling! Force of habit.”

“But... seriously, Moira,” he continues, beginning to rub circles into the back of her pajama vest, “I’ll do better on that—on telling you things, okay?” A pause.

A beat.

Her heart continues to beat, and his does, too, the smallest reminders of their shared vivacity.

“Okay,” she breathes back, the low affirmation tickling his ear. He doesn’t have enough time to process how that makes him feel before she disentangles herself from him once again, a small smile pressed upon her lips.

“And now, a hearty Italian cinque to finish us off. For my fifth item, John, I would like you to kiss me now as though we have never kissed before, but also as though we have been kissing all of our lives.” She raises a suggestive brow. “It is a fine line between these polarized extremes. Are you up for the challenge?”

With a loud laugh, he does not quite respond to this particular inquiry with words.

#schitt's creek #schitt's creek fic #johnny rose #moira rose #johnny x moira #s: schitt’s creek #reginianwrites

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poeticandvaguelysweet · 5 years

Text

it comes and goes in waves (and carries us away) –– #2 Daughters

Hey, it’s me again.

This time with a little random family fic, it's just domestic nothingness, an evening with Harvey and his twin girls inspired by THIS image I posted on Tumblr. The gif got a lot of attention and it killed me, so I thought why not?! I'm still trying to learn these characters in preparation for a multi-chapter I have promised a few people.

Thank you so much to everyone who read my first little drabble and enjoyed it, I was really happy to read that. This one is in no way connected to the last.

Enjoy!

AO3 - FF.Net

DAUGHTERS

There was something about the city during Fall. Summer was still clinging to the air, warm and comfortable as the temperature slowly began to drop. He spent more time outside during those tentative few weeks where the air was sweet with pumpkin spice and crackling foliage. It felt easier then, to stroll the streets, soaking in the change of the seasons before the weather made walks like this impossible.

The lights on the street were just turning on, a chill settling in the air as commuters with a similar mind meandered up and down the street. Halloween decorations had begun to creep across storefronts advertising seasonal products that in a few weeks, would disappear until next year.

'Daddy, I want to be a purple princess and a witch.' A little voice piped up beside him enthusiastically, her small fingers gripped his right hand tightly as she skipped in step beside him. Harper with her straight strawberry blonde hair had a habit of clinging to him as if she loosened her grip for a second, he would disappear.

Harvey only chuckled, squeezing his daughter's hand in return as he tried to picture the vision, she had for her first proper Halloween. His job was to make her happy and whatever Harper asked for, Harvey was happy to oblige.

'Daddy?' Whiplash yanked at him like it did in that funny little way, the voice standing to his left tearing his attention away from the one on his right. He forgot sometimes, for a split second, that there was two of them. Harper on his left, Grace on his right, mirrors of each other brought into this world to gleefully mess with him. 'I want to be a ballerina, 'cause you can only be one dress-up'. Grace was almost an identical copy of her sister had it not been for the strawberry blonde hair that persisted in keeping tight ringlets around her head. Officially, they were identical but there were so many little things about them that insisted on being different.

'Nah-ah!' Harper retorted in a voice that sounded entirely too much like her mother. 'You can be all the dress-ups.' Harper was the unpredictable one, unexpected Baby B who developed her mother's flair for the dramatic. At four-and-a-half Harper Rose Specter had defined her personality as the rebellious one who hid behind a sweet face but had a love for slowly driving her sister crazy. Where Grace was neat and organised, perfectly dressed and contained, Harper was wild. She wore black and white striped tights instead of the pink stockings the ballet uniform required, her sneakers were bright colours that matched next to nothing in her wardrobe. Expensive clothes were wasted on Harper who always found a muddy puddle even on the driest of days. She was a rebel, a renegade, a girl after his own heart.

It was a miracle they lasted as long as they did in the womb together, evidently, it was the longest stretch of time between Harper and Grace where they weren't fighting. They bickered about toys, attention, who tucked in who first and how they did it and now that their sentences were long and their vocabulary had grown substantially, they argued about the other's logic.

'Daddy, I can be anything, can't I?' Harper tugged on his hand, staring up at him with large hazel eyes that always seemed to pull him in.

He thought they had longer on this, the sibling arguments that made no sense and the headache of it all. He was used to rallying clients, making sense of their quarrels and foraging agreements it wasn't so easy when the case involved his daughters on opposing sides.

'Anything.' He answered, knowing he would willingly give his daughters the world. He squeezed each of their hands. 'If Harper wants to mix her dress-ups, she can.' Grace pouted, the same pout his wife was bound to give him the second she realised Harper wasn't going to play ball on coordinating costumes, not now that he had given her permission.

It was the first year they were going to take the girls trick-or-treating, their first real Halloween where they were out on the street with all the other kids, knocking on doors and receiving sugary treats. Donna had something planned, only the perfect costumes for her girls, but she had not anticipated their spirit to be either own entities.

'My legs are tired.' Grace whined, her hand heavy in his, steps faltering as she complained. Harvey didn't hesitate before he scooped her up, hoisting the girl on his hip before they continued walking down the street.

'That better?' He asked, squeezing Grace's hip beyond the tulle of her tutu. Her head dropped to his shoulder as she gave him a small nod. This was what made it all worth it, the affection his girls managed to show him with cuddles and kisses that never seemed to end. He had been scared when the sonogram showed two babies rather than the expected one. Harvey didn't know what they were going to do or how they would manage two little lives at the one time. He didn't think he could shave that much time off his day, didn't think he could find the time at all. It all melted away the second they were there, two little pink bundles sitting in the crook of each arm. They were going to be fine. He suddenly realised how much he would sacrifice for their love and happiness.

