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liquorisce · 2 years ago

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i dreamed i left you [3]

pairing: eren x mikasa

rating: E | read on ao3 | chap 1

Eren

I used to think red was Mikasa’s colour. Maybe it’s because when I saw her for the first time she was wearing a red sweater. It was one of those oversized things that drowned her, the skinny legs of a teenage girl clad in leggings underneath it. Fifteen-year-old me wasn’t very quick about most things, but when I look back on it now, I think I’d burned that image of her into the back of my mind. Long black hair with little braids on the sides, and striking grey eyes like I’d never seen.

She sat behind Armin in class and joined our table for lunch. Well, to be honest, I guess I was the one who joined their table because it seemed like she and Armin had been going to that spot for a long time. I’d known Armin from before— his grandfather was one of those politicians my dad had in his pocket— and we used to hang out sometimes at family lunches and such, where he just looked awkward and out of place, and I was just annoyed. I remember wondering why he’d never mentioned her to me before. Maybe Armin had a sense it wouldn’t have ended well. Smart fucker.

She’d looked at me curiously when she approached the table, somewhat shy through her bangs, and waited for Armin to introduce her. “Ah right.” Armin cleared his throat. “Eren, this is Mikasa. Mikasa Ackerman.” And then he said this somewhat protectively, a strange look in his eyes. “She’s my best friend. So be nice to her, yeah?”

I’d huffed and rolled my eyes because that was kind of my vibe back then. I was an insufferable little shit, basically. I had things going on, that was my excuse— my father kept me and my mom in a plush house like we were a dirty secret, we couldn’t go anywhere without his big gun-flashing thugs (security, he called it), yet the main family wanted nothing to do with us. I called it a secret but everybody knew about us, and not just in the mafia world. Even at school I saw the wide eyes and heard the whispers.

Isn’t that the bastard son?

I heard Grisha Jaeger was having an affair, can’t believe he’s flaunting it so brazenly.

I hated it; I was too young to have known any better, my mother’s wish to have me live a “normal” life was utterly pointless. Transferring to a public school in a district controlled by the Jaegers basically ensured that my life would be anything but normal. But Grisha wanted us close to him, apparently. And back then Grisha used to get what he wanted. My mother could never say no to him, anyway.

Mikasa had stuck her hand out to me then, sweetly, and said, “Oh hush, Armin. He seems nice enough.” She smiled at me then, for the first time, a shy, small curve of her lips. “It’s nice to meet you, Eren.” I couldn’t help thinking, even back then, even when I had barely known her, that her hand fit quite nicely in mine.

Sliding the car into my garage, I turn to my pretty passenger, her head lolling against the window, passed out in the leather seat. The red gash on her cheek looks angrier than it had when I’d first seen it. Blood streaked down her cheek. It makes my blood boil, makes me want to put a bullet in the head of the motherfucker who did this. (I will, when I get my hands on him.)

I used to think red was Mikasa’s colour; now I couldn’t stand the sight of it.

I shift her head away from the window carefully, and head over to the passenger side to gather her in my arms. She lets out a little groan and instinctively, I press her closer to me. She feels soft in my arms. She always was… When we were sixteen and I held her for the first time, and now seven years later, when she’s no longer mine. I can smell the coconut from that damn shampoo she always uses, and it fills my nostrils the same way all these other ridiculous, pointless thoughts fill my head. Like she was in me— like she never left.

As I drop her on the guest room bed she murmurs something unintelligible, and my eyes fall on the gash on her cheek again. Gritting my teeth, I run my fingertips along her cheekbone.

Typing out a quick text, I reach for the first aid kit. It was admittedly better stocked than a regular first aid kit, but I’ve never really had the patience to pay attention while I was getting stitched up. I should wait for somebody more qualified for the job… But the sight of blood on her makes me feel sick, so I gather some gauze and disinfectant.

I swear I’m trying to be gentle, but she jerks under my touch, fidgeting and turning away from the cotton swab. There’s a twisting, ugly, feeling in the pit of my stomach as I watch her grimace in her sleep. She must’ve been in so much pain if she just passed out like that. “Mikasa, it’s just me, babe,” I tell her quietly, “... Just gotta clean you up a little bit.”

I almost wince when I hear myself. It’s hard being around her; things just slip out of my mouth and no matter how much I want to I can’t reach out and stuff them back in. Just like that night in the club when I had her in my arms… She’d folded so sweetly, so naturally, I felt like I’d lost my fucking head. I can’t remember it, exactly, but I swear I must have promised her the world.

Not that it mattered to her, of course.

She moans softly, a low, pained sound that lit the match to the fury uncoiling inside of me. “‘Ren…”

I flinch, hearing my name from her mouth. It’s probably the worst reaction I can have, but it goes straight to my cock. It’s an honest-to-god involuntary reaction, but I can feel it in my blood, the heat. What kind of sicko do you have to be to get turned on when your girl is wounded in your arms?

Zeke would tell me it’s in my blood. You’re a Jaeger, he’d say. You were born sick. He’d smile his shitty smile, shrug his damn shoulders and take a puff from his omnipresent cigarette and tell me to fucking accept it.

I don’t know if he’s right— Maybe the shit I’ve done has changed my wiring a little bit. Set some screws loose. My hands are stained with blood up to my elbows, no way that doesn’t fuck you up a little. But a tiny voice in my brain tells me he might have a point. Dad was fucked up. Zeke is… well he’s messed up to the point where he won’t let his little brother see it. He says it’s the only good thing he can guarantee anymore, protecting me from his ugliness.

Sometimes I worry about him, but ever since Mikasa was targeted I don’t have any bandwidth left for it. See, maybe he was right after all. Maybe that’s the kind of sick that I was— sick for as long as I can remember; obsessed and angry and fixated on things that I have no control over.

Thankfully the door opens just then and Hange is here to save me from myself. “Don’t squeal,” I mutter harshly. ”She’s sleeping.”

Hange’s eyes glimmer with excitement upon seeing Mikasa. The crazy doctor would have just plopped on the bed and hugged Mikasa to death without a care in the world if I hadn’t stopped them. It’s a mystery how they even got their license.

Well, it isn’t a mystery, to be honest. We’re not really much for rules, in our world.

“So what brings the Princess back to her tower?” Hange grins at me, using a nickname I absolutely despised. I had no idea how old Hange was, they’d been around for as long as I can remember, and somehow they’d always been this annoying. In fact, it had only gotten worse with age. “As you can see,” I say, my patience growing thin, “She was attacked.”

And somehow, to my utmost irritation, they continue to watch me, amused, instead of tending to Mikasa. Which was what I’d called them for. “And you?”

“I’m fine.” And Mikasa wasn’t. She’d literally fucking passed out mid-sentence—

“Your Princess will be fine, Eren.” Hange rolls their eyes. They fucking rolled their eyes! “Your cut, on the other hand, which, cute bandage by the way–”

“Hange.” I cut them off, exasperated. “Just fix her up for fuck’s sake. I don’t want to see a drop of blood on her.”

They sighed. Reached out and ruffled my hair. If it wasn’t for the fact that Mikasa was here in this room, injured and resting, I’m fairly certain I might have shot that grin off of their face. “Always so demanding, Eren.” They tilted Mikasa’s head gingerly, surveying the damage. “You know you haven’t changed. Always pouting, even when you were a kid—”

“Hange.”

“Okay, let’s just quickly make sure it’s nothing major…” They skim their hands over Mikasa’s skull, shaking out her arms, and feeling her ribs as well. “No broken bones as far as I can see!”

“Oi, be gentle with her. Stop moving her around so much.”

Hange rolls their eyes, not uttering the smart remark that no doubt rests at the tip of their tongue. Instead, they turn their attention towards the cut on Mikasa’s cheek. Hange is unnervingly quiet as picks out a microscopic glass to survey the injury. They don’t say anything, It’s driving me insane.

“… You’re breathing.”

What? “… I am.”

“Stop.”

“I’m fucking human, Hange. Of course, I’m going to fucking breathe. What do you even want from me?”

Hange looks at me the way my political science teacher in high school did. Like I’m a fucking idiot, and they need to be patient with me. I hate it. “There is a very tiny piece of shrapnel stuck in your girlfriend’s—“

I can hear a sharp intake of breath. It’s probably mine.

“— cheek. I would like not to have you breathing on my neck while I take it out, so I don’t fuck this up.”

“I’m not breathing on your neck.” I grit out. “And don’t fuck this up.” And she isn’t my girlfriend.

“Eren.” Hange’s in parent mode now. They’ve levelled up, as if I’m a petulant child that needs to be taken care of. Like when I was seven, stealing cookies when I knew I’d get a sugar rush. “She’s going to be fine. She’s passed out from exhaustion but the pain will probably wake her up if I’m not careful enough.”

“It’ll probably hurt a lot even if you are careful, no?” The wound looks awful.

Hange looks at me pityingly.

“Just give her something for the pain.”

“Ok, I will. But you get out. I can’t work with you being all broody behind me. Performance anxiety.” They point to the door like I’m being punished for distracting the class.

I could throw a fucking tantrum right now, seeing as I’m head of the family and all that. Point a gun, enforce the rule that is mine to enforce… but Hange is an exasperating force of nature, so I give in and head to the balcony instead. “Be quick with it,” I tell them gruffly.

Gripping the balcony rails, I feel an unfamiliar itch in my chest. It’s not that I didn’t trust Hange… It’s that Mikasa wasn’t supposed to be in that position in the first place. I’d dreamt about her coming back here every night since she left me, but this wasn’t how I’d imagined it. Not for the first time, she’d been targeted, and I’d win any bet that it was because of me. That’s what this life does to people— pulls them in and spits them out bloody and bruised. If they’re lucky they make it out alive.

My mother wasn’t that lucky.

Mikasa knew this, I’m sure she did. She knew it when we were together, knew it when we decided to give this a shot, and I saw it all over her face when I caught her with a suitcase at the threshold of my apartment. I can’t be a part of this anymore, she’d told me. And no matter how torn up I was after she left, I couldn’t begrudge her. I’d begged my mom to leave every single day until I was old enough to realise that it was too late for her.

Who the fuck wants a target on their heads just for some guy? She’d probably find another man who’d do a better job of keeping her safe by simply not putting her in danger at all.

Just the thought of it makes my palms itch for blood.

I’d given it an honest shot once, the whole “let the love of your life go for her own good” thing. Guess I was never any good at it. Mikasa and I— we’d both known it— were always a doomed story. I’d seen first-hand what being involved with a Made Man could get you, and it almost always ended up at the end of a gun barrel. Whatever happens, I know I’ll never let that happen to Mikasa, that’s the only thing I’m sure of in this life. For the longest time, I even tried to stay away, and watched her date in college. It was probably the most excruciating pain I’d ever been through in my whole life. I’d managed a good four years without pulling a weapon on any of them, so I considered it a success.

And this was after I’d known what it was like to feel her skin against mine, hot and sweat-slick. I want this with you, she’d said to me one night, dressed in her black ball gown, lips inches from mine, as we sat in my car, two streets away from her house. I wasn’t very strong where Mikasa was concerned, and the kiss we’d shared one year earlier had haunted me every night since. It was everything I could do to restrain myself from consuming her sweet mouth to ask, “… this is a bad idea, Mikasa. Are you sure?”

“We’re just kids,” she’d said. She’d sounded so confident, like she knew what she wanted. And she wanted me. That fact in itself made me weak. “How bad can it be?”

Fuck. This is what she does to me, gets me all dazed and sentimental, full of feverish dreams of what could have been. It’s a weakness I can’t afford.

When I turn around, trying to shake off my thoughts, I see Zeke’s pale gaze boring into me.

“What the fuck?” I am more startled than annoyed, but this isn’t the first time Zeke has crept up on me like that, like the creep that he is. I’ve gotten better, and more alert since I started training with him, but he has this unnerving ability to sneak up on anyone silently. It’s a useful weapon but annoying as fuck when you want some privacy.

He looks at me amused, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Want one?”

I reach for the proffered stick and light it. “Enabling me since 2018,” I tell him dryly after I exhale. It helps the clawing sensation in my chest. Hange says it’s anxiety and that cigarettes are a placebo for therapy but I can’t imagine a high-functioning Don talking about his feelings to a shrink.

“Hey, I respected it when you said you wanted to quit,” he says. “Respected it when you gave up on that too.”

I elbow him between the ribs. I gave it an honest shot, to be honest. Mikasa never liked it very much. And when she was around it was easy to resist them. Then eventually she wasn’t around to care. Guess I was just swapping one addiction for another.

“Look at you,” he teases as I glare at him. This is Zeke’s nature. Teasing, grinning about things that normal people wouldn’t really smile about. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t know how to be sad anymore. Like he took that emotion and expression and stamped it out under his boot like his cigarette buds. “Even Kruger wouldn’t have been this unhappy if someone had laid a finger on his stolen Vermeer.”

My jaw clenches. “She’s not a fucking painting.”

“Indeed,” he says, slowly, taking a drag. “She could be. You should commission one— I’m sure it would be stunning.”

“Zeke. Shut the fuck up.” It pisses me off. Zeke has always been cavalier about my relationship with her, even when we didn’t really have one. And now even after we did. He’s always said these things to her too— “You look pretty, Mikasa.” “That dress suits you.” “Did you try something new with your hair?” It annoyed the fuck out of me. Even though I knew it was dumb. Even though I knew he wouldn’t try anything with her. He has varied taste, and he’s into weird things, but if there’s anyone I could ever trust with her, it’s him. He’d take care of her. For me, I think. He does things, for me. It’s weird to explain.

Still pisses me off though.

“You think it’s those fuckers from Maria?”

Zeke looks thoughtful. “What’s Mikasa got to do with them? Did she get involved with someone or—“ he breaks out laughing.

“Your face,” he says. Apparently, I’m hilarious now. “It’s my side job, didn’t you hear? Circus clown by day, mobster by night.” Im not laughing though.

“She’s not involved with anybody,” I say irritably.

Zeke raises his palms as if to say he isn’t going to question me. “What happened, exactly? I just got a text that there’d been an attack.”

“She got shot in her bedroom. Sniper. Probably stationed on the opposite roof.” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Didn’t you have security watching her?”

“I did.” I grit my teeth. “He obviously wasn’t watching very well, was he.”

Zeke stubs out his cigarette. “Poor guy, I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes right now.” He pinches my cheek. “Wah Eren, such a scary face.” And he laughs again.

My hands are itching for my gun. One bullet for the asshole who was sleeping on the job and another for this brother of mine who never lets go of an opportunity to make fun of me.

“She’ll be okay, Eren.” He watches me softly. “Hange’s taking care of her, isn’t she?”

I don’t say anything. What can I say? Yeah, Hange will make sure she gets better— I’ll make sure she isn’t harmed ever again. But it doesn’t change the fact that she was. She was hurt, and she was almost hurt terribly— that shooter who followed her in the store was definitely after her— And it wasn’t the first time she was targeted either. Won’t be the last. Once again I am reminded of how it was most likely because of me.

Once again, I am reminded that I knew this would happen and that I should have been prepared. I knew it when I fell in love with her, when I was 16, and she found me outside the kitchen after my initiation smoking my first cigarette. Knew it when I asked if I could kiss her, and she let me. I knew it when I took her to the Graduation dance— as friends— and I had my hands around her waist in front of everybody.

Knew it four years later, when she called me that fateful night and said Eren, I need you.

Knew it later that night when she clung on to my body, and I called upon every ounce of restraint I had to tell her, that if we gave into this, she would be mine. There was no going back.

Mikasa Ackerman, Eren Jaeger’s girl, the Don’s lover.

I hated it. Every single second that I put my hands on her when we were together, it was an imprint— she was mine now, a part of me that roamed outside my body. A weakness. A target.

But I was in love, wasn’t I? I’d become what I hated most, my father’s son. Ruined an innocent woman’s life because I couldn't resist myself. And here I am, after a lifetime of hating him for the same reason, doing the same fucking thing.

I flicked the bud onto the floor, crushing it with my shoe.

“Can you check in with Lin? He was supposed to be keeping watch.” It’s better Zeke does it. I’ll make it unnecessarily bloody and emotional. Zeke can keep it bloody and simple. He nods.

Hange pops their head in. “Sleeping beauty is awake. But only for a few mins, before the medication kicks in. Come on.”

…

She blinks up at me when I enter the room. There are small white stitches across a faint line, that Hange tells me will definitely scar. The rest of her is as perfectly made up as she was this morning. When she was at the theatre, attending an audition of some sort. Details I shouldn’t know.

She looks delirious, eyes glazed, tears on her lashes, lips chapped. “Ere-n?” She says my name in a breath, the last letter vanishing on her tongue, and it’s my favourite sound, really. I’ve heard it so many times— made her say it so many times, when neither of us was in pain, when I’d made her feel so so good.

“You’re here.”

Like I wouldn’t be. I’d be anywhere she is, all the damn time, if she’d allow me. But she sounds positive, not like she’s unhappy to see me, the way she was earlier on the street, so I cheat a little bit and brush my fingers against her cheek. The one that wasn’t swollen and injured. “I’m here, baby.”

“Thank God,” she breathes. “I don’t know— I can’t—“ she clears her throat. “Hange says I might be slightly concussed because I got hurt, but a good day’s rest should help with things.”

She laughs, somewhat self-deprecatingly. “I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into this time.”

God, I want to murder the bastard who did this to her. “Hange’s usually right,” I say, continuing to stroke her chin. I want to kiss her so badly. I want to crush her in my arms and tell her she didn’t do anything to get hurt like this. That I’d never let her get hurt like this ever again.

She looks straight into my eyes, and it’s getting harder by the second to resist myself. Her fingers curl around my hand. “Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay with me?”

I don’t even have to think. “Yeah, of course, Mikasa.” Where the fuck would I go? To start tearing through the city for clues perhaps, but not when she looked this vulnerable. Zeke could get a head start anyway. He’d be more level-headed than me. Less destructive.

She wiggles a little bit, makes some room on the bed. “I mean, next to me.” She gestures to the space beside her.

This is a bad idea. I know it with my entire being. I know that once she is off her meds she will regret it entirely, and kick me off the bed herself. But I’m an asshole, apparently, a selfish one. “Whatever you want, babe.” And I mould myself beside her, lying on my side, so I can lay one arm around her waist, hold her close to me.

I can feel her breath on my neck. She’s breathing hard. “Are you okay? Does it hurt? Is it uncomfortable?”

She shakes her head, no. I can feel the movement against my skin, her nose burrowing into my collarbones. Instinctively, my hold on her tightens. Her hand reaches up to my chest, fingers clutching my shirt. It would take absolutely nothing to lean down and kiss her. To suck her lower lip into mine and taste her mouth again. It’s embarrassing how much I want it. But my ego is surprisingly submissive when I have her in my arms like this, the faint smell of her sweat and perfume laced with antiseptic, playing games with my restraint. No, who am I kidding? I haven’t ever really been one for restraint anyway. Zeke badgers me about it all the time; to slow down, to think before acting, but it’s not in me. I’ve been told I’m a bit of a short fuse, and where Mikasa is concerned, I think I’m truthfully a little bit insane.

Her lips brush against my neck, mouth moving slowly. It goes straight to my dick. “Did you…” My mouth is dry. “Did you say something, Mikasa?”

“Mm-hmm.” And then quietly, she says, “... I was having bad dreams.” Her arms wrap around me. A part of me is screaming in confusion, but the larger, more shameless part doesn’t care about whatever had transpired between us in the past months.

I stroke her hair, trying to suppress the guilt that wells up within me. “About what happened earlier today?”

She shakes her head. “No, Eren— I—” She looks up at me, pupils glazed, distraught, clearly upset by whatever she’d seen. Like she’d been suffering so much pain. I wanted to reach inside of her and snuff it out… if she’d let me, I’d destroy anything that ever made her unhappy.

“... I dreamed I left you.”

I can feel my heart in my throat. She buries her head in my chest. “It’s just bad dreams, babe,” I murmur, hoping she wouldn’t notice the utter lack of conviction. “I’m right here, no?” I allow myself a kiss to the top of her head. “And so are you.”

“Mm-hmm.” She’s shaking. Shock, I suppose. Maybe she’s just processing what happened today.

“You should rest, Mikasa.” Her fingers clutch the front of my shirt. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Her head lifts up towards me, her lips millimetres from mine.

I give in and let myself brush against them as I whisper, “Yeah.” It’s the barest of touches, my lips against hers, so chaste compared to what we’ve had in the past. But it lights up every single nerve ending in my body. “Promise.”

…

Mikasa

I feel warm. As if I’m wrapped in a blanket of body heat. There’s a weight on my belly, and the smell of something I know so familiarly, it makes my heart ache.

I don’t even have to turn my gaze to know it’s him. I swear, I could forget my own name but I’d never forget the way he smelled. Like comfort, like home… Like Eren. He’s wrapped all around me, one arm thrown tightly around my torso, pulling me to him, the rest of him moulded to my side. I feel like I need the courage to do it; to turn towards him, but I do. His eyes are closed, breathing steady, absolutely peaceful.

Ha, that’s funny. I don’t think a lot of people would ever use the word peaceful to describe Eren. Not really what you’d think of your resident mafioso. But then again not many people have seen Eren like I have. Before all the… chaos. Before he bloodied his hands.

There’s a bruise blooming on his nose, like someone’s hit him some days ago and it’s healing in different shades. His knuckles are busted, and there’s an awfully done-up bandage on his waist.

A dull ache spreads inside of my body and I suck in a deep breath. I can feel the teardrops rolling down my cheeks, no matter how much I try to hold them in. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it so much. It comes back to me slowly, the haze clearing up from my head as I remember what happened earlier in the day. I remember that he came for me, just as I was calling for him. Chased me into a store when I was being a stubborn idiot, and probably got shot in the process. He hadn’t even flinched, I think. Nestled me beneath him, so I wouldn’t get hurt. It’s nothing, he’d told me when I used the fabric of my top to soak up the blood. None of this ever feels like anything to him; he lives life from one bullet to another, with some knife wounds and broken fingers for variety.

It’s like he taunts death with a red flag, offering up his life for whoever wants to take it.

I can’t think straight when it comes to you, he told me once. If somebody tries to hurt you, I’ll kill them. He said it was like the most natural thing. Like he was asking me out for ice cream on a summer morning. Like I just had to understand this madness.

This hurts me too, you know, I told him then. And he looked at me confused. You getting hurt. Because of me.

He rolled his eyes and brushed it off. I don’t think he really took me seriously then. It’s incredible because sometimes he spoils me with attention, but other times he doesn’t see what’s right in front of him.

He’s an idiot sometimes, Eren.

I watch him as he sleeps, a soft exhale hitting my cheek. The first time I saw Eren, I thought he was a pretty boy. That’s what I told Armin. The new boy’s pretty. Don’t you think?

Armin agreed. Back then Eren looked different. He was fifteen, just like I was, with short, unruly hair that he never really gelled down, falling softly onto his forehead. He was skinnier too, didn’t have all these scars. His lips were pink, soft, untouched by cigarette smoke. His lashes are still the same though. Long and thick and pretty. A strand of his hair— now longer, having escaped his bun— falls across his face. And just as I contemplate moving it, if only to have an excuse to touch his face, his eyes flutter open.

Oh. I’d forgotten. His eyes were the same too. Green like the grass we used to sit on after school. Me, Eren and Armin, Talking about everything and nothing. Armin with his head in a book, Eren talking about how he hated everything his family stood for, and me… just thinking he was pretty. I used to be a bit silly back then. Stupidly in love. Now… Well, I guess that bit hasn’t changed very much.

“You’re awake,” he says, voice rough with sleep. It makes me feel faint. It used to be the first thing I heard every morning. Makes me wonder why I gave it up.

“Mm-hmm.” He smiles, sleepily, his eyes drifting shut again. Subconsciously he pulls me closer to him and brushes a kiss to the side of my face.

It’s nice, this play-pretend, this moment, the warmth of him around me. We can pretend Eren isn’t bandaged up, I wasn’t shot at earlier today, and that I didn’t leave him six months ago. But because I have always been adept at ruining good things, I turn my cheek when his mouth drifts closer to the edge of my lips. His eyes widen.

It takes a second for him to wake up fully, I think. No way he would have kissed me like that if he’d been fully conscious. Pride, ego, something-something. It’s fine, it was easier for me, that way.

“How are you feeling?” He asks carefully. Subtly, he has distanced himself from me, putting the slightest bit of distance between our bodies and it just makes the pain worse.

“Sore,” I say, my voice sounding like a croak. He extracts himself from my body and slides off the bed. He watches me guiltily. I wonder if my disappointment is evident on my face. “But mostly fine.”

“Doesn’t hurt?”

I shake my head. It makes a weird ringing noise inside, which I guess isn’t normal. None of this is. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to have found myself in his arms again, magically. God, I really was an idiot. The smallest sign of adversity and I went flailing to him like a damsel in distress. “Naw. I guess Hange took care of that.”

Eren rummages through the wrappers in the trash can. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “They did. It’ll hit you like a truck in the next six hours.”

I sit up straight, trying to wiggle out the soreness of my arms. Perhaps the soreness was just from my sleep posture. I’d woken up twisted around Eren, like some kind of sloth clinging on to a tree. “I think I’ll be okay.” I lift a finger to my cheek which feels a bit frozen. I can feel the texture of sutures on my skin. I slip my legs out of the blanket and stretch for my shoes.

“Where are you going?”

I try to choose my words carefully. “I should um—“ I am hesitating because I already know his reaction. “I have Armin’s keys—“

“He can come get them.”

His gaze falls to mine, dark and unflinching. I sigh. “Eren…”

“Mikasa.” I do up my shoes and reach for my bag. He shifts slightly towards the door, leaning back against it. God, this man was frustrating.

“I really, really appreciate you coming for me. After everything I did—“ I’m choking up. I don’t want to go there. I feel vulnerable as is, the way I am right now this man would reduce whatever resolve I have to nothing. “I should go back. There’s a mess in Armin’s room and I don’t want him to see it when he comes back—“

“You were attacked. I highly doubt your best friend is concerned about the mess in his house right now.”

“It’s not exactly a mess, per se.” I shudder thinking of the sight. “There was, um.” I let out an exhale. “A message for me. In blood. And come on, Eren, nobody deserves to see that, it’s scary as hell—“

“There’s a what?” His eyes glint dangerously green.

Right, I forgot that we never managed to cover that detail until now. “You don’t know?”

“Contrary to what you believe, I don’t have cameras set up everywhere you go.” He looks annoyed. “There’s a message, you say?”

I nod. “It said ‘You owe me.’ I think it was written in blood of some kind.”

He watches me emotionlessly. “And you’re sure it was meant for you?”

“Considering she was followed right after and shot at, I think it was definitely meant for Mikasa.” Startled, I look up to see Eren’s brother lurking at the doorway. There’s a tick in Eren’s jaw. “You’ve looked better, love,” Zeke tells me, giving me a kind smile.

“Thought you were going to speak with Lin,” Eren says, pointedly.

“I did.” Eren glares at him for another second and then backs off, huffing in annoyance.

The whole exchange is somewhat cryptic. They tend to have this language between them, these brothers. Even when Eren and I were on better terms I barely understood it.

“Well now that it’s established,” Eren says to me, “Guess you’re not going anywhere.”

“What?” What?

He pins his gaze on me, hot and stubborn. “There’s a weirdo after you. Where the fuck do you want to go?”

“I—“ I don’t know why I feel flustered all of a sudden. “Well, I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

“Eren.” I am pleading with my voice, my eyes, willing him to understand. We used to understand each other, didn’t we? There was no way I could stay in this house another minute, this close to him, without suffering that horrible pain of knowing what we’d become.

“Don’t look so desperate, Mikasa.” He sounds almost disgusted. “I’m not such a lowlife, to ravage you in this state. You can have your room. I’ll sleep somewhere else.”

His words are harsh but the heat rises in my cheeks, just as I feel my heart sinking. Eren has a unique way of opening up wounds that he’s tended to personally and pressing against them. “Besides, you made your position pretty clear. Stay here until I’m done with the fucker who came after you and then you’re free to go wherever you want.”

“Eren.” I sound meek, but only because it’s hard saying these things to him. It’s hard listening to him talk to me like that, like he wants nothing to do with me. Like I’m some kind of obligation he needs to take care of. “Please, you don’t have to—“

“You’re not leaving here, Mikasa.” His tone was sharp, controlled, with no room for argument. I gape at him, shocked. I resented his authoritarian tone with every fibre of my being. “Not until I say so.” There’s a sharp retort on the tip of my tongue. He can’t hold me here like some kind of captive, I’ll go wherever the hell I want.

I look at Zeke to see if it was just me bearing witness to this madness but all I got was an apologetic smile. I turn back to Eren to tell him he’s rightfully out of his mind, but the timbre in his gaze stops me. When I look at him now, I can’t see Eren, the messy boy I fell in love with in high school; I can only see a Don. And I’m not really sure I know how to deal with him.

#eremika #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #aot #liquorisce fanfiction #mafia au

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microwaveexplosion · 1 year ago

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My Dream Last Night

This isn’t a joke, or based off of a writing prompt, or a “what if” idea I had. This is an actual dream my brain produced while I was asleep, and that I then had to wake up and process in my life. I just wanted to share it with everybody.