He kissed Grace's cheek and gave her another squeeze. 'Are you going to show me all those dance moves you've been practising?' He jostled Grace, bouncing her on his hip with concern that she might just fall asleep on him. Tired girls lead to cranky girls and the last thing they needed at Thursday night ballet was a tantrum.

Harvey didn't always get to come to ballet, he tried but often cases weren't that simple. Sometimes he got caught in a meeting or had to finish up a deposition. It was rare that he had the opportunity to pick them up and take them to ballet, enough so that Harvey had been looking forward to it all afternoon.

'I can show you!' Harper broke away from his hand to skip a few steps ahead of him. She twirled, arms above her head as her tutu bounced with her movements.

'She's not doing it right.' Grace whispered where only Harvey could here. He chuckled, rolling his eyes at the two of them before his hand reached out for Harper. Harvey looked up as she took his hand again, falling back into step beside him. Standing out the front of his daughter's ballet studio was his wife, radiant as ever, red hair cascading down her shoulders, dress fitting snug against every curve. His heart warmed at the sight of her, almost skipping a beat with an excitement he would never get sick of.

Her eyes met his over the bustle of people on the street, a grin spreading across her cheeks in a way that made Harvey tingle. That smile was all for him.

'Mommy!' Harper pulled away from his hand once again, finally spotting her mother waiting for them. Their feisty daughter had a week spot for her mother, running full pelt towards her, Harper crashed into Donna's legs. Donna crouched to accept her daughter's hug, arms wrapping tight around Harper's before she stood, lifting the little girl to sit precariously on the bump that was subtly announcing the life growing inside of her. Harper giggled as Donna kissed her cheeks, peppering her touch left and right, over the ridge of her daughter's nose and back again before they shared sweet butterfly kisses.

'Hey, trouble!' Donna grinned; the smile uncontained as it burst across her face. It didn't matter how long it had been since she last saw her daughters, she was always excited for their bright smiles and eagerness to see them. 'Were you good for Daddy this afternoon?' She asked, eyes raising to meet Harvey's as he came to stand beside her. He pressed a kiss to her cheek in greeting, his hand warm on the small of her back as she felt her body relax at his touch and presence.

'Always.' Harper and Harvey replied, mirrored father/daughter grins climbing across their cheeks.

'What about you, sulky-face?' Donna reached for Grace's chin, her hand squeezing briefly before they turned to tickles, trying to crack an easy smile. 'Were you good? Did Daddy spoil you?' She knew the answers; Grace was always good, and Harvey would always spoil his daughters regardless of their behaviour.

'We went to Tiffany's!' Grace smiled, cheeks round and happy as she thrust the signature blue bag she had been holding towards her mother's face.

'Oh, my goodness, Tiffany's before ballet, you must have been very good.' She gave her husband a pointed look despite her wide smile.

'Perfect angels,' Harper supplied.

'What she said,' Harvey responded with another peck to his wife's cheek. 'We got you something too.' He knew that would sweeten her irritation if only a little. They were trying to make sure their children weren't spoiled brats, but it hadn't helped when Harvey carved the second their eyes light up with wonder towards anything in their line of vision.

'Oh, well, if you got me something too, I can't complain, can I?' She grinned, Harvey reflecting her smile with adoration in his eyes. He had once been terrible at buying her gifts, anyone for that matter, but in recent years he had gotten better and it warmed her every time. 'Are we ready to dance?' Donna asked, jostling Harper on her hip as she turned a grin towards Grace.

Both girls nodded their approval, excitement building up inside of them. 'Our slippers?' The girls had their leotards and their tutus, but the elusive ballet slippers had been left at home in the bag Harvey forgot to pick up on his way out the door. He thought he had it handled, thought he was being smart in dressing the girls before heading out, but he was unused to the routine and what was required on ballet days. She shoes had been forgotten.

'I've got them.' Donna reassured her daughter, finger pointing to the bag at her feet. Harvey picked it up as he put Grace down on her feet.

'I told you Mom always saves the day.' He ruffled Grace's curls, her hair bouncing around her head as she tried to ruffle through the bag for her ballet slippers. 'Ok, let's head inside and we can put these on, yeah?' Grace was already skipping ahead, leading herself into the building and the cubby's where she could leave her sneakers while she wore the slippers required for class.

Harvey took Harper from Donna, lifting the girl out of her arms before setting her on her feet and telling her to follow her sister.

'How were they really?' Donna asked, the two of them trailing Harper into the building. The girls could be a handful, even for her on the best of days. Donna just wanted to know that her daughters deserved the ice cream Harvey would offer them on their way to dinner.

'Perfect, honestly.' She felt his hand find the small of her back once again, thumb stroking over her spine. 'Although, is there a reason why Grace has to be right more than Harper?'

Donna shrugged, 'She got that from you'.

'I thought we had a little more time before the one-upping started.' He could remember arguing with Markus, picking fights, stealing toys and general teasing but he was sure they were older than the girls are now. 'This one isn't going to fight with them.' He said it and yet he knew better, his other hand reaching for her stomach as he rubbed the curve of their third child.

She chuckled, eyes alight with humour and a knowing smile. 'Oh, Harvey, he doesn't stand a chance with those two for sisters.' Her hand joined his, fingers grazing his knuckles before she wrapped her hand around his arm and pushed herself onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

They sat like that while the girls followed their teacher around the room, Donna's arm entwined with his, her head on his shoulder, their fingers laced. The girls jumped and shimmied and twirled around on their toes, giggling as their tutu's bounced.