So in this dream, I was an assistant/intern for the Supernanny. I don’t remember much of the first half of the dream, just that she was going around doing consultations and I was just standing nearby listening. She was wearing jeans and a gray T-Shirt that said “Thank You For Watching…” as a play off both the TV show, but if you read it while she was wearing it you were watching her then. I guess? I was also wearing jeans and a gray T-Shirt so people would know I was with her crew but mine just said “Thanks” which was also a joke, because I was supposed to go get stuff for her like water or snacks and she could just point at my shirt when I brought it.

The second half of the dream is much more vivid. First of all, she was doing her show in tandem with a murder documentary show. Instead of the “in a room to discuss it later” style the Supernanny show is actually in, instead it was done documentary-style, where the person walks around talking, like Philomena Cunk.

First: Re-enactment style film of a family of 4 (Dad, Mom, 2 elementary-school age daughters) in a metal rowboat on a lake. The deep male voiceover from Forensic Files says,

“A family of four takes a camping trip to a lake.”

As the family gets in the boat (that can barely fit all 4 of them) on a sunny day and pushes it out into the water. The dad is a hefty dude with short brown hair that looks perpetually harassed, the mom is Midwest brand, with blue eyes and a Meg Ryan blonde haircut, the older daughter is 9 or 10 with brown hair, and the younger daughter is 6 or 7 with blonde hair.

“They didn’t bring a tent, so they sleep in the boat.”

This is announced as if it is a normal decision some families may make while camping. They do this like some sort of Russian doll sleeping set up, all facing up, with the Dad laying down, Mom on him, oldest daughter on her, and youngest daughter on her. There is about 3 feet of room left empty below the youngest daughter’s feet. A camera shot of this in the dark night.

“They wake up in the middle of the night, and the boat is starting to fill with water.”

The top half with the people is fine, but the lower half beneath the younger daughter’s feet is indeed half full of water.

“Dad! There’s water in the boat!” the youngest girl says. It is still dark out, but the sky is lightening, it’s probably about 5am. The Mom gasps. The Dad says, grumpily, “Shit.”

“But this wasn’t the biggest problem. They spot - another pair of feet - in the water.”

“Dad there’s feet!” the youngest daughter says. Indeed there are 2 adult-sized feet, sticking out from under the boat, splayed out as if yet another person was in the Russian doll laying set up, but underneath both the Dad and boat. The oldest daughter yells, “Ew, Dad!” The Mom says “Oh my God!” the Dad said, harrassedly, “G**dammit!” and sighs deeply.

“Who is this person? The family doesn’t know them. They didn’t bring anyone else on their camping trip.”

Suddenly it is full morning, and the family is out of the boat already, and on the shore. The boat is still on top of the dead body, and there is nothing to see of it but the feet sticking out the bottom. In the light we can now see that they are barely “camping”. There is a sizeable white 2-story farmhouse on land. The “lake” is shaped like an L that wraps around two sides of the house. In the dream I inherently know that it is an Air B-n-B type rental they rented for vacation, and they just chose to sleep on the water for the “camping experience” of it all I guess. Also, now that everything is not pitch black night, we can see that the water is approximately 3 feet deep, making it more of a pond.

I am standing on the shore, next to the front entry of the house - with Supernanny. The family is on the shore around the back of the house. The Forensic Files guy is in a black suit standing on the shore by the boat. There are no cameras, because the cameras are magic, and when either announcer starts talking, there is suddenly just camera view of it. When Supernanny does it, the camera is focused on her. When the Forensic Files guy does it, he is not filmed but there is a shot of what you would expect a FF episode re-enactment scene to show (so I don’t know why he’s in a suit).

The family has called for help by now, which is why we’re all here now. Supernanny tells me I’m not to do anything, that she’s going to talk to the family directly first, and then send the kids over to me while she talks to the parents, and when that happens I’m supposed to watch the kids, but NOT work with them or correct them on anything, because that is her job. She first stands by the corner of the house and starts “filming” with the magic camera (I am off screen) and she does that documentary thing where she puts her hands together and uses them to gesture, and is saying,

“What happens when a family finds a dead body in a lake? Can they hold it together? I’m going to help walk this family through their recent tragedy - and we’ll see how the kids behave.”

Then she leaves me standing on that part of the shore, and goes around to the back of the house, where I can’t see anything, but I can hear them a bit. I can hear her talking to the family in low voices, but can’t hear any words yet. The Forensic Files guy says (off doc, in a more regular voice),

“I need somebody to get this boat off the body so we can see it! I’m not getting in the water, I’m in my suit!”

The Dad grumbles and wades through his side of the pond over to the boat, and drags the boat a few feet so that the body is exposed. It is a blonde young woman in a yellow shirt and teal shorts, and it bobs over in the fetal position, so that it is facing the FF guy and I can only see the back. The Dad grumbles and wades his way back through the pond toward his family. I am sorry to say, we never care as much about this as we should. The *only* person who seems really stirred up by this is the Mom, who is emotional and traumatized, and just trying to hold it together.

I can hear them all better now and that kids are saying “Holy shit!” and “It’s really a real dead body, oh fuck!” “Mom did you see it!” “Dad that’s fucking gross!” and that Dad says, “It is fucking gross, I had to pull the boat off!”

Supernanny says firmly to the poor Mom, “And is this the kind of language your family always uses in situations like these?”

The shaken Mom says something like, “!! Well no! We - we’ve never been in a situation like this before…my kids have never seen a dead body! *I’ve* never seen a dead body!” She is trying not to cry.

Supernanny says, “Mm-hmm, well I think we need to work on this language first, because this isn’t acceptable, I’m sorry.” The Dad sighs heavily.

I’m feeling so bad for the Mom at this point, but it is my job to not do anything. The kids must have been told to come over to me, but instead of coming around the dry side of the house, they both come tearing through the water of the pond, past the body, to the side of land I am on. Behind me, for some reason, is a large driftwood tree. The kids both begin playing on it, climbing it and tearing pieces off of it.

They’re talking to me like, “Did you see this shit? Did you see the dead body?” “Holy fuck, we’ve never seen a dead body before. We’ve never even been *camping* before!” “I went camping before you were born.” “No you didn’t, I’m only two years younger than you asshole, you wouldn’t even remember it.” “Whatever bitch.” Neither seems actually angry at the other, and I am taken aback at how they’re speaking at a young age, but I am literally not allowed to correct them, so I just stand there with my mouth open.

I can’t hear what Supernanny is saying to the Mom exactly, but it is corrective points because I can hear snippets like “And we’re going to….and that’s when we say…and that’s how…” The Mom is now actively crying from shame and trauma. I feel so bad. I think of telling the kids “You’re kind of getting your Mom in trouble right now,” but I fear I will be fired, so I just say “Be careful on that tree.”

Supernanny and the parents come around the dry side of the house. She says, “Okay, we’ve done the first half. Let’s go inside,” and we all go inside the house. The Mom looks distraught. The entire family sits in the living room, where she is crying lightly, and the kids are swearing up a storm. Supernanny does not interact with this right now, because we are in the dining/kitchen area getting ready for another scene. She is calm and pleased with the progress of the show, unhampered by the dead person outside.

She takes off her gray “Thank You For Watching…” T Shirt, but has another gray T-Shirt underneath. She says

“Give me my shirt,” and from a bag I hand her a separate plain gray T-Shirt. I say

“Couldn’t you just wear the one you’re wearing?” and she looks at me like I am trash and, rolling her eyes at me, says, “No, this one I’m putting on is much nicer. I can’t wear the other one on television.” Like I am an idiot. They are they same shirt, the one she’s putting on now is just a little bit looser.

I can lightly hear the Forensic Files guy outside doing his shpeal, and see a few camera-moments of the dead body in the water, and the boat floating away from it.

“When the father moved the boat, it revealed a dead woman - in the water.”

I am feeling very concerned that there is not more freaking out about this or attempts to pull her out, because she looks about teenage. But I am the Supernanny intern, and she has me fold up the gray shirt that has words on it, and hold it out flat in my hands, like a serving tray. I am not to put it down and am to carry it around everywhere she goes, in case she wants to switch back into it for a scene. She is fixing her hair that got messed up when she changed shirts.

I hear a lot more voices outside. The FF guy calls out, “Yeah, we got a dead body over here.” The police and forensics crew have *just now* finally arrived, and are setting up the scene for investigation.

“Oh good, the police are here,” Supernanny says cheerfully, looking out the window. “It took them enough time.” The Mom is still crying while the kids tear up the living room, and I hold the T-Shirt out flat in my hands. Supernanny is ready to enter the living room and start “working with” the family. I am horrified but want to keep my job so say nothing.

The dream ends and I wake up to reality to cope with what I just dreamed.

#supernanny #dreams #tv show #reality show #unreality #Jo Frost #Forensic Files #documentary #I should get therapy I think #unconcious mind #tw:death #camping #lol #television #intern #hell #Joanne Frost #unrestrained summer fun

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bowdownbucky · 3 years ago

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𝐁𝐀𝐃, 𝐁𝐀𝐃, 𝐁𝐀𝐃 !

part 2 <3

summary: you have an encounter with your best friend’s brother bucky!

pairing: innocent! reader x college! bucky

warnings: cursing, asshole! steve rogers, kissing, drug use, oral (female receiving) fingering.

your heart began to beat heavily, bucky didn’t care that his sister was outside of the door but you started to feel guilty. this was so wrong of you and you didn’t even want to look at yourself. “you better answer her sweethear, she’s not gonna leave.” bucky taunts you, he hand trails your stomach, groping your breasts hard. “uh-im almost finished, i h-had to ohhh.” you slap you hand over your mouth, bucky smirks as he pinches you nipple again.

“what?” rebecca moved closer to the door. “are you okay? i’m coming in.” your eyes widens, you pushed bucky away and slowly cracked the door. “i’m f-fine, the um…pizza! the pizza went down the wrong hatch.” you lie. rebecca’s face screws up. “ew i did not need to know that y/n” you watch as she walks into her room. you close the door, leaning your head back onto the wooden frame.

you closed your eyes and hoped that this was all a dream, that you didn’t actually kiss your best friends brother. you slowly open your eyes only to meet a pair of blue eyes, bucky laughs at you. “went down the wrong hatch? seriously?” you cross your arms in front of your chest. “well what was i supposed to say, sorry can’t talk now i’m making out with your brother. she’s kill me!” you exclaim, you ran your hands down your face in an irrational manner. this was too much for you and bucky didn’t see anything wrong with it.

“would you chill out? here take a hit, it will make you feel better.” bucky offers the small bud once more, you smack it out of his hand. “do you always solve your problems with weed!” you hiss. his eyes were low, he watched as the joint flew onto the ground. you hitch your breath realizing what you did, you see his tongue rub his lower lip. you almost melt at the sight.

“your gonna regret the doll.” he seethes into your ear. he pushes you against the door, you let out a yelp but he covers your mouth. “i know a way you can make it up to me, and you are gonna make it up to me. you know why baby?” you shake your head. “because you don’t want to get on my bad side. i would hate to ruin that innocence of yours.” he whisperers, he hands managed to find their way to you ass, giving it a light squeeze before letting you go.

you move from the door and he exits the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts. you could barely comprehend what happened let along what he meant by his bad side. you grabbed the nail polish remover and walk back to rebecca room. “finally! you took forever.” you mumble a small sorry and sat on her bed, she lends you her hand and you get to work on her nails, she chose a peach color and wanted you to add a french tip, such a classic.

as you continue painting her nails she squeals making you mess up the curved line. “becca! your nails!” you groan. “i don’t care! why didn’t you tell me?” you tilt your head confusingly. “you and steve hooked up and you didn’t tel me?!” you eyes go wide. “what! no! where did you get that from?” you ask her. she huffs. “no, no, no, no don’t try to act all innocent! you and chris did it and there is evidence on your neck. i rest my case.” you rush off the bed and check your neck, you internally face palm seeing dark purple marks all over your neck.

“i had no idea steve was like that. i guess i have to stop making fun of him now.” she chuckles. “just taking me home my ass! so how was it? was he big? why arent you giving me details.” rebecca whines, kicking her feet in her bed. you ignored her and attempted to kneed out the hickies. as you run the marks you notice bucky staring at you from his room door, you could practically feel his smirk as you watched his reflection go back to his room. you heart raced as you tried to come up with an excuse.

“it’s no big deal i just burnt myself with a straightener.” you curse to yourself knowing she wouldn’t fall for that. “fine don’t tell me! i’m going to sleep, all this secrecy has made me tired.” rebecca yawns, you hoped she wouldn’t ask you about the hickey again because lying was never your forte. you lie in the large bed, clouded in your own thoughts.

did he like you? was he just messing with you? you had so many assumptions of why he kissed you, what bothered you the most was that you had steve. steve was a jock and you were an outcast, you didn’t know how it would work. even though you and steve hadn’t officially said you were together, you still respected him and wanted to be faithful.

the next morning at school, you kept your head down and didn’t talk to anyone for the most part. no one really seems to notice because you were kind of a nobody. you sat in your forensics class, jotting down notes here and there. you stop writing when you feel a hand creep up your thigh. you turn your head toward steve, he kept a straight face and didn’t acknowledge how unamused you were.

“what are you doing?” you whisper. steve’s hand tries to travel up your skirt but you close your legs firmly. “steve!” he turns to you. “we’re in the middle of class.” you point out. “i’m sorry you know i can’t resist you baby. let me make it up to you but taking you out after homecoming.” you hault yourself as you almost roll your eyes at him. steve could be pushy sometimes especially when it came to losing your virginity to him. you hated that rebecca told him that, now he wouldn’t leave you alone.

“oh really.” you say pretending to be intrigued. “the guys and i bought hotel rooms for tonight and we get to bring a special girl along. and you know since your my favorite girl, i thought we could go together and have fun. go swimming, watch movies, kiss, cuddle, the whole nine and maybe some other stuff if you want.” you remove his hand from your thigh and continue writing notes. “i told you steve i’m not ready for that stuff yet.”

steve huffs, returning back to the lesson. your virginity wasn’t something that you kept sacred but you wanted you first time to be meaningful and steve hadn’t even asked you to be his girlfriend yet so your answer would always be no if he asked. when school ended you took the bus home, you quickly packed a bag full of makeup, hair supplies and your clothes for homecoming. you checked the time, almost cursing yourself seeing how you were going to be late to rebecca’s house.

you ran as fast as you could to the barnes’ house, you could practically feel the lecture rebecca was going to give you. luckily, you live a few blocks down from the barnes so it wouldn’t be too long of a walk/run. when you arrived at the barnes’ you quickly rang the doorbell. the door opens’ revealing a shirtless bucky who looked like he just got out of the shower. “can i help you?” he smirks looking down on you.

“becca t-told m-me to come, for homecoming.” you gulped attempting to maintain eye contact. his couldn’t help but peek at his glistened abs, you really hoped he didn’t catch on to you checking him out. before he could let out a snarky comment rebecca came gritting down the stairs with curlers in her hair. “there you are! y/n your late and we only have three hours to get ready.” you pushed pass bucky and ran up the stairs.

bucky watched at how nervous you were, it was like the fuel he ran on. rebecca closed her door and pushes you onto her vanity chair. “please tell me i have creative freedom tonight!” rebecca pleads with her big blue eyes staring at you. you sigh and nod. she kisses your forehead before beginning your makeup.

after a few hours of prodding, poking, blending, and brushing, rebecca finally finished your makeup and hair. normally you wouldn’t wear makeup because you didn’t know how to do it very well but when you did have it on you truly looked like a princess. “now carefully get into your dress y/n, i swear to god if you mess up an eyelash i will kill you.” she threatens you with her high pitched voice. you removed your jeans and shirt revealing your body, you quickly unzipped the dress as you start to compare your body to rebecca’s. becca was tall and slim while you were a little curvy. you had a small tummy with stretchmarks and she had a flat tummy with a slender waist. your best friend was beautiful and you didn’t want to see mom jealous, so you put up a front and delt with it.

you and rebecca were finally dressed, rebecca looked stunning in her white and pink dress. with the help of rebecca and mrs.barnes, you had pick a pale green dress, the curve of the dress fit you like a glove. the creases on the dress made you look more mature and sexier. you were never use to being sexy so the look on your face made rebecca freak out. “you totally hate it, i knew we should’ve gone with the black dress.” you shake your head. “n-no! it looks…great. thank you becks.” the door opens, your heart quickens when you meet a pair of bright eyes. you noticed bucky had put on a shirt, a part of you were bummed out. “would it kill you to knock! we’re girls who need privacy!” rebecca yells. bucky didn’t give his sister the time of day, his eyes were fixated on you. you felt self conscious as he stared at you long and hard. “mom and dad are going to a banquet dinner in manhattan. they won’t be back until tomorrow.” he tells rebecca. she crossed her arms in confusion. “what? no! i was supposed to have the car tonight. how the hell are we supposed to get to hoco?” rebecca flings her arms up dramatically.

bucky chuckles at his sister’s agony. “wait!” you spoke up as bucky was about to walk away. “c-can y-ou drive us?” you ask quietly. rebecca pulled your arm. “are you crazy? do you know what people say if we shows up to homecoming in a pickup truck?” rebecca vocalized. you couldn’t care less what people had to say, you just wanted and excuse to be see bucky. “becca this is important to you and even you said yourself we had to be there under any circumstances.”

rebecca whines. “fine but you’re dropping us off a block away. i need to retouch my hair, you’ve made me stress away the curls.” you watched as she pushes past bucky, leaving the two of you. you stare at him for a second then turn around, attempting to act uninterested. “you know you should skip this whole homecoming thing altogether.” bucky told you. “what! no, this is important to becca and i promised her i’d be there.” you felt his presence behind you, your back was pressed to his front. “come on doll, you never seemed like the type to be into this stuff anyway. i have a few places we could go instead. wouldn’t that be way more fun.” he was baiting you and hell, you were falling for it very hard. he pushed your hair to the side, laying a kiss on your shoulder. his hand cupped your waist, pulling you as close as you could get.

his pressed more kisses up your neck, he liked testing you, he would make you beg for it if you gave him the chance. “c’mom dollface, don’t you wanna have fun with me?” you almost gave him a nod but refrained. “i should go help rebecca, see you in a few james.” you walk away smiling to yourself, you won this round of the game but best believe, bucky was going to win the next level.

you sat in between bucky and rebecca once more, y’all were currently picking up nathan and steve, your dates for the evening. “you look beautiful beck.” nathan smiles at his girlfriend. rebecca left you in the front with bucky so she could kiss her boyfriend more. steve walks to the front car door but bucky locks him out. “hey man, open the door.” steve groans. the two had seem to have history and now you were going to be in between it. “you know the rules big guy, no douches in the front seat.” bucky smirks. “then why are you sitting up here asshole?” steve sarcastically jokes. rebecca huffed from the back, leaning in the front of the seat. “hey dickheads, we don’t have time for this, have your cat fight after hoco. let’s go!” she demands. steve huffs, taking a seat next to the couple who had no problem with pda.

the ride to the school was pretty silent except for the rock music playing from the radio. you stared out of the window, you could tell bucky was mad because of how tight he was holding the steering wheel, his knuckles were almost white from the tight grip. suddenly, his hand was on your thigh. your eyes widened, you quickly look back to make sure no one saw what was happening. “what are you doing?” you whisper. he doesn’t say anything to you, his hand stays on your thigh and his eyes stay on the road but you could still see the smirk on his face. you tried to push his his hand away but he only moves it higher, almost touching your core. you didn’t want to play games anymore, you were never built for them, you open your legs up more, instead of doing what you wanted, he removed his hand. “alright guys, have a good night.” rebecca and nathan were the first ones to leave the truck. steve exits the truck and stands by youre window. “you coming?” you nod to him. “i’ll be out in a second.” steve walks away from the window, bucky bursts out into laughter.

you throw a punch at his arm but he doesn’t flinch at you. “thats not funny! you’re so mean.” you pout. “no what’s funny is you actually going out with steve.” you eye him in confusion. steve was a good guy, he could be a little pushy but that was just high school boys. “he’s nice and he asked me to go with him. i really don’t see what’s funny bucky.”

“you think just because the guy asked you to a dance, he suddenly changes his player ways. i think you forgot i use to be one of those guys. guys like that don’t fal for girls like you” he pauses. “all he wants is to get you under him and then he’s gonna hop to the next willing participant. god you’re so naive.” you crossed your arms. “you’re such a jerk james! at least he has the decency to not play with my feelings! you’re sister was right! you’re nothing but a-an…asshole.” you yell, leaving the truck with a slam of the door. you surprised yourself at how you went off on him, what did he know about steve. you knew being involved with bucky was bad but now you officially got your sign to stay away from him.

you walked into the school looking for steve. you pushed pass people grinding and dancing on each other. when you find steve you see he’s not alone, he was dancing with lila miller. the two were close together, you turn you back in disgust once you catch the two of them share a very tongue-filled kiss. you sit at the table in annoyance. of course bucky would be right about steve, you hated the fact that he was right.

it took an hour and a half for steve to find you sitting at the table, watching everyone have fun. “hey y/n sorry i was waiting for you but then the guys wanted to go take some shots in the bathroom.” steve leans over to kiss your lips but you dodge him. he looks at you with a confused face. “come on let’s go dance.” he offers you his hand, you play with the fork that was covered in strawberry cake. “i’m good, maybe you should go dance with lila instead.” you say. steve sits back down in the chair, he cleared his throat. “you saw that? i didn’t think you’d be mad, it’s not like we’re together or anything.”

you roll your eyes, pushing your plate away from you. you get up and begin walking to the double doors. as you enters the hallways you ignore steve calling your name. “y/n! can you just wait a minute!” he yells, pulling your arm back causing you to hault. “it was just a dance, i was being nice. you can’t just get mad at me like that, i asked you to be my girlfriend more than once and you said no.”

“because all you want from me is sex which is not ready to give to you. you don’t think i hear about you hooking up with girls in the gym closet. i don’t want to be the next dumb girl who becomes a play thing for you.” you snap on him. “oh come on, sex is just sex, why do you make such a bug deal over this?” he groans.

“it’s not just sex steve, i want it to be meaningful and memorable. i’m sorry if i don’t want to hook up in a sleezy hotel.” you yell, your faces were extremely close. “and you think barnes is gonna make it special? god you’re so naive.” you furrow your brows, what did bucky have to do with this situation. “he has nothing to do with this steve! you asked me to come to this dance with you only for you to dance with another girl and make me look dumb sitting there waiting for you. you can’t take your hotel invite and shove it up your ass.” you walk away from steve, this time he didn’t bother calling your name. after he heard you curse at him he knew you guys were not going to work this out

you sit on the stairs of the school, tears slowly slid from your eyes. you felt so stupid and used, you knew steve was right but it still hurt. you two weren’t together and if he wanted to take another girl to the hotel he could because you weren’t together. you cringe at how bucky was right about steve, you wanted to be angry at him but he did warn you.

you decide to head home, walking alone the lonesome streets of brooklynn. you were wet due to the copious amount of rain fall, you shiver once more and continue to walk to your house. you noticed a familiar truck driving beside you. bucky rolls down his window. “get in.” he tells you. you continue walking, deciding to ignore the older boy. “come on doll it’s raining. a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be walking alone.” you couldn’t believe he as trying to flirt with you right now. you were hurt by his words and you were standing your ground, well that was until you heard a loud crack of lightning. you quickly rushed into the truck, slamming the door behind you.

before bucky could speak you began to talk. “just because i’m sitting in here with you, doesn’t mean i forgive you.” you seethed. bucky nods at you. “okay.” you angrily slap his arm. “okay? are you serious right now? how about a sorry for being a jerk!” you yell at him. bucky doesn’t acknowledge you, he starts looking for something in his truck. “god! boys are stupid! all you do is crave sex and hurt girls!” you rant, arms crossed over your chest. once you finished your rant you peek over at bucky holding two blunts. “wanna get high?”

you later found yourself in bucky’s room, high as a kite. you didn’t know what effect he had on you but you gave into his temptation. you sat on his bed, letting him shotgun smoke onto your mouth. “god you’re so hot.” bucky kisses your right shoulder. you softly hum in response, he trails his kisses to your exposed neck. you knew this was wrong on so many level but it felt so right.

“kiss me.” you whisper against him. the drugs in your system had your hormones at an all time high, you needed him to touch you. bucky locks his lips with yours, tongue roaming each other’s mouth in such a sensual way. bucky’s hand roams your body, cupping your breasts then your neck. you moan as he applies pressure to your throat.

he slides down you dress straps, with every kiss and touch you felt your dress being pulled lower and lower. bucky lifts you up on his lap, helping you out of the green champagne dress. you were fully exposed to him, his large hands grope your ass. he slaps the soft skin sending your lower half to grind against his tight jeans. bucky groans, pulling you closer to his bottom half. you felt the jean material rub against your clothes clit, your body shakes at the new feeling. “god you have no idea what you do to me princess.” he moans into your neck. his right hand unhooks your bra, you let the bra fall off of you. bucky eyes your bare chest, his blue eyes darken filling with lust.

he pulls your breast into his mouth, twirling his tongue around your swollen nipple. you grip onto his shirt, when moves your ass back and forth on his pants. “p-please bucky.” you whine, your body was aching for him to touch you. “what do you want doll?” you grab his, guiding him to your clothed cunt. you slip his hand under you, allowing his to grope your pussy. your mouth gapes open when bucky slowly rubs your clit back and forth.

when he notices you like the feeling of him touching you, it sends him into a deep lustful trance. he flips you over, bucky’ dog tags dangle over you. he kisses between your breast, trailing down to your stomach then he comes in contact with your laced white panties.

you can feel his breath on your wet core. he inhales you, moaning as if your cunt was the drug he was addicted to. he removed your panties from your body, bucky’s cock hardens once he caught a look at your pussy, your cunt was glistening from how wet it was, it took everything in bucky not to dive right in. “your so wet for me baby, and i haven’t even touched you yet. your pussy is begging for me to devour it.” bucky taunts. he slips one finger in your folds, your back arches at the finger passes your clit.

“bucky…please. i’ll do anything.” you beg. bucky perks an eyebrow at you. “anything?” you nod vigorously. “you’re going to cum for me three times. understand?” you nod your head. bucky licks a stride up your cunt. he moans at the taste of you. bucky wraps his pink lips around your clit, your legs spread wide as you beg for him to devour you. your back arches more, his hands pin your waist down to keep you steady, you screw your eyes shut as he sucks your clit into his mouth softly.

you moan out in pleasure, letting your hands grip his soft brown hair. you tug on his roots, attempting to push him closer to you. bucky pulls away earring a whine from you, he slips his middle finger into your core. at first his movements were slowly, he was preparing before adding his ring finger. you rode his fingers, moaning as he pumped you. you watch as he spits on your core, watching his saliva mix in with your cunt. you felt your stomach tighten, bucky felt your pussy clench around his fingers, imagining you around his cock.

he wastes no time, diving into your pussy. his tongue rapidly worked your clit, his fingers pumping you at a fast pace. your body was overwhelmed by all the stimulation. “bucky!” you scream at the top of your lungs. you were now grinding against his face, he didn’t tease you anymore, now he was on a mission to give you your orgasm. your legs shake, you cry out for bucky, your toes curled and your back arches to its full extent. bucky slows his movements as you come down from your high.

you collapse on his bed, you shiver as you feel bucky remove his hand from your pussy. you try to catch your breath, bucky hovers over you. “who knew my babydoll had that in you.”

#bucky barnes headcanon #marvel imagines #winter solider imagine #best friend!bucky #bucky barnes drabble #dad! bucky barnes #bucky barnes #avengers endgame #bad boy! bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #college! bucky barnes #bestfriendsbrother! bucky barnes

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years ago

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If I Fell For You (Part 9) - Inner Demons

Summary: The reader meets Gen for the first time while the boys are having a day together. But when they come home early and Jensen overhears the reader, a very big discussion about what they both expect out of their relationship has to happen...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Skinny Dipping

Word Count: 5,100ish

Warnings: mature (language, skinny dipping, implied future smut, angst, self-doubt)

A/N: Please enjoy! Also written for @spnkinkbingo

________

“No,” whined Zeppelin as Jensen carried him out of the bedroom for the third time that night. “Daddy, I want to sleep with you.”

“Zeppelin. You gotta be a big boy and go to sleep. It’s midnight and way, way past bedtime,” said Jensen. He started to cry loudly and Jensen set him down. “Do you want a time out? I’ll give you one first thing in the morning if you don’t behave.”

He ran over to you and grabbed your leg, burying his face in it. Jensen sighed, tired after a long day and you knew he needed some sleep. You squatted down and Zeppelin grabbed at you, shaking a bit. You frowned, Jensen catching it as you picked up the little boy.

“He can stay,” you said. Jensen made a face but you carried him into the room, Jensen grumbling to himself. You let Zeppelin crawl into the middle and immediately grab his father when Jensen got under the covers. He was asleep quickly, Jensen kissing the top of his head. “He’s scared.”

“He had a tantrum. He’s four,” whispered Jensen. “He needs to sleep on his own or he gets dependent.”