He needed to make more time for this. Donna, the girls, just being with them and taking part in their schedule.

The girls got ten minutes at the end of the lesson for free dance where the laughter of the small group of four-year-olds only increased as an energetic Taylor Swift song blasted through the speakers. He watched their broad grins, the joy shining on their faces as they jumped around the room, letting their little bodies move to the music. Harper broke away from the group, sprinting towards her parents as her little hands wrapped around her father's. 'Come dance, Daddy!' She giggled, pulling on his hands as her little body wiggled away from them.

Powerless, Harvey followed, Harper holding one hand while Grace came over to take the other. He danced with his daughters, the girls doing twirls at his feet, holding onto a single finger as they did so. He couldn't help but laugh, Harvey in his Tom Ford suit, dancing with his daughters and the other girls in their dance class. He could feel his heart expanding with love for them, the muscle clenching as it did when he found out about them and again when they were born. It was resizing, making room for another memory, expanding with his love for them. When Harvey looked towards Donna, ready to share his glee, she had her phone up, half obscuring her face as she recorded the moment they shared.

'Can you come every week?!' Grace beamed, sitting still beside her mother while Harvey knelt at her feet, lacing up her sneakers.

He wanted to. God, did he want to be there every week to watch them learn and grow but work wasn't always that simple. Meetings were scheduled, depositions had to be done, paperwork finished, trials to prepare for. He tried to be home; his secretary knew not to schedule him too late if she could help it. But that wasn't the job he had, a regular nine-to-five, where he could be home every day to spend time with his daughters.

'I'm going to make more of an effort, ok?' This time was fleeting, sure Grace would likely still with ballet until she was well into her teens, they would have recitals and competitions to attend, but this fun, this excitement of having their dad there, that time was limited. He didn't want to ruin it. 'Ready to go home?' Ray would be waiting outside for them already, ready to take them home for the evening.

Grace gave her father a nod, feet swinging with her shoes securely fastened. He picked her up in an easy movement, hoisting Grace on one hip as he reached for Harper to do the same on the other side. Donna rolled her eyes, a fond smile spreading across her lips at the vision of her husband, a daughter on each hip, cheeks still pink from dancing with them in their ballet class.

They had waited so long for this to happen, the marriage, the family, the life. It felt like if someone pinched them, they would wake up from an all too pleasant dream and it would all be over. No one had pinched him yet and Harvey was happy that they hadn't.

'Ready?' He asked Donna, making sure they were set.

'Ready.' Her warm smile touched him, setting Harvey alight with a love he never felt he deserved. Tonight, they would go home, cook dinner, bathe their daughters and put them to bed just as they had done every night since they were a few months old and like they would do for years to come.

#darvey #suits usa #donna paulsen #harvey specter #darvey fic #suits #harper specter #lily grace specter #harper and grace #darvey babies #it comes and goes in waves (and carries us away)

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violetsmoak · 4 years

Text

Pieces of April [16/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Author’s Note: Here’s your daily dose of JayTim and baby for your quarantine reading pleasure! Stay safe, wash your hands and support your local healthcare, waste management and retail workers!

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

The rest of the afternoon is spent on the phone, fielding calls from various departments and sorting out production complications. Interspersed are texts and Facebook messages from friends and family—Dick, wondering if dinner is still happening on Friday, Bruce wanting updates on the mob case, the Titans wanting to know if he’s coming to San Francisco that weekend—

Tim is evasive with all except the last one, informing Bart that there’s some family drama going on that will keep him home for a while. Once the speedster knows, everyone else will know, so it’s about as effective as sending a group text.

He resists the urge to phone Jason and see how he’s doing; he’s rather sure he won’t pick up.

(“I ain’t a damn kid that needs checkin’ up on, Drake.”)

Not that Tim is checking up on him. He just knows that whenever someone in the family is going through a personal crisis, that’s usually the time when Gotham’s rogues decide to act out.

So really, ensuring Jason’s stress levels stay manageable is a public service.

“Because that sounds like logic,” he chides.

Damian shows up around 3 o’clock and spends the next two hours alternatively disparaging everything about Tim from his too-long hair to how he organizes his filing system, to discussing WE resource allocation for an animal shelter he wants to open. The conversational whiplash is enough to make Tim’s head spin, and he makes a note in his phone to talk to Bruce about whatever it is that’s going on between them that’s so bad Damian prefers Tim’s company to his father’s.

Either Bruce put his foot down about another of Damian’s strays, or he still won’t agree that Robin should have a private prison to lock up rogues.

Whatever the reason, Tim is very much out of his depth at the youngest Bat’s newest tactics for taking his frustrations out on Tim.

Though I guess workplace inconveniences are a huge step up from swords to the gut. Could always be worse, I guess.

It turns out he’s not the only one learning new and interesting coping strategies. Upon arriving home at six, he finds Jason tweaking the tech in his gear on the kitchen table, baby carrier three feet away.

His entire body is tense, like a spring ready to snap.

“Was she up all day or something?” Tim asks on the way in, putting his bag on the floor and loosening his tie.

Jason shoots him a baleful look. “She’s been crying all day. And she’s still barely eating. I think she’s starting to look a little yellow—Tim, why is she yellow?”

And Jason sounds—dare he say it—almost frazzled.

Right. Time for more damage control.

“I’ve got her,” Tim says, easing into Jason’s personal space and taking the baby. “You go to sleep. Or shower. Or watch TV or something. You’re starting to go batty.”

That earns a disgusted look, and even Tim winces because that was just bad.

“Did you seriously just say that?” Jason asks.

“No, you’re sleep-deprived and hallucinated it,” he replies.

“I’ll allow it,” Jason says, yawning. “But only because it could be true.”

Jason shuffles off upstairs and Tim heaves himself onto the couch, pulling out his phone to check his usual online haunts for potential cases or clues for his current case. Social media and forums are pretty good sources once you learn how to weed out the sensationalist crap.

After thirty minutes of nothing, he gives it up and wanders over to the dwindling pile of baby items. Jason hasn’t returned yet, so he’s either passed out from exhaustion in the shower or actually made it to bed. Since Tim can’t hear the water running, he supposes it’s the latter.

It won’t kill me to go without the pre-patrol nap today, I guess.

Studying the pile, he notes that the boxes with the crib, changing table and whatever else needed assembly, have all gone missing. Presumably, Jason set those up this morning in a fit of boredom or paranoia.

The only things that haven’t been touched are the blankets, soft toys and garments, other than whatever Isa’s been changed into already.

There are only about twenty different pieces of clothing, and according to his not-so-new best friend the Internet, that’s not going to be nearly enough given infant propensity to upchuck. Especially since it’s not all the same size. Tam had to guess how big Isa was, so at least half the onesies here won’t fit her for another month or two, which isn’t supremely helpful for right now.

Back to fiddling with his phone, Tim goes online to order some more supplies and discovers, to his delight, that there’s an entire line of pop-culture related babywear. Star Wars, Star Trek, Doctor Who, Superhero logos…

He grins as he orders one of everything for next-day delivery, wondering whether Jason’s more likely to complain or find it funny.

Under normal circumstances, he’d probably find it funny. For someone else’s kid.

There’s still no sign of Jason after sunset, so Tim feeds and burps the baby, then sets up his laptop and tablet in the kitchen to check some of his surveillance feeds for the mob case. However, Isa protests every time he tries to put her down.

“What’s wrong with you now?” he asks. “You’re warm, you’re fed—” He takes a pause to check and change her diaper, during which time she continues to mewl at him, “—and you’re dry. Which means now’s the time you got to sleep, okay? New babies are supposed to do three things: eat, poop and sleep. So get on that.”

Once again he attempts to wrap her up and place her in her carrier, but the whimpering becomes flat-out crying, her tiny face becoming purple with rage and her eyes pinching shut.

“Okay, okay—putting you down is a no,” he sighs, tucking her back in his arms to rock her gently. He watches his computer monitor balefully, knowing if he’s holding the baby, there’s not going to be any hacking of Gotham’s CCTV tonight.

Could text Babs and ask her to do it. Except then she’ll want to know why.

Which is also a no.

One-handed, he searches out his phone again, looking up possible reasons for Isa’s current temper and potential solutions online. One thing jumps out at him and he brightens. A quick trip to the Nest and back, and he has what he was looking for.

Which is how Jason finds him when he finally comes back downstairs around eight o’clock, showered, rested and altogether more human-looking than what Tim came home to. He pauses at the foot of the stairs, squinting at Tim. “Is that your cape?”

“My cape is made out of state-of-the-art piezoelectric fabric substrates that can become a weapon with the right electrical frequency,” Tim retorts, trying not to feel entirely self-conscious from his seat at the kitchen table, wrapped in a makeshift mei-tai with Jason’s daughter drooling into his chest. “Also, that thing’s filthy.”

“And this is…?”

“My old cape,” Tim replies, going back to his computer. “Sometimes newborns just need to hear a heartbeat to calm them down. The best way is skin to skin, but I’m kind of in the middle of something, so this is the next best thing.”

Jason tilts his head to one side in consideration. “That’s a good idea.”

“Yeah, I looked it up online.”

“Of course you did,” Jason groans, rubbing his temple. “Because that’s what normal people do. I didn’t even think of it, I was too busy trying to get her to stop crying.” He huffs, almost rueful. “Why the hell am I surprised that you’re good at this? You’re good at friggen everything.”

Huh. A compliment. Those are almost as rare coming from Jason as they are from Damian. He must really be out of his comfort zone.

“Maybe it’s just because I have a certain measure of distance from it all,” Tim suggests, standing up to leave his temporary workstation. “If I suddenly found out I had a kid, I don’t know how I’d react.”

“Bull. You’re just like B. You’d just stick it in the back of your mind and forget about how to feel about it until you’re ready to deal.”

Tim feels a sudden flare of anger. “Is that actually how you think I am?”

“You going to tell me you’re not?” Jason challenges.

Tim opens his mouth to do exactly that, only to wrinkle his nose at the sudden stench arising from the lump of baby tucked against his chest.

“Ugh. Someone needs a change.”

Again. Guess I wasn’t so far off about the ‘eat, poop and sleep’ thing.

Jason snorts. “As far as conversation enders, that’s a pretty good one.”

Tim carefully unwinds the fabric from around his body and deposits the slowly waking baby into her father’s arms. “Tag.”

“You suck.”

“Serves you right for being a dick.”

He feels almost no guilt leaving Jason to deal with the soiled diaper and cranky baby this time, still smarting a bit about the resentful accusation that was lobbed at him.

Just because I can compartmentalize doesn’t mean I forget about things. Or that I don’t feel them.

He’s just not like Jason, or Dick, or Damian, who get angry and lash out as loudly and as viciously as they can. And he’s not like Bruce, either, since Bruce really can flip a switch and put something difficult out of his mind if it interferes with the all-important Mission.