“You’re his father. He’s already dependent,” you whispered. “He’s a little you.”

“What��s that mean?”

“It means he missed his daddy and he has been the one telling his sisters for three weeks daddy’s coming home soon. I don’t care if he sleeps in our bed, Jensen. Sometimes he has to be a big boy but not tonight.”

“He was very...he’s very much me,” he said quietly, fixing the blankets over his son. “He’s in tune with other’s emotions.”

“I know,” you said. “He’s a sweet boy.”

“When I was a kid, around seven or so, my dad went out to LA for about two months for work. We didn’t have the money for him to fly back and forth so he drove out there. He would call every night but it was long distance and it was expensive back then so all I got to do was say hi to him really. Somewhere in the middle of the two months he drove back to visit for a weekend. I was so excited. So, so excited. I was gonna tell him all about school and my baseball games and the jumping contest my brother and I had on the swings. I was so pumped. He said he was gonna be there Saturday morning for breakfast. Well, I wake up, run downstairs, he’s not there. Lunch rolls around, he’s not there. Afternoon snack time rolls around…”

“He’s not there?” you asked, Jensen nodding. “What happened?”

“Never left LA. Got in a car accident. He was fine but this was the eighties and my mom didn’t get a phone call until the afternoon saying he wouldn’t be coming home. I thought a hundred million things in my head of why he wasn’t there. That achy pit in your stomach. When he finally came home a month later, I slept in their room, in their bed. That little achy feeling went away after that night. I know how much he’s like me,” he said, lightly running his fingers over Zeppelin’s head. “But I gave him that part of me too and I wish I hadn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s too little to worry about me.”

“He’s okay and he’s not gonna worry after tonight. But Jensen, there’s nothing wrong with him having that part of you. It’s a really good part, the part that loves the people he cares about. Right now he doesn’t understand it but someday he will and that’s going to make him a person people will be fortunate to have in their lives. That’s a great part of you he got.”

“Just have to go and make me feel better, don’t you,” he said softly. He closed his eyes and smiled. “Think I’m doing an okay job at this?”

“Yup,” you said. Zeppelin turned over in his sleep, smashing his face into your arm.

“You care for them,” said Jensen. You nodded and he burrowed down into the sheets. “Because of me or your job?”

“It always helps the job,” you said. “When you nanny, you want the kids to feel comfortable with you and caring about them always makes that easier. But I don’t...I don’t like them because I decided I liked their dad, you know?”

“Why did you then?”

“People with money sometimes let their children get raised by that money and you can tell when it happens. But it’s so obvious that doesn’t happen with them. They have nice toys and clothes and things but they’re good and funny and smart and they could very easily be brats if you went the easy route but you didn’t and it just shows. Sure they’re kids and they can drive anyone to the brink of insanity at times, but they got big hearts, especially for dad. I just like them and seeing them grow into those people more every day.”

“Me too,” he said, Zeppelin rolling back, fisting his hands into Jensen’s shirt this time. He smiled and you leaned over, kissing him goodnight, pecking one on Zeppelin’s head. “Night.”

“Night Jensen.”

The next afternoon when you arrived at Jared’s house you weren’t sure what you were expecting. Jared and Jensen were off doing who knew what and you felt like you’d been set up on a playdate yourself. You’d dropped off the kids there more than once already and knew their kids but for some reason or other you’d yet to meet Gen. You swallowed as you followed the kids around the side of the house, the three of them taking off to go play with their friends on a swing set. You looked around and bit your bottom lip, fixing your bag over your shoulder.

“Y/N?” called a voice. You turned and saw a woman behind you, a bit sweaty in some workout clothes. “Hey. I’m Gen. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Thanks. You too,” you said.

“Come on,” she said, waving you to follow her up some steps to a patio. “Tom! JJ!”

“We know!” they shouted back from the swings. She shook her head and sighed.

“Not that any of the little ones can get over to the pool anyways but I want to remind them to keep an eye on the younger ones when I’m inside,” she said, showing you to a patio door. You followed her inside, Gen walking into a kitchen and going straight to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of cold water.

“They have hair like their dad,” you said.

“Yes, yes they do. Getting them to get a haircut is like herding cats,” she said. She gulped down her water and let out a deep breath. “Do you mind if I shower quick? Time got away from me.”

“Yeah, no problem,” you said.

“There’s a bathroom right around the corner there. Feel free to take whatever from the kitchen if you want. I’ll be back in ten,” she said.

“No problem,” you said. When she was upstairs you went back outside, leaving your bag in a patio chair. You went down the steps and watched the kids running around for a moment before exploring their backyard. “Here I thought your backyard was nice Ackles.”

“Y/N, will you play tag with us?” asked Arrow from over in the grass.

“How could I say no to a face like that?”

Fifteen minutes later you were warm and taking a break under the patio again out of the sun, the kids playing on the slide and swings now.

“Remember when we had endless energy like that?” asked Gen as the back door opened.

“Barely,” you said, a margarita glass set down in front of you. “I see we’re going to be very good friends.”

“It’s so hot out today,” she said, setting a pitcher and another glass down on the table. She poured you a glass and then herself one before taking a seat beside you. “I bet the boys are out jet skiing.”

“They really are like a pair of children when you get them together,” you said.

“Yeah but it’s cute. Most people don’t ever get to have a best friend like that,” she said. “Sometimes they need their space from each other but Jared’s literally been counting down the days until Jensen gets back.”

“I don’t think Jensen will ever stay away that long again. He missed his family and friends. Home,” you said.

“We’re glad to have him back. He’s been gone for a while. Even before you went to Canada,” she said.

“Were you good friends with...” you asked, Gen nodding. “I’m sorry.”

“It sucked. Still does,” she said. “When the boys were off, we could hang out. We got very close. After the accident I was the one taking care of the kids, helping his parents and family with their day to day. Jared focused more on Jensen, helping him physically get back to normal and then mentally. But you know how he was when you met him.”

“I know a lot of work went into helping him get there. I’m very grateful he had you guys,” you said.

“Listen...I’m hoping we can be good friends too. It was different for me and Dee. We both were dating the boys around the same time, got married around the same time. I know we don’t have that and...I just hope we can have that relationship still.”

“Me too. I know we’re probably gonna be seeing you guys a lot now that neither of them are working,” you said.

“Probably most everyday,” she said. “They’re like twins separated at birth or something I swear.”

“Has Jensen always been a bit quiet?” you asked.

“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen that boy drunk off his ass and being a troublemaker but he’s always been that way. Maybe it’s why he and Jared fit. They’re protective of each other in different ways. Jared’s the loud one out of the two of them, always has been and Jensen, even if he is your best fucking friend, sometimes he’s a little bit quiet.”

“I figured as much. He’s just…”

“Gentle,” she said, a smile coming to your face. “You two are pretty serious, huh.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s been five months. I’d say it’s serious. You move in yet?”

“Technically I’ve always been moved in,” you said. She laughed and took a sip of her drink. “Yeah. We’ve gotten to the sharing a room stage very recently.”

“You must be very special then,” she said. “He was never gonna fall in love ever again. Told Jared and me himself. Now he’s as lovestruck as the first time around.”

“I’m not expecting…” you said, sipping on your drink. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Like I said, we can be friends without the boys,” she said. “What aren’t you expecting?”

“This,” you said with a shrug. “Marriage. Kids of my own. I don’t know where it goes with Jensen.”

“You should start having those talks with him,” she said, your head shaking. “You have to, just so you’re on the same page.”

“I don’t even know if we’re reading the same book,” you said. She nodded and you slumped back into your seat. “I know I love him and that he loves me. But I don’t know if that’s enough.”

“A friend once told me that’s all you need,” said Jensen behind you. You turned around and Jensen was standing there, a sad smile on his face. “We wanted to come hang out with you guys. Y/N?”

You got a smile from Gen as you followed Jensen inside, Jared slipping past and out back. You crossed your arms and looked down, Jensen stepping close to you, large hands resting on your arms.

“Why don’t you think it’s enough?” he asked quietly.

“It is. Gen and I were just shooting the shit,” you said, forcing your gaze up. He slid his hand down and took one of yours, pulling you over to a quiet sitting room. He sat down on a day bed, you going with him.

“Honey. Tell me the truth.” He ran his thumb over the back of your hand as you crossed your legs. “Did I do something?”

“No. You’re perfect,” you said, glancing down to your lap. “All I was saying was...I don’t know where you stand on some things.”

“Like what?” he asked, still smiling softly, hiding all of the nerves underneath it.

“Kids. Marriage. The fact your family has never once met me or knows I exist. Am I just gonna be the nanny girlfriend or is there something more? I love you. I fucking love and I don’t need or want...I just want to know if you’re open to those things.”

“I don’t know,” he said. You nodded and moved your hand back into your lap, Jensen letting go of it. “Is that a deal breaker?”

“No,” you said with a shake of your head. “Like I said, we were shooting the shit.”

You were both quiet before you stood, Jensen grabbing your hand. He pulled you back to sit, plopping you straight down in his lap before kissing you.

“Okay I do know but the answers fucking scare me,” he said. “I said I was gonna stop being scared when it came to you.”

“Jensen, you don’t have to-”

“Yes, I would have more kids if it were with the right person. Preferably sooner than later but yes. Yes, I would marry again. Yes, I would introduce her to my family and yes they do know about her. Not as much as I’d like but they do know her. And lastly yes, I am open to more than just the nanny girlfriend, so much fucking more. All of it more. But that scares me that almost a year later here I am, open to all of those things, wanting those things with you when losing Dee hurt so much. It’s not fair to you that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be, simple and normal and just the fun parts. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking you to stop loving her. God if you ever did, I don’t think you’d be the man I love. I just wanted to know if there’s room for a future in there maybe,” you said.

“You kinda got in there all on your own and I don’t want you to ever come out,” he said.

“Ever?” you breathed out. “Cause that implies-”

“If someone’s gonna be that second person for me, I think…” he said, looking down. You rested your forehead against his, Jensen taking a deep breath. “I know you won’t wait for me forever to get my shit together.”

“Well, forever’s a long time. I can offer a few years at least?” you asked, Jensen laughing dryly. “What?”

“I don’t deserve a few years. Your emotions aren’t a toy to play with.”

“Yours aren’t something to drag along when they’re not ready.”

“See? You do that shit. You always do that fucking shit,” he said, his voice a few octaves higher. You wrapped him up in a hug, feeling a few drops of wetness hit your cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“For crying? Jesus Jens, it’s okay,” you said. “I promise it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I keep tossing you around like you don’t have feelings too, like this isn’t hard for you too. It’s always me and my fucking problems with just…”

“Just what honey,” you said, Jensen holding onto you tightly, chin resting on your shoulder.

“I can’t,” he said.

“Why not?” you said, carding your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t want this to go away,” he mumbled out. “This is it and I feel like I’m gonna explode and-”

“Shush,” you said, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing his whole body as much as you could. He stilled briefly and calmed down some, sniffling to himself before you released to a gentler hold on him. “Just the anxiety talking.”

“I love you,” he said, lifting his head up, looking you straight on. “I want to marry you. I want to have kids with you and do everything with you. I’ve known those things for a very long time. Longer than you have and before you even thought of them as questions. I want all that and you’re gonna get stuck with me, with this, with the never ending baggage, with the baggage you haven’t even seen yet. All your life is gonna be is taking care of my ass and you getting hurt because of it. Is that what you want? Is it? Because I want so much fucking more for you than me.”

“Was that your proposal speech?” you asked calmly. He blinked a few times and narrowed his eyes.

“What? Y/N I-”

“Well you said you want to marry me and yeah, I fucking want to do that with you too so was that your speech?”

“What?” he asked so innocently you smiled. “I don’t…”

“I happen to like taking care of your ass. So. You want me gone, I’m gone. You want me to stay, I’m staying forever. What’s it gonna be?” you asked.

“Stay,” he said quietly with a nod. “Please don’t go away from us.”

“Okay,” you said. He leaned forward and kissed you, sniffling some more when he broke off. “Are you…”

“I can’t believe I just asked that while I’m covered in tears and snot,” he said. A box of tissues suddenly flung itself through the doorway, landing near your feet. You stared down at it and started to laugh, Jensen chuckling while you picked it up. “I’m never living that down.”

“Who gives a fuck,” you said. You took out a tissue and wiped off his face and eyes, having him blow his nose a few times. “That’s really gross.”

“I know.”

“Must be how you know it’s meant to be,” you said, wiping your hand off.

“Stay forever?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Yeah that sounds good.”

“Me too,” he said. He pulled you into a hug and you held him tight, the door sneakily shutting on the two of you when it started to pour outside and you heard the backdoor. “I bet that’s how you imagined that going.”

“I never thought it would happen,” you said. “Not when I first came here. Love’s for other people. Normal people with normal families.”

“Fuck normal,” he said and you laughed. You picked up a clean tissue and licked it, wiping off a dried tear streak on his cheek. “I feel good.”

“We’re gonna work on that bottling shit up stuff, okay?” you said.

“Maybe you’ll have more success than Dee did,” he chuckled.

“I’ll just have to build off what she started,” you said. He nodded and cupped your cheek as you finished cleaning him off. “There, all better.”

“Guess you’re out of a nanny job,” he said.

“Oh such a shame,” you said. “I’ve been putting my paychecks for the last while to a separate account.”

“I did notice that,” he said. “Saving for something?”

“Wanted to give it back to you.”

“Honeymoon fund instead?”

“Okay, now we’re talking,” you said with a laugh.

“You never did tell me how much your book deal got you.”

“I signed a multi-year deal. They think there’s great potential for it to be one of those series every kid reads. One million for around twenty books?”

“Fuck. You should be my agent if you can negotiate like that,” he said.

“I’m still gonna take care of them like I have been,” you said.

“I know. It’s probably going to be a million times harder now actually,” he said. You nodded and he smiled. “You love them.”

“Yes but I don’t know how to be a parent.”

“Just do what you’ve been doing and it’ll be fine,” he said. “It’ll change but it’ll be good.”

“Not really how I was expecting today to go,” you said.

“Me either. I had hoped for that to be a tad more romantic,” he said. You gave him a kiss and hug, Jensen returning it. “You don’t care.”

“Nah,” you said. “Just care about you. Everything else, I’m good.”

“Want to go share the news with our eavesdropper?” he asked. You helped him up to his feet and took his hand, walking out of the room, Jared and Gen suspiciously wiping down their kitchen counter. “Or should I say eavesdroppers.”

“We were concerned and I swear we left after Jared tossed the tissues in,” said Gen. Jared shook his head and pointed at her. “I swear he did it.”

“Guess you guys heard then,” said Jensen, giving you a smile. “We’re gonna give it a shot.”