Tim’s tried doing that, and as successful as he was in his quest to locate Batman when he was lost in the time stream, that period of Tim’s life was the most desperate and hopeless he’s ever felt. It was painful in a way that was different from losing his father, or Connor, or Bart—mostly because he was forced to bottle everything up to get the job done.

It was months after Bruce returned before Tim started processing things normally again.

Not that I should expect Jason to know that, he muses as he grapples through the rooftops of Gotham. He might know about me from my files and when we occasionally work together, but he’s never stuck around long enough to get to know anyone who came after him.

The night is at its darkest, cut through only by the Bat-signal in the distance. He won’t be running into Bruce tonight then unless the GCPD is bringing him in on the Gazzo case. It’s unlikely since there hasn’t been any retaliation yet. GCPD protocol dictates they’ll pass it off to Homicide until orders from on high turn it over to Major Crimes.

Red Robin ends up stopping two muggings and a drug deal before making his way to Gazzo territory to take some surveillance photos of his own. Security images are helpful in general, but he has camera tech that will let him focus on details the CCTV won’t pick up.

It’s another relatively early night for him, returning home just after midnight to upload his findings to the servers and shower off the grit and grime of the city.

The apartment is silent, and he expects Jason and Isa to be upstairs in the newly built nursery, but upon closing the secret door again, he notices the faint sound of breathing. Creeping over to the sitting room, he finds Jason passed out on the couch beside Isa’s carrier. The television is on but not showing any channel, instead casting a solid blue light across the room.

Tim can’t help noticing how Jason’s habitual frown has eased in slumber. There’s no trace of a sneer or growl on his lips right now, his mouth parted only to breathe.

He has never seen the older man like this.

There are pictures of him at the manor, of course, most of them hidden away in dusty boxes. It’s only recently they’ve started cropping up at the manor again, though Tim isn’t sure whether it’s Dick or Alfred that’s been putting them there.

Hell, maybe it is Bruce. It’s the exact kind of gesture he’d make to try to tell Jason he wants him around more, without actually having to tell him directly.

Whoever’s responsible for them, Tim’s memorized all of those photos. The boy in those is always grinning or making silly faces or not paying attention to the photographer because he’s busy doing something he shouldn’t be.

If there’s a picture of Jason looking so calm and peaceful, it’s hidden away in Bruce’s personal files where no one can find them.

Tim can sort of see why given how vulnerable his predecessor looks right now. This is the Jason that Bruce remembers, the one he’s built up in his memory that’s different from the Jason once enshrined in the much-maligned class case in the Cave. This is the Jason Bruce is trying to find whenever he squares off with Red Hood and mourns as lost when he can’t find him.

Which is stupid since he’s still right here. I wonder if anyone else will ever realize that?

Tim decides not to wake Jason; he might have been a jerk before, but he should sleep while he can.

Instead, he settles in on the other couch with his laptop to review the surveillance shots he took himself and from the security feeds. If he can figure out just which of these mobster muscle heads is the easiest to break, he can get a better idea of what might have happened to the teenager in concrete.

I’ll just do a quick scan tonight, and study them in more detail tomorrow.

Of course, as usual, he gets invested in his work and doesn’t look up again until about four o’clock, when Isa’s sharp cry pieces the silence. Tim jumps, having completely forgotten her presence, but that’s nothing on Jason, who vaults upward from his spot on the couch, body tense and prepared to react to whatever caused the noise, friend or foe.

His hand is already reaching for a gun—one that Tim is thankful to see is no longer there.

“It’s okay, it’s just time for the next feeding,” he says quietly, trying to sound both casual and soothing at the same time. Based on the bleary look he’s getting from Jason, he’s less than successful.

Jason glares at his empty hand, clenched as if to hold onto something, and Tim must be on the verge of falling asleep himself because for a moment he imagines he can see the outline of a sword.

Great. Hallucinations. Tomorrow’s going to be a triple-shot of espresso day, I can tell.

And it’s suddenly occurring to him that babies and their sudden loud noise-making skills might not be the best thing for someone that’s suffered the kinds of trauma Jason has.

He makes up a mental note to look up some strategies for that. He’s not quite sure how he’ll bring up the subject with Jason. While Jason is adamant that Tim’s the most like Bruce, when it comes to avoiding problems, he’s the one that has more in common with the man.

For now, he decides to just act as normal.

“You know there’s a perfectly good bed upstairs?” he quips. “Thousand thread count, fluffy pillows, solid mattress…”

“Shut up. I was watching something. Guess I fell asleep.” Jason swings around and makes a move toward the baby, but Tim makes a motion to stop him.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it.”

“You already took her when you got back.”

“How do you know? You were sleeping?”

“I was resting my eyes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Go to sleep or you’ll be face-planting in your coffee tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine, I—"

“This isn’t your responsibility, Replacement. Go to bed—I’ll handle this.”

Jason is clearly not someone to be reasoned with when sleep-deprived; Tim always suspected that, of course, but he’s never had the up-close-and-personal experience. It doesn’t make him any less frustrated.

“The whole point of you staying here is for me to help,” he reminds him. “So would you just accept it already?”

“You’re also the one with a nine-to-five job and actually need the friggen sleep.”

Tim grimaces. “Fine. But I’m going to make up a schedule for us tomorrow so we can divide the babysitting more equitably.”

“You do that, boy scout. Why don’t you make a chore-wheel while you’re at it?” Jason jeers, taking the baby and heading for the kitchen. “This isn’t kindergarten.”

“Are you sure about that?” Tim shoots back, scowling in frustration.