“You okay?” asked Jared. Jensen nodded and squeezed your hand. “You sure?”

“I know what I want,” said Jensen. “I’ve known for a long time. Finally got over being scared is all.”

“She wasn’t gonna hurt you,” said Jared with a smile.

“I know. It was a different fear,” he said.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said. “Promise.”

“You better not, sweetheart.”

It was dark by the time the storms had passed, all three kids going down easy after spending most of the day running around the Padalecki house. You sat on the balcony off of Jensen’s bedroom in the oversized lounge chair, Jensen sat on the other side of the small side table your drink rested on.

“I’ve never been on a boat before,” you said, staring up at the dark night sky, the only light coming from a few string ones Jensen had turned on.

“Never?” asked Jensen. “Better wear your life jacket tomorrow then.”

“You better wear your life jacket,” you said. “We both know I’m a better swimmer than you.”

“You’re a better swimmer than me? Me?” he chuckled. “No way.”

“Put your money where your mouth is. Five bucks says I’m a better swimmer,” you said. He waved the way towards the door and you stood up, walking downstairs and outside.

“Uh, you missing something?” he chuckled. You smirked and pulled off your shirt and undid your jeans, shimming out of them and leaving them by the patio. “You really think…”

“I really think what?” you said, tossing your bra at him, leaving your underwear behind. You jumped in and swam out to the deep end. “You’re already losing Jensen.”

“Losing my ass,” he said, taking off his shirt and jeans, nearly tripping as he hopped out of his boxer briefs. He jumped in nearby and swam over to you, dunking his head under briefly. “I could get used to this look.”

“Nothing you’ve not seen before.”

“Never seen my fiance naked before,” he grinned. You rolled your eyes but swam over and gave him a kiss. “I knew you had a thing for dorks you know.”

“Did you now?”

“Told me yourself. Not a fan of cocky guys I recall.”

“Well...a little cock is okay. Highly recommended in fact,” you said.

“You are such a loser,” he laughed.

“I must have learned it from you.” You giggled and swam back to the shallow end, Jensen lazily chasing after. “I’ve never skinny dipped until just now actually.”

“Got anything on your bucket list you want to try out?” he asked. You shrugged and took a seat on a step, Jensen settling in next to you. “Naked trounce on the trampoline?”

“Maybe another time,” you said. You leaned back and looked up at the dark sky once more. He reached over and held your hand in the water, playing with it quietly. “Skydiving would be cool. Space would be cool.”

“One of those is a lot more feasible than the other. I noticed up in Canada where we had more stars at night you really like looking at them.”

“Did it a lot as a kid. Kinda always have,” you said. “I like space as much as the next gal but it’s just pretty, you know? You’re one little speck out in all of those stars. It’s all so freaking complex but you can kinda look up at them and it’s just so simple too.”

“Yeah,” he said, toying with a strand of hair floating in the water. “I get that.”

You turned and found him staring at you, a smile on his lips.

“We could go camping sometime, see all the stars there are up there if you’d like,” he said.

“We don’t have to do that,” you said.

“Why?” he asked quietly. “I’m curious is all. It seems like something you’d really enjoy seeing.”

“What purpose does it serve though? It’s not something fun for the kids to experience,” you said. “It’s a waste of money.”

“It doesn’t have to have a purpose. It’s for you, for us. A night away where you get to see something most people don’t ever get a chance. That’s the only purpose,” he said. “Camping’s about the cheapest thing you can do. Don’t worry about the money. You don’t have to worry about that ever again.”

“I just don’t want to go camping,” you said. You looked down and swallowed. “I used to go camping with my dad a lot.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do that to me,” you said. “I just...I don’t think I ever want to go again.”

“Okay. Would you go camping with me sometime?” he asked.

“Jensen-”

“Just me. No body else. I won’t even touch you except to cuddle,” he said. You nodded and he smiled. “Thank you. It won’t be scary this time. I promise.”

“Is your dad nice?” you asked. He leaned back against his elbows and nodded. “Does he know about me?”

“My parents know I have a girlfriend. My mom knows I was getting pretty serious about you,” he said.

“Do they know I was the nanny? Or how old I am?”

“No. My siblings do but not my parents,” he said. You sat up and wrapped your arms around yourself in the warm night air. “I’m not embarrassed of you Y/N. I think that’s a conversation better had in person is all.”

“You haven’t told them because you think they’ll have a problem with it,” you said.

“Not as much problem as when I say I’m not having a prenup,” he said. You turned your head and saw him smiling back. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t trust you completely.”

“Jensen I don’t want to cause a problem,” you said. He shook his head and you sighed. “I know how close you are with them and you haven’t gotten to see them since Christmas. I know exactly what they’re gonna think of me when they hear about the former nanny.”

“You don’t seem to understand yet that you? Nobody is more important than you and those three in there. If they can’t accept you then screw ‘em.”

“Jensen.”

“I’m not worried and you know why? I love you and you love me. I know they love me a whole lot too so you’re on the same side.”

“You’re a bad liar,” you said. He sat up and sighed. “Jens-”

“I don’t know how they’ll act. But you deserve a chance and that’s what I expect out of them. I want them to love you too but at a minimum you’ll have their respect.”

You nodded and sunk down in the warm water, Jensen sliding over and taking a seat on your lap, tossing his arms around your shoulders.

“You still talk to Dee’s parents right?” you asked. He nodded and wrapped his legs loosely around your waist. “Do they…”

“No,” he said quietly. “They deserve for that to be an in person conversation too. They’re coming up soon for JJ’s birthday soon. I figured I’d tell them then.”

“I’m glad you still talk to them,” you said. “They still see you guys.”

“Christmas was hard last year. I’m not sure which one of us got it worse,” he said.

“I’d like to meet them if that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out. “I’m not sure how they’ll react honestly.”

“I’d still like to,” you said, stepping out into the water with him, Jensen hanging off of you. “If only you were this light normally I’d carry you around all day.”

“Didn’t we agree a long time ago you were the badass princess after all,” he said, bumping his nose against yours.

“Here I thought you’d be taller,” you teased, quickly kissing him.

“Little shit,” he grinned. He nuzzled your cheek and you let out a deep breath. “Don’t worry about them.”

“At least we don’t have to go through this on my side,” you said.

“Can I ask one thing of you?”

“What?”

“Ray, your mom’s boyfriend, did things end badly between the two of you or you just drift apart? You said you left when you finished high school.”

“I stopped talking to him awhile ago. I moved out at 18 when I got my first nanny job. He was dating his wife Sarah by then. I’d come over for dinner every few months for a few years. By the time I was twenty one they were married with two kids. I didn’t go one time and kept putting it off and Ray told me it was okay if I didn’t want to see him anymore. I could call him if I ever needed him, that sort of thing. I haven’t spoken to him in nine years. But that’s not asking something of me, is it.”

“Can we consider inviting him to the wedding?”

“Been engaged eight hours and already planning?” you asked.

“I don’t know him but he had a part in raising you. Just consider it is all I ask. And wedding? Those things take fucking forever to plan, trust me.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, spinning him around in the water. “Are they really that complicated to put together?”

“Nah. Don’t go bridezilla on me is all,” he said.

“Total diva over here,” you said, feeling the edge of the shallow end start to drop off with your foot. You spun around one more time before you had to set him down, Jensen taking the chance to pick you up and toss you out of of the water. “Jensen! I’m naked!”

“I know. It’s awesome,” he said, swimming out and kissing your cheek. “Wanna race?”

“Winner gets to do whatever they want to the loser when we head upstairs?” you grinned.

“Oh, you’re so on.”

______

A/N: Read Part 10 here!

#spnkinkbingo #supernatural #spn #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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wroetospotterwp · 3 years ago

Note

death eater x harry???? oR SOMEONE ELSE IDK AH

Dark Red

Pairing ✨: Harry Potter x Death Eater!Reader (Fem!) (also implies that reader isn’t in gryffindor n also set during OOTP)

Summary 💓: Y/N has been forced by her parents to follow in their footsteps and join the death eaters, it doesn’t help that her boyfriend is Harry Potter.

Word Count 🖊: 2,613

A/N 🗣: FIRST REQUEST FROM THE LEGEND HERSELF 🤌🤌 she first sent me an edit on tiktok and she was like idea, so we’ve went for it, also first song imagine! all the lyrics i’ll be using will be in italics but i’ve had to change pronouns to fit harry :)

Warnings ⚠️: swearing and made my heart ache a little, manipulation

Requested? 📮: yes! :)

Masterlist

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The rain was pelting hard against the window in Y/N’s dorm, the loudness of the rain drops smashing against the glass had awoken the girl from her slumber. She sat up from bed and leaned against her headboard.

Rubbing her eyes, Y/N adjusted to the dim lighting in the room. Everything in her life was just perfect, her grades were good, she had lots of friends, and last but most definitely not least there was Harry.

They had been dating for over a year now and Y/N could see it lasting, what she felt with Harry was something so indescribable, but it made her so happy. The two of them distracted each other from their lives. Y/N helped him take his mind off He Who Must Not Be Named, and he distracted her from her parents.

Her parents did not approve of their relationship, and Y/N knew it probably had something to do with the fact they secretly supported Voldemort. But she hadn’t ever told him that, for the matter she hadn’t told many peoples.

Y/N was staring at the top of her bed, her stomach beginning to turn. This usually happened when she got a bad feeling. Y/N focused on trying to figure out what might happen, fail a test? Have an argument with someone?

Y/N thoughts were going fifty miles an hour that she didn’t hear her friend wake up next to her. “You look deep in thought.” She joked, Y/N turning to face her. “What’s the matter?” Her friend questioned.

Y/N let out a sigh. “Something bad is about to happen to me.” She mumbled, knowing how ridiculous it might have sounded.

“You’ve been listening to Trelawney too much.” Her friend brushed off with a smile, but it slowly dropped when she saw Y/N’s expression. “Come on Y/N, what could possible happen?”

“I don’t know what, but I feel it coming.” Y/N voiced her thoughts to her friend.

“Let’s do something to take your mind off this.” Her friend suggested. Y/N thought that be the best. Normally when she didn’t feel great, if she did something else to busy herself, the thought usually disappeared.

“Where are you planning to take me?” Y/N questioned, she got out of bed and collected her clothes that she would put on.

“I need to go down to Owlery, I promised to send my sister something from Zonko’s.” Her friend informed her, going into the toilet to get dressed.

Y/N decided to just get dressed in the dorm, the other three girls were fast asleep so she felt comfortable changing. The two girls them left the dormitory once they were ready and headed out their common room.

There wasn’t many students around the castle yet, but this was around the time many of them would be waking up. Many would wake up so thankful it was finally the weekend and they could have some sort of freedom.

Umbridge’s rule over the school was making many reach breaking point, there were new rules almost every day and it was completely turning Hogwarts into a prison. They weren’t allowed to do anything, couldn’t act like normal teenagers, she was determined to make everyone prim, proper and to not challenge the Ministry.

There only hope was Dumbledore’s Army, the only freedom they had. But Marietta Edgecombe had ratted them out, and they were all severely punished. Y/N felt sorry for Harry, it was all going so well and once they were caught, he blamed himself. Y/N tried to reassure her boyfriend that it wasn’t his fault, but she couldn’t get through to him.

In fact, the two of them hadn’t really spoken since Umbridge began giving them punishments, Harry was isolating himself and kept his distance. Y/N was missing him but sometimes he did this, so she decided to let him have a moment to himself and then he would be back to normal.

The girls eventually reached the Owlery, Y/N’s friend immediately heading to find her owl so she could send the products from Zonko to her sister. Y/N looked around at the different owls, but one caught her eye.

It was her parent’s owl. And it had a letter tied around their talon. Y/N untied the letter, about to read it until her friend appeared behind her.

“Has Y/N got a love note from Potter?” Her friend teased her.

“Parents owl.” Y/N informed her friend, who raised both brows. Y/N’s parents hadn’t really kept in contact with her much when she was at Hogwarts, so receiving a letter was unusual.

“What did they say?” Her friend questioned.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t read it yet.” Y/N replied, laughing slightly as she thought of something. “Might be so sad, might leave my nose running.”

“If it’s just to bring you down, ignore them.” Her friend reminded her, her arm wrapping around Y/N’s shoulder. “Let’s head back up, I’m starving.”

Y/N agreed, the two girls heading up the castle for breakfast. They entered the Great Hall and were about to sit at their own house table before Hermione waved them over.

“What’s that?” Hermione questioned immediately as they sat down in front of her, the girl’s two best friends were nowhere to be seen, but not unusual for them to be late for breakfast.

“Nosy are we, Hermione?” Y/N’s friend joked, Hermione playfully shrugged it off.

“It’s a letter from my parents.” Y/N told her, placing the unread letter onto the table.

“Oh.” Hermione mumbled, most people knew what Y/N’s parents were like, she had either told them or heard Harry’s complaints about they didn’t approve of him and the relationship. “Is everything alright?”

“I haven’t read it yet. I will after I have something to eat.” Y/N replied, scanning the table to try and find something to eat. “Where’s the toast?” Her friend reaching and grabbing a piece of toast for Y/N.

The three girls just quietly ate breakfast for a while and enjoyed each other’s company, Ron tiredly stumbled towards them. “Nice of you to finally join us Ronald.” Hermione greeted as he sat down beside her.

“Hermione, I was exhausted.” Ron huffed, grabbing as much food as he could onto his plate, he always acted like he barely eats.

“You always are.” Hermione mumbled under her breath, going back to eating some porridge.

“Where’s Harry?” Y/N blurted out, poor Ron had been harassed by her since Harry started to isolate himself. Ron most definitely knew more than she did.

“Still getting ready, mate.” Ron spoke with his mouth full, Hermione pulling a face and scoffing. “I think he’s alright today, you know, I’d have a chat with him today.” He suggested.

“Thanks Ron.” Y/N smiled, finishing what she was having. Her eyes caught the letter again, she really didn’t want to open it but she was also desperate to find out what they want. With a quiet sigh, she picked up the letter and began to read it.

Dear Y/N,

We hope you are well at Hogwarts, Umbridge seems to finally be turning that school around for the better, I’m sure you’d agree.

Well you would have when you were younger.

We miss our old Y/N, always following the rules and in our footsteps. But every since you started to attend Hogwarts with that daft old man as your head teacher, you changed.

And of course that boyfriend of yours didn’t help either, just like his father, always in trouble. Poor Lily should’ve saved herself.

As you know, the Dark Lord is back. You know how we always felt towards him, but we fear he will target us because of your choices. Many have heard he won’t accept us, because of your closeness to Potter.

He may come after us Y/N, we need you back on our side. Otherwise we’re all dead, you don’t want Potter finding out you’ve been killed by him? He can’t lose another loved one to the Dark Lord.

Write back to us as soon as you can, we can guide you along the way.

All the best,

Mum and Dad.

Y/N eyes began to well up, she knew that feeling from this morning meant something, but for it to be this bad? How on earth she was meant to tell Harry this? “Everything alright?” Her friend put a hand Y/N’s shoulder, the latter had completely forgot where she was at the moment.

“I need to go.” Y/N informed them, quickly jumping up from the bench.

“What did they say to you?” Hermione questioned, but Y/N didn’t answer her. The girl made her way from the hall, eyes trained on the floor to avoid any eye contact from her friends. But that made it difficult to watch where she was going.

Y/N crashed right into someone. “I’m sorry.” She quickly apologised as she refused to look up, she just wanted to go back into her dorm room.

“Y/N?” A voice she could instantly recognise.

“I can’t talk right now, Harry.” Y/N rushed past him, she needed to think what she was going to tell him, if she was going to tell him.

“I just hope he don’t want to leave me.” She mumbled to herself.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It had been a few weeks and Y/N hadn’t said a word to anybody, her and Harry had completely switched places. She was the one isolating herself, trying to decide what to do. Ignore what her parents said, stay with her boyfriend and friends and hope to God nothing happens to them. Or risk listening to her parents, and possibly lose her relationships at Hogwarts?

She had been exchanging letters between her parents in the meantime to see what she needed to do, and it seemed to be to just join them at the Ministry, which didn’t seem so bad. Her parents worked high up for the Ministry anyway, so as long as they gave her permission to leave, Umbridge would let her.

Y/N had pretended to stay asleep until the rest of her dorm mates left, including her friend, before eventually getting up. The feeling in her chest was back from before, the one she got before her parents letter. “Something bad is about to happen to me.” She sadly mumbled, even the weather had mirrored her emotions, it was a dreary day, grey skies and gloom surrounded the castle.

Y/N fidgeted with her hands as she thought what would happen, anxiety fuelling her veins. “Why I feel this way? I don’t know…” She took a deep breath. “Maybe-“

The dorm door opened and revealed Y/N’s friend. “What the fuck is going with you?” She demanded. “What did they say to you to make you like this?”

“It’s complicated.” Y/N brushed off, should she tell her? She did tell her friend everything and maybe it would be good to have some advice.

After some deep breaths and forcing tears to stop falling, Y/N confessed to her friend everything. By the end of it, her friend was in complete shock, face contorting from confusing, to anger, to annoyance.

“And I just don’t know what to do about Harry.” Y/N sadly mumbled. “I think of him so much it drives me crazy.”

“Y/N, this is bad.” Her friend managed to stammer out.

“I just don’t want him to leave me.” Y/N cried, finally allowing the tears to fall.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N.” Her friend snapped. “Of course he will. Joining the people who support the being who killed his parents?” She raised a brow. “I’d definitely forgive you.” Sarcastically she finished.

“But he knows what my parents are like.” Y/N countered.

“I don’t think he’ll care.” Her friend pointed out, deep down Y/N knew the same, Harry would be extremely hurt by this. “How the fuck are you gonna get out this?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N shrugged. “You Know Who will kill them if I don’t help them.”

“Are you forgetting who your boyfriend is?” Her friend raised a brow.

Oh yeah, it would be completely fair on Harry to force him to protect her family. “Like he’s gonna show mercy.” Y/N huffed. “Harry was with Cedric and look what happened, he wants Harry and to just kill who gets in his way.”

It was silent for a moment, neither of them knew what to say. “What are you gonna tell him?” Her friend quietly spoke up, Y/N didn’t say anything. Her friend’s mouth fell open and eyes widened at Y/N’s lack of an answer. “You need to tell him.”

“And say what?! Sorry, I need to go help my Death Eater parents and probably do something for You Know Who.” Y/N snapped.

“I don’t know how to help you.” Her friend awkwardly mumbled.

Y/N knew she couldn’t. She was now trapped with no escape.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Y/N was at the Ministry with her parents, she still had no idea what they were doing or why they needed her, but it wasn’t as bad as she thought. The family got into an elevator and started to head down a few floors.

“Now, whatever you do, don’t talk.” Her mum warned her before the elevator stopped, the girl nodded and they walked out as the doors opened. Y/N could see Draco Malfoy’s father and another woman with curly black hair.

“Did it work?” Y/N’s father asked Lucius.

“I believe so.” Lucius replied, nobody really taking notice to Y/N.

“I can’t wait to meet him.” The black haired woman cackled.

“Now, now, Bellatrix. We have to leave him for the Dark Lord.” Lucius reminded her, the woman huffing dramatically. Y/N’s eyes widened, oh how she was praying they weren’t taking about Harry.

Please don’t be talking about Harry.

“What if he’s fine?” Y/N thought to herself. “It’s my mind that’s wrong. And I just let bad thoughts linger for far too long.”

“We’re going in. Have your wand ready.” Her dad whispered to her. They walked through a door with a handle in the middle into a huge room filled with crystal balls. She couldn’t study them for long before being dragged into the darkness.

The door had opened again a few minutes later, but Y/N couldn’t see who had walked in, only dragged by her parents deeper into the room.

“They should be here!” Harry’s voice was heard, Y/N’s heart dropping to her stomach. Why did he have to come here?

“Harry? It’s got your name on it.” Neville informed him.

“Follow Lucius.” Her mum whispered in her ear, Y/N reluctantly following him, who was now wearing a Death Eater mask.

“Harry!” Here it goes, Y/N kept back from Lucius as the group’s wands lit up the path, she desperately wanted to stay hidden and they would never know she was here.

“Where’s Sirius and Y/N?” Harry demanded as Lucius approached him.

“How fortunate we are to have Y/N right with us.” You could hear the smirk in Lucius’ voice, Y/N wanted to run and escape, but how could one girl manage to escape four Death Eaters?

“What are you talking about?” Harry angrily asked.

“Come on Y/N, don’t be shy.” Lucius gestures for her to come forward. Slowly and painfully, the girl got closer to Harry and the words kept repeating in her head.

“Don’t you give me up. Please don’t give up.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

thank you so much to @drearyxo for being my first request!! i hope this was class enough for you, no hate comments from you 🙄🙄

I HAVE TO SAY I LOVED WRITING THIS SO MUCHHHHH DEFO A FAVE i think you all know by now i’m definitely better at the dialogue part then anything else, but i’m quite proud of it all today :)

there could be a part two to this??? maybe, depends if people want it

hope you enjoyed!!

Taglist: @malfoysstilinski @drearyxo @just-a-bittersweet-tragedy @fizzleberries

#wroetospotterwp #harry potter #harry potter fic #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter fluff #harry potter angst #harry potter fanfiction #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter imagine #harry james potter

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byunbaekby · 4 years ago

Text

title: haven’t been caught pairing: badboy!haechan x goodgirl!reader word count: 1.7k genres: fluff, established relationship au, high school au, secret relationship warnings: mentions of weed, suggestiveness, one cuss word, not proofread additional: based on the song “good girls” by 5 seconds of summer. also, big thanks to @florence-cvrt for all their help <3

She's good at school, she's never truant She can speak French, I think she's fluent.

“Lee Donghyuck, if you don’t get your hand off my thigh right this instant, I will tell Mr. Qian to fail you.”

You bring a light slap down on his hand, which is threatening to slide up your skirt. Your boyfriend’s hand immediately leaves your leg, innocently tucking it back into his lap. When you turn to him, his pretty lips are spread into a fake virtuous smile and his long hair barely covers his entertained sparkling eyes. Still, he complains, “Wait until I tell the student body that their vice president is actually violent and manipulative.”

He tsk’s as you show no reaction, instead flipping through the pages of the French textbook. “What would you tell them?”

Donghyuck leans back in his desk chair where the two of you reside in an empty classroom, adjusting the collar of his leather jacket before running a hand through his hair. “That even though you walk around school smiling at everyone and kissing teachers’ asses, you love hitting your boyfriend and threatening him.”

“You, my boyfriend?” You laugh at him, eyes never leaving the book. “They’d never believe you.”

You’re right, because the school has no idea that you, the It Girl and vice president of the student body council, are dating Lee Donghyuck, the guy who smokes weed behind the school and always skips class for no important reason other than to entertain himself. How you even started dating is another story, but now your relationship is on the infinite downlow.

“You’re right,” he relents, but he’s obviously not given up yet as he leans closer to you. You try not to get swayed by the sudden infiltration of his scent, and continue scanning the pages of the French book. “They won’t. But it wouldn’t be a surprise. I mean, we’d be the hottest couple ever. So, maybe I should put a nice big hickey, right there on your pretty neck. Maybe then they’ll believe you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be,” teases your boyfriend, his voice dipping lower into dangerous territory.

You roll your eyes. “Sure,” you respond sarcastically.

“If you say so.”

Before you know it, your boyfriend has leaned in to kiss you, lips inches away from yours. When you realize what he’s up to you put a hand up, so his lips meet your palm instead of their intended destination. “No.”

A whine leaves him, a stark juxtaposition from his dark appearance. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not appropriate.”

“Not appropriate?” he questions, crossing his leather covered arms across his chest. “You’re my girlfriend.”

A shake of your head tells him no, along with a teasing smirk upon your lips. “Not right now. Right now, I’m your French tutor. Now pay attention,” you tell him, gaze skimming the textbook page.

“Fine,” he scoffs, leaning back in his chair.

“Je suis allé au café et j'ai pris une tasse de café. Translate that for me.”

“That means,” he starts, rolling his neck back to stretch it out, looking less than interested in the lesson. “My boyfriend is so sexy and I wish he would kiss me right now.”

Your eyes narrow, and you shake your head. He speaks up again. “I was kidding, actually it means, Donghyuck, I love when you wear your leather jacket, it makes you look so sexy.”

You lean forward, capturing your head in your hands in frustration. He just laughs. “Tu es une telle honte, pourquoi je sors avec toi,” you sigh out, exasperated.

“Oh,” he hums, leaning forward to hold your hands instead. “Maybe that one means, My girlfriend is so beautiful and smart?” You look up at him, raising an eyebrow at his sudden attempt to appeal to you. “Because you are.”

You roll your eyes, a smile spreading over your lips. “Actually I was calling you a disgrace and wondering why I’m even dating you.”

“Not surprised,” he chuckles softly, but immediately closes the French textbook on the desk before the two of you. “Come on, you know I’m not good at this school thing. Mr. Qian already knew that when he asked you to tutor me. How about,” he tilts his head at you, about to put up an offer. “We ditch this tutoring session and go get some ice cream? On me.”

A purse of your lips tells him you’re considering it, and he adds, “If anything, I’m just studying more by being with a beautiful lady who speaks fluent French.”

You chuckle, leaning forward with pursed lips. “Je t'aime.”

“That one I know,” he smiles as he presses a sweet kiss to your lips. “Love you too. Now let’s go,” he says, standing and pulling you along by the hand.

'Cause every night she studies hard in her room At least that's what her parents assume But she sneaks out the window to meet with her boyfriend.

Carefully you climb down the side of the house, trying your best not to make any noise against the wall but also trying not to fall to your death. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as both your feet touch the solid ground.

“Going somewhere?”

Immediately you jump, eyes widened as you turn to meet the owner of the voice. “Donghyuck!” You hiss, voice still low. “I thought you were my dad!”

“Well, you can call me daddy too,” your boyfriend says as he approaches you to press a kiss on your cheek. The tip of his light chin stubble brushes on your skin as he does so.

“Don’t even joke about that,” you roll your eyes, allowing him to slide an arm over your shoulder and walk you down the street to where he parked his car out of view from your house. “So, where are we going?” “A friend’s party. His name is Mark.”

A cautious eyebrow is raised by you. “Will anyone from school be there?”

He shakes his head in response, knowing you can’t be spotted together especially with you under his arm at a college party of course. You’ve got to protect your precious reputation. “Nah, he’s in college. There’s no way he’d let high schoolers in.”

“We’re high schoolers, silly.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs before turning and grinning sinfully at you. “But we’re cool.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” you tease as he releases you and unlocks his car.

She may be clever but she just acts too square 'Cause in the back of the room where nobody looks She'll be with her boyfriend, she's not reading books.

As you slide up onto your tiptoes, the feeling of your boyfriend pressing against you is much too present and you scoff. “Can you stop being a horndog and get this book for me?”

“Darling,” he chastises, reaching up to grab it easily above you. “That’s what I was doing.”

As he hands the book to you, you roll your eyes. “Sure, like you weren’t trying to rub up on me.”

“Not at all,” responds Donghyuck, dark eyes glinting with mischief. You leave him behind as you turn into the next aisle, searching carefully for the next book you were looking for. As you get deeper into the library shelves, the light gets further away and the tall shelves begin to cast a shadow upon your hidden figures. “Why do you even wear your uniform, anyways? You know it’s not required by the school.”

“Yeah,” you respond matter-of-factly. “But as the vice president I should adhere to the suggestions set by the administration. Clearly you don’t care,” you say, glancing over his usual outfit of ripped jeans (which definitely didn’t fit normal dress code anyways) and his trademark leather jacket over a white Adidas shirt.

“Okay, but your president Huang Renjun is a lame virgin with a stick up his ass and even he doesn’t wear his uniform everyday,” retorts your boyfriend.

“More reason why I should have been president instead,” you respond, scanning over the back of a book sounding not at all petty.

“That’s because at the time, you were more focused on becoming my girlfriend than campaigning, you minx,” Donghyuck teases as you slide the book back into its place, unsatisfied with its synopsis. When you don’t respond, instead turning into yet another aisle, he follows you, fingers tugging slightly at your skirt. “That’s okay, I like the skirt anyways,” he says, his famous smirk over his lips as your mouth gapes and a flustered warmth slides up to your cheeks. “S’cute.”

She said to me, forget what you thought 'Cause good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

“Oh my god, Y/N,” Donghyuck already starts as he approaches you in the front of the school, already losing his bad boy personality in the fear that you’d be upset at him. “I’m so sorry.”

The two of you had been caught making out in the bleachers by a few members of the football team after school yesterday. Okay, perhaps it wasn’t the most discreet of places but you swore they’d announced over the intercom that football practice was cancelled for the day! Unluckily, it seemed a few players still wanted to get some practice in.

Surely, rumors flew in less than twenty-four hours. Y/N, with Donghyuck? No way. Impossible.

Yeah, that was what you thought too, until it happened. You fell for him, for all his rough edges and playful teasing. He doesn’t deserve to be hidden.

The smile you give him must throw him off, because he blinks. He’s probably forgotten his pre-made apology; he knows how important your reputation is to him. In his silence, you speak up.