Just for that, I will make one. See if I don’t.

⁂⁂⁂

Your feedback matters! I want to know what you think of my story, so feel free to leave kudos, a comment or as many of these emojis as you want and let me know how you feel!

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#jaytim #timjay #babyfic #kidfic #slow build #slow burn #tim drake #jason todd #bringing up baby #baby isa #toddlet #adulting #slice of life

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faerieswriter · 5 years

Text

my first time writing and posting anything at all on here original story wise. a special thanks to @msmeaghanrey for giving me the encouragement to finish this and post it ♡ tw for mentions of abuse

ao3 // wattpad

Everything is muted at night, in more ways than one. The lights, the colors, the sounds. Everything but thoughts, that’s when they’re their loudest. The only thing that can snap out of them was the thud of the bag hitting the ground, weighed down by the spray paint inside.

I need to get out, I need to get out.

I can’t do this anymore, I can’t do this anymore.

The thoughts that plague me every single night, every time my father raises his hand to me or my sister. Every time I have to stare at the mattress laying on the floor instead of in a frame. Every time I see bottle after empty bottle laying on every surfaces in the dark, damp apartment I’m forced to call home.

The only sounds that cut through the night are the faint sounds of the cars in the distance, so far away they’re almost a memory, and the sound of the aerosol spray as the wall before me turns from blank to red in all but an instant.

Shut the fuck up.

Worthless piece of shit.

Words are just words until they’re not just words anymore.

Words are just words until they eat their way into your soul, gnawing away until there’s nothing left but an empty pit deep in your core. Until the hole where your heart used to be fills with insecurities, with sadness. With anger. With anything you can hold on to. Sometimes anything feels better than nothing at all.

Painting is the only way for me to make any impact at all, the only way to get out everything I’m feeling. I hear the people on the street complaining about it, about how “that damn graffiti ruining the city”. Even then, I feel pride. They’re looking at me, they’re looking at my mark.

Purple splatters across the wall and purple splatters across my cheek, my passion throbbing through the wall like the bruise still throbbing on my cheek. Whenever I want to hit back, whenever I want to hurt myself, I take it out on the wall. On the sign. On the bench. Whatever I can find. The darker my mind is, the brighter the city becomes.

And tonight, my mind is an abyss.

If I stare into the abyss too long, it starts to stare back. And I can’t take that, not on nights like this. Every time I get into my mind for too long, all I can think about is how much I want to hurt him. About how I want to hurt myself even more. I’ve painted my arm red too many times, at least with the wall he never knows. He doesn’t know that it’s me that makes this city beautiful every time he drinks. Only I know that.

And them.

Well… him. He’s the only one that knows why I paint every time I paint, the others just know that all the graffiti is mine. And I’m okay with that. I think they know something, it’s hard to not put together how often I’m shaken up and bruised and bloody, how often I don’t want to go home. They just don’t talk about it, and I don’t bring it up. And that’s how we like it. I know they all have their things too but when we’re together it’s the only happiness we have. The only time any of us feel whole.

I swear he can sense where I am whenever I go out, and I feel his hand on my shoulder before I hear him. I jump and he laughs, he always thinks it’s a little funny when I’m jumpy. Not in a mean way, and he never makes me feel bad about it.

Completely the opposite, his laugh makes my heart feel brighter for the first time all day.

Just like it always does.

“You didn’t call me.”

“Didn’t know I had to every time I go out.”

“You know what I mean.”

I did know what he meant. He likes to at least know when things get bad again, he likes to be here with me while I paint. To talk, to make things less tense. To listen. To keep an eye out for the cops. The last thing I needed was to get caught, again, and he knew that.

“Sorry, didn’t think before I left. Just ran,” I say with a sigh, finally looking over at him. I have to look up slightly to look at his face, and the second I do I look away. I know he’ll see the bruise, but I really don’t want him to. I don’t want him to worry.

But he always worries.

And he always notices.

He reaches out and grabs my chin in his hand, jerking my face back to him. I avert my eyes but I know he can see my whole face, my whole shame. His fingers gently ran over the bruise, a stark contrast to the touch that was there not even a few hours ago. His hands were so big, rough from working hard. But he was never rough with them, at least not to me.

He let go of my face a heartbeat too late, but I couldn’t find it in myself to feel weird about it. But fuck did I feel vulnerable. I turn my face away again, wanting to hide away. I feel so naked knowing he was looking at my bruise and he knew what caused it.

“Is that the only one tonight?”

I nod at the question and look down at the spray can in my hand. “Yeah, that’s it,” I say, shaking myself out of it to give him a small smile. “And it’s not that bad, doesn’t even hurt anymore. I’m fine.” If I kept pretending things were fine, maybe one day they would be.

I had to hope that one day they would be.

I went back to painting, not really sure what I was creating just that I had to get it all out. He leans against the wall as I paint, a cigarette dangling from his lips. I won’t lie and say having him instantly made everything perfect again, but it helps. It helps more than he could ever know. I could feel my mind go from a tornado to a drizzle, my thoughts were clearer and I could finally breathe again.

Which sometimes could be just as dangerous.

I could break down at any time, I knew it. He knew it. It was just what kind of breakdown was it going to be if I did. But, for now, I was okay. I was okay and I was focused. On the wall, on the paint, on the sounds of the night. On him and his warmth next to me.

I could hear the sirens about half a second after I feel him hit my shoulder and I move on autopilot, grabbing up my bag and running after him without a second thought. This wasn’t my first time running from the cops, far from it, but it wasn’t always easy. We run down the road, him ahead of me, hearing the cops trailing behind us on foot. I risk a look behind me and I laugh, the red haired cop behind me one I’ve ran into a few times in my trips to the station or when dad gets a little too loud and the neighbors get a little too nosy. I walk backwards for a moment, smirking and playfully flipping him off before I feel my arm being yanked again. We turn down a street and duck unto an alley and I laugh again.

His hand slaps over my mouth to keep me quiet until the cops run past, my heart beating hard from the adrenaline. We were unbelievably close in this cramped alley, and the second his hand was off of my mouth I was laughing again. I don’t know why I was laughing, I guess the whiplash of emotions I’ve gone through tonight was getting to me. Sometimes when things are confusing all you can do is laugh. Laugh because what the fuck, how is this my life? A cycle of abuse and painting and police. It was funny- it wasn’t funny. But I couldn’t stop laughing.

And then he started to laugh too.

We laughed until we couldn’t breathe, sharing still a few chuckles as we panted, our chests heaving as we calmed ourselves down. In that moment, there was just this. His warmth right in front of me, the smell of his cologne and faint cigarette smoke on his clothes, his breathing. I smile up at him and he smiles back, running a hand through his hair before looking at his phone. It was late, really late. I started to feel a panic rising in my chest, oh God I couldn’t go home. I didn’t know if my dad was passed out yet, and I didn’t want to take the risk. Not when I was finally feeling okay.

“Let’s pick up some food and go watch some Netflix,” he offered like he could sense my worry, and maybe he could.

We linger in that tiny alley a few moments longer before he finally leads me out to the street, and we make our way through that muted night once again, back to his apartment.

#amwriting #writeblr #original fiction #short story #original writing #honestly idk how to tag shit like this? ive never posted something like this before #anyways hope y'all enjoy i feel really good about this but nervous to post it #my writing

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scienceoftheidiot · 5 years

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For the questions about your OCs: 12, 18, 41, 42! :D

Awwh thanks for this !! I’ll reply only for the core 3 if that’s okay. Which makes it very long. Lol I hope you don’t mind.

This had me thinking more than usual, and about things I don’t usually think about, which is great !! thank you for this !

12. What is their favourite food? Desden: this is a question you do not ask. Food is sacred. All the food is worth love. Heathens only have some favourite food (don’t serve him celery. No celery. Not in this house.) Diane: anything that is quick to make and eat or that she doesn’t do herself. Then she will discover Desden’s cooking talent and she will never make any food herself anymore… almost, lol. Jimmy: the 4am kebab (well, used to be)

18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else Desden: not really into films or video games for obvious reasons, but music and audiobooks are his thing. His music library will give you whiplash, it’s too random (lots of rock, though, as broad as it gets). Do not for any reason let him sing. As for books, mysteries, cop stories are fine, and he still hasn’t gotten out of the fantasy he used to read at Uni, so sometimes that, too. Nerd. Diane: loves terrible reality TV, mostly listens to french pop/singers (la Variété ™ ) or french ska/reggae/whatever (voilà donc comme je veux pas filer mes goûts à tout le monde elle écoute Tryo. Si, il existe des gens bien qui écoutent Tryo. J’en connais une. Sisi.)(cut to: rambling in french about giving her to love bands I hate). Films, she likes some good action, but can like romance too. And as for books, she will read anything and everything, she loves books. Life stories are her favourites though. No video games. Jimmy: lots of video games, mostly car races and FPS. The basic dudebro stuff. Action films. And wednesday afternoon cartoons he used to watch with his little brother. Causes him to know all the lyrics to all the Disney movies too. Don’t tell anyone.

41. What’s their sexuality? What do they find attractive? Physically and mentally? What do they like/need in a relationship? Desden: straight, but will not shy of saying if someone’s got an attractive voice, regardless of gender. He will compliment you. So yeah he likes people’s voices, especially low ones. This is one of the things that drove him to Diane - but one thing he found terribly attractive in her is that she’s buff. She’s got strong arms and body and he gets very into it - first time he found out about it when taking her arm, he was surprised but it instantly had an effect on him, ehehe. Mentally, he likes people who don’t shy away from things, and can take dark humour. And feral women ;) In a relationship, he likes to be taken out of his comfort zone, some challenge. And oh boy there’s a challenge, in catching that wild animal of a girl. Diane: straight. She likes soft boys (don’t we all), and funny ones. Physically she likes any kind as long as they’re tall, she doesn’t really have a type apart from that. Mentally, well, as I said, funny, and above all dependable, but not dependant on her. She needs her space. Though, she likes to be taken care of. She has simple needs, and doesn’t want much. In fact as the story start she really doesn’t want a relationship. Not her thing. Not the time. She wants to have her freedom and she is intend on keeping it. Jimmy: unknown. For real, I cannot place a sexuality on him, and I think he would be questionning. He’s been with men and women in the past. So I would use queer for him. But I’m frankly unsure as to how I would handle that, and him being an actual ghost in the story makes it kinda shitty. He’s not the sole non straight character I have, mind you, lol. Idk. As for other things, the more I stay on Tumblr, the more I’m afraid to write characters that aren’t exactly in the same “box” as I am, so I just need to disconnect and go with it, I think XD. Anyway. He likes calm people, those who are able to get through and balance his kinda neurotic tendencies. Also blue and green eyes. and a nice ass. Good choice, Jimmy.

42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition?Desden: to be left alone to live his life the way he wants with the least inconvenience. He would however sacrifice anything for family (blood or not blood related - family is broad). After whining about it for days or weeks - and even after it’s done he would continue complaining about it. His secret ambition? He’d like to be a recognized cook. But it’s not an easy thing and just by friends and family is already a lot. Diane: she has a relatively similar goal in life - which is one of the things that brought them together with Desden. She doesn’t have big dreams or the like, just to live in a nice and cozy place and do what she likes. And books. Lots of books. No secret ambition for her. And the furthest away from her sisters as she can. She would sacrifice everything… for her own sake. She’s got that self preservation going strong. But maybe… if she loves someone enough, that self preservation could extend to them. Cause they’re part of them, somehow. Jimmy : well Jimmy wants to find his body and have it returned to his mom. This is his sole obsession when we meet him and it will stay that way. He would (and has) sacrifice everything for his little brother only.

Pheewww that was long. I hope you’re liking my answers lol. Thank you again !!! :D Super detailed OC asks

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volumes2lo-gan · 6 years

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Hey. Sorry to bother you. Virgil is an anti villain (like deadpool) and the others try to convince him to take more of a moral approach by becoming a superhero. Virgil's roommate Roman complains to him about the villain, neither one realising the other is the opposing force(?) sorry if this is confusing. Thank you! I love your writing!

Wow I love this?? I hope this is what you were looking for, thanks for the great prompt!

A Super Pain in the Ass

Fandom: Sanders Sides (superhero!au, college!au)Pairings: Prinxiety (roommates and nemeses of sorts)Warnings: Slight violence

Summary: Roman can fly and Virgil can teleport, but these heroes can’t even figure out that they’re a lot closer than they think.

Tagged: @existental-crises @jordisama @here-to-vent @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @novagalaxy4real @thomas-must-get-to-sleep @emo-space-trash @evanisonfire @lollingtothemax @all-the-fand0mz

Roman was getting really sick of dealing with this guy. He’d heard over the police scanners that there was a heist in progress and had flown over immediately only to find all of the bad guys strung upsidedown hanging from the bank’s lavish chandelier. By the time he’d gotten there, the rope that was holding them up was nearly as thin as twine and ready to snap at any moment. He’d hurriedly gotten them down and placed them safely on the floor. Once he’d made sure that their bindings were fastened, he headed out, giving the police officers a polite nod as he took to the skies.

Virgil had just about had it with these crooks. People had so many names for them- heist men, robbers, cat burglars- but when it came down to it, thieves were thieves and they deserved to be punished for their crimes. He hadn’t even given it a second thought as he bound the three men to the chandelier of the bank they’d been trying to rob. His teleportation power made it easy enough to bring them up to the enormous fixture that hung two stories above the ground. He was sure to tie them up nice and tight before grinning and giving them a swift kick off the ledge. They’d bounced slightly as the rope pulled itself taut and he’d wondered momentarily if their necks could break from the whiplash. He crouched at the top of the chandelier for a moment to survey the damage and once he was sure that they were probably all breathing, he vanished into thin air.

He reappeared in a small shack next to his campus’ soccer field and turned on a small light he’d hidden as he grasped for his tote bag he’d stowed away. After changing back into street clothes, he fiddled with the door’s latch for a second before swinging the door open and stumbling out. Luckily the field was empty because he’d gotten sick of coming up with excuses for why he hung out in a darkened equipment shack. He slowly trudged his way back to his dorm, bitterly mumbling to himself about having to walk. He couldn’t risk being found out, though, not with his style of crime fighting. He’d had so many heroes confront him over the past couple of years telling him that he had so much potential to be a good guy. If only he’d just fight on the side of the angels. But they were wrong, he was fighting on the side of the angels; he just didn’t see why he had to fight like an angel to fight for them.

After making it up four flights of stairs, albeit skipping past two in the middle, he reached his floor and made his way to his room. The door was slightly ajar and he felt panic course through his veins as he eased the door open slowly. His heart raced, pulse pounding in his ears, until he noticed the figure lying on a bed in front of him.

“Roman! You nearly scared me shitless, what’re you doing leaving the door open like that?” Virgil huffed, slamming the door shut behind him to make a point. Roman rolled over on his bed with a languid groan.

“It’s been a loooong day, Virge, gimme a break.” Virgil rolled his eyes and tossed his bag onto his own bed.

“Yeah, well I’ve had a long day too and you don’t see me complaining.” He sat down at his desk to turn on his computer. As it booted up, he looked over at his roommate again, this time filled with curiosity.

“What was it this time?”

“Just some guy who thinks he’s being funny.” He complained, throwing a pillow over his face.

“I mean, that’s kinda how the job works,” Virgil mused, typing on his computer absently. “What did you think would happen when you started using your powers? Magical solutions to all your problems and a key to the city?” Roman rolled his wrist dramatically as if to say Yuh doy and Virgil snorted.

“Damn, you are so conceited sometimes.” Roman made a noise of indignation and chucked his pillow at Virgil’s head.

“Yeah, well at least I’m honest! I still don’t know whether you’re super or not and that’s not fair.” Virgil laughed again, throwing the pillow back onto the bed.

“I didn’t ask you to come share the fact that you have powers with me, you know. You just straight up told me, so that’s on you. Plus I don’t even know what your powers are. And I– no, that’s not an invitation to tell me– I don’t want to know. That ruins the fun of guessing.”

Roman groaned again and rolled over onto his side to face the window. “Well fine, maybe our paths will cross some day.”

Virgil smiled. “Yeah, maybe.”

#logan writes #quick fic #wow I love this au #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #roommates au #college au #superhero au #fics #my fic #prompts #prompt fic #queue

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