“I don’t want to hide anymore. Let’s,” you propose as you interlace your hands, surely feeling eyes on you already. “Show them what a hot couple looks like.”

He blinks, eyes flying to your hands and it’s probably the first time you’ve seen the snarky Donghyuck speechless. He recovers smoothly, smirking and nodding. “Okay. Let’s blow them away.”

“But if you fail your French test in third period, I will break up with you.”

A boisterous laugh leaves his lips as he kicks open the doors to the school hallway. “Noted.”

Before the two of you enter the hallway to expose your unlikely clandestine romance to everyone, you lean up and whisper in his ear. “Je t'aime.”

“I know what that means,” he smirks as he presses a proud kiss onto your temple, and takes a step inside.

#neowritingsnet #dreamwritersnet #nct-writers #mlznet #haechan fluff #haechan angst #haechan scenarios #haechan imagines #haechan fanfic #nct dream jaemin #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct drabbles

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years ago

Note

If you are doing them the soulmate fic starter 3 or 9 for rexwalker? I love all your star wars stuff so much

soulmate au prompts

3. the one where you and your soulmate have matching marks on your bodies. 9. the one where your soulmate’s last words to you are written on your body.

Featuring marginally-less-terrible Jango with more excuses than usual.

------

The Kaminoans hate soul marks.

Rex knows this from the day he knows to ask. The Nulls and Alphas don’t have any soul marks, just scars where there was once a promise. The eldest clones have records, at least, where the scientists had taken photos before beginning th surgeries, but the marks themselves are long gone.

Prime had found out about the removals and thrown a fit, raging so intensely that Nala Se had ended up intubated from the damage he’d dealt, and she hadn’t been the only one. Rex isn’t old enough to remember that, but Cody is, and he whispers the story in the dead of night more than once. Nobody likes Prime very much, except Boba, but that’s one of the few instances they can point to and say ‘he cares more than he likes to admit.’

It’s anathema on Mandalore, one brother claims, a light in his eyes that Rex hasn’t ever seen before. That’s what I heard him telling one of the aruetti trainers.

So is refusing your children so much as a name, another grouses, and the conversation dies an ugly little death. So is letting your children die just because you don’t think they’re good enough. So is turning your back from even letting them be part of your house, let alone part of your clan. Sounds like he cares more about our soul marks than he does for our lives.

Rex doesn’t know how to address that. He does get a personal visit from Prime, one day, gets asked to show his little marking to the man that is, in some ways, his father.

“Another one,” Jango Fett mutters to the trainer that came with him, the woman holding a datapad and ready to record whatever it is that they’re looking for. He passes a thumb over the marking, frowning. “A lightsaber, lit white, with pale blue halo, between a set of symbolic Jaig eyes. The eyes are dark blue, slightly desaturated. I think they’re meant to frame it like an exaggerated beskad crossguard.”

“Sir?” Rex asks.

“That makes six,” Jango says, still so quiet, and then shakes his head. “Thank you for showing me, 7567.”

“Rex,” he corrects, before he can second-guess himself. “I’m Rex.”

“Thank you, Rex.”

------

The rumors say that anyone with a lightsaber soul mark is going to have a jedi for a soulmate.

Rex isn’t sure how true that is, but he’s eager to find out.

Prime gets more erratic, more unpleasant at times and almost awkwardly nice at others. Rex meets the others who got Jedi soul marks. He’s the youngest, so far.

Jango tells them all to hide the markings, and to keep them secret. They’d already all known that much, that only batchmates should be told about soul marks. All the adults that should know already do, after all.

“Where’s your dad going?” Rex asks once, when Boba’s been handed over to Cody’s squad for looking after while Prime goes haring off on some trip that nobody gets to know about. Rex hangs out with Cody’s squad more than his own batch, it feels like, but that’s a whole thing that he’s not supposed to talk about since the late transfer to command track.

“Dunno,” Boba says, kicking his feet back and forth. “My soul mark came in. Something about it made him really angry, I think.”

Rex doesn’t ask to see it.

It’s not his place.

------

The Alpha batch is getting quieter, angrier, and end up in hushed conversations with Prime and some of the trainers so often that the rumors start up harder than before. Rex keeps his head down, because the Kaminoans get antsier when Jango does. Soul marks come up more often, and Rex gets called in to talk to the Alpha clones about his mark. He’s not supposed to, but Prime says it’s important, and Prime is in charge.

“Oh, is that all it took?” one of the Alphas sneers, and Prime shoots them a look that has Rex taking a few hasty steps back. The Alpha clone isn’t even fully grown yet, by natborn standards, but they don’t back down. “What, ready to stop being a dar’buir--”

“That’s enough,” Prime says, low and hard, and the Alpha clone rolls their eyes. “There’s a child here.”

“So now you care about that?”

Rex is escorted back to his rooms.

------

Decommissioning finally stops, for all that it requires Jango almost decapitating a Kaminoan, and someone Rex hopes he never sees again shows up.

(His memory is blurred. He’s sure the man was human, and tall. Elderly enough to have white hair, probably? A... there was fabric that swished when he turned, something dramatic, but...)

(He is not the only one that cannot remember.)

It takes years for anything else to come of it all... at least where the clones can see.

------

Rex is fully grown, as far as clones go. His aging is supposed to slow down to ‘natborn normal’ now, because he’s reached his full height and most of his brainpower, and he’s officially old enough to fight on the field if the war starts tomorrow.

It might.

“Hey, look up.”

Rex listens, and looks, and sees a natborn with Nala Se, pale skinned and with reddish hair, soaked to the bone. They wear robes, brown and heavy-looking. Even as he watches, another natborn jogs up from behind, also sodden and pale, but with darker hair that sticks up despite the water. A third joins them, a tad slower and more controlled; this one wears all white, and they--maybe she?-- are slight and small and poised in a way that Rex thinks might be how a natborn leader carries themselves, if they aren’t a soldier.

They pass on through the walkway, showing emotions that the Kaminoans can’t read and the clones absolutely can. None of it is... good.

“Shit,” someone mutters. “That was a Jedi.”

“Venn--”

“What if they don’t want us?”

------

Rex is called to Prime’s rooms.

He tries not to look at the wide eyes of the brothers he’s been gossiping with, just stands and pulls on his full kit. He hesitates at his bucket, but then pops it on and marches to what might be his doom. It’s probably not.

He hopes it’s not.

He knocks, and is let in by Boba, and sits down on the couch when Prime tells him to. He removes his helmet when asked. Boba hops up onto the couch between Rex and his father, and leans in against Rex’s side.

There’s a list on the table, one he recognizes, quickly writing out all the paired elements on the Jedi-Clone soul marks. Nobody who isn’t already involved in the project would know it. He spots the ‘yellow tickets’ that Bly got tattooed on his face recently, the ones he won’t claim are or aren’t related to his mark. He spots his own listing of Jaig eyes.

“Prime?”

His... progenitor, maybe, in this situation, looks at him, and holds up a hand. “You saw the list. You can guess why Rex is here.”

Oh. Prime’s using his name without prompting. That’s nice.

“I can’t read it,” the younger Jedi says, with something that might be a pout. Rex wants to roll his eyes, but his helmet is on the table. People would see.

“It’s in Mando’a,” the elder tells him, voice low, and then glances between Rex and the younger Jedi. “Fett, how did you know which one to call? I can guess some things, but--”

“I have a good eye. The hilts are all different. Only one matches.”

“I see.”

Rex fidgets, and tries not to wonder at... at... oh. The younger Jedi’s lightsaber hilt does match Rex’s soul mark.

Boba notices when Rex starts picking at his glove, pressing a finger right to the mark on his wrist, and frowns up at him. He grabs Rex’s hand to still it, and tries to ask a question with his eyebrows. He is mostly unsuccessful.

“Anakin,” the elder Jedi says. Rex still doesn’t know his name. “Your hand, please?”

“Why?”

“...you’ll understand in a minute,” the Jedi says, long-suffering in the way of the trainers who dealt with the youngest cadets. “Your hand. No, the other one.”

“Why do you need my hand?”

“Reasons, Anakin. You there, ah... Rex, was it?”

“Yessir.”

The Jedi flinches. “Right. I suppose I’ll have to get used to that... right, Rex, can you come here? I imagine you know what it is that I’m looking to compare.”

Rex has been taught to listen to Jedi, but he has no idea who he’s supposed to listen to here. The older Jedi is probably in charge, but Rex hasn’t been assigned to anyone yet, so isn’t Prime still technically the closest thing he has to a CO?

He glances at Prime, who just gestures for Rex to go ahead with it.

Rex pulls off a glove, pulls back his sleeve, and bares the symbol on his wrist for inspection.

The younger Jedi’s face morphs from confused irritation to surprise, and then... something Rex doesn’t want to analyze too closely. He’s not sure if it’s wonder or horror. He wasn’t aware the expressions could look so similar.

The Jedi--Anakin--pulls back his own sleeve, moves his wrist to Rex’s and watches as the marks glow faintly from the proximity.

“Looks like Fett was right,” the elder Jedi mutters. He doesn’t sound happy. He looks at the other natborn, the one Rex is pretty sure is a woman, and raises an eyebrow.

She shakes her head, eyes closed.

“You said there were others?” the elder Jedi prompts, and Prime nods. “We are no more open about our marks than most, but I can spot one, maybe two, that I can guess at. I’d need to see the actual markings to confirm, of course, and I imagine that wouldn’t be something anyone would be happy with.”

“The rest can happen naturally,” Prime dismisses. “This was just proof.”

“Not just proof, I hope,” the Jedi mutters. “I’m.. I have to call the Council.”

Rex sees the panic in Anakin’s face, and is seized by the urge to do something, anything, to fix it.

“Obi-Wan, you can’t let them--”

“Nobody’s going to separate you,” the elder Jedi says. Obi-Wan, apparently. “And there’s no ‘let,’ Anakin, they outrank me. Significantly. Right now, I’m concerned about the implications of this war, of multiple of these cloned soldiers that have been indoctrinated to fight for and serve the Jedi having soulmates among us, especially given that I have no idea how recently our wartime protocols on such things were updated. There is an entire army that is supposedly in our name, ordered by a man ten years dead.”

“Count Dooku is involved,” Prime says, dark and satisfied and petty. “Calling himself Darth Tyrannus. The Kaminoans mostly believe he is an isolated and reclusive Jedi Master that serves as their contact when Sifo-Dyas is unavailable.”

The Jedi named Obi-Wan closes his eyes and breathes deeply, and then stands. “Right. That’s... well, alright, I absolutely have to call the Council now.”

Prime smiles, pulling Boba into his side. Rex finds himself tugged down to sit where Obi-Wan had been a few moments earlier.

“Why are you telling us all this?” the natborn woman says. “This Count sounds like he hired you, did he not?”

“The project predated his involvement, but yes, he’s my supervisor, so to speak.” Prime smiles that same dark smile, runs a hand over Boba’s head and pointedly doesn’t look at Obi-Wan. That smile is... unpleasant. Rex doesn’t want to look at it, and so he looks down to the faint glow at his wrist instead. “Did you know, they told me the clones would be sub-sentient and halfway to droids? Not really people? That my DNA was for the bodies, but the minds would be little more than lines of code? Do you know how much they hated that I saw the evidence of their lies written into my children’s skin?”

Rex jolts, head whipping about and hand pulling away from his soulmate, staring at Prime, his mouth agape in a way a soldier’s shouldn’t but--but he’s--

Rex has never, ever heard the Prime refer to any of them except Boba as his child. His copies, his echoes, his clones, but not his children.

A hand curls into his, and he looks down to find Anakin’s lacing their fingers together. He looks up into a hopeful, unsure smile.

Anakin tilts his head and leans in, lips to Rex’s ear, and says, “When I told Obi-Wan he was like a father to me, he didn’t even know how to respond. Just made a bad joke about it and then pretended it didn’t happen. Is this the same?”

“...close enough,” Rex breathes out, because now isn’t the time to explain just how different a clone’s existence is from what they’ve seen in the holos meant to prepare them for interacting with civilians. That ‘family’ here has always been brothers, your squad and any brother that chooses to take you on, or a brother you choose to nurture, that the Alphas raise them more than Prime or the trainers do, that the older squads are who they turn to because the adults won’t help, that they don’t have parents, and they are discouraged from thinking of children in their futures.

(Protecting intellectual property, one of the scientists had mused. They’d made it very, very difficult for any of the clones to impregnate a partner. Not impossible, because to make it impossible was itself impossible, but... nearly so.)

“There’s millions of us,” Rex says instead. “He doesn’t... he doesn’t usually acknowledge most of us as his.”

Anakin’s face twists, already angry, and the glare he aims at Prime is ghastly. Rex might already be a little in love, just for that. The way Anakin’s fingers squeeze around his is nice, too.

Prime does not notice.

“Can I see the contract you say you signed?” the natborn woman says, and Prime eyes her. He nods, at length, weighing her worth and finding she measures up to whatever it is that he’s decided is necessary.

“Boba, go pack like we’re going on a hunt,” Prime says, pulling out a personal datapad and only dropping his gaze to find the right file. “We’ll probably be leaving tonight.”

“Okay, buir,” Boba says, sliding off the couch. “Am I telling the Alphas the thing you said?”

“No, I’ll handle that myself. You just pack.” He stands, nods to the natborn woman, and moves around the table. “Senator, I’ll sit with you, if you don’t mind. I imagine you and Knight Kenobi are the best suited to get this problem fixed.”

“And me?” Anakin demands.

“You,” Prime says, with a just a hint of condescending drawl. “have just met your soulmate. I assumed you’d want some privacy to get to know each other.”

Anakin flushes, a little angry and a lot embarrassed. It’s frighteningly cute. “I--I mean--I don’t--”

“The clones are mentally the ages they look, but do remember they’ve had practically no time to gain any sort of experience,” Prime says, already ignoring them in favor of pointing something out on the datapad to the senator. “Take advantage of any of my kids, and I’ll be the one hunting you down. I’m told I’m rather good at it.”

Anakin’s face does some acrobatics. Rex would pay more attention, but he can feel himself turning just as red.

“Rex, you know where the private meeting room is,” Prime says, and waves a hand in the direction of the tiny, tiny office that’s by the door. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Be nice,” the Senator hisses, smacking Prime’s arm.

“He’s ten.”

“...still.”

Rex just stands and pulls Anakin away to the little room before things can get worse.

They’re delayed when Obi-Wan asks what they’re doing from the kitchen he’s been using to get a spot of privacy, but then Anakin says “we’re just going to talk, Master,” and they get an aggrieved sigh and a response of “the clothes stay on, padawan, and you’ll need to finish up whatever conversation you have soon, there’s work to do and being a padawan only excuses you from so much.”

Rex backs into the meeting room, yanks Anakin in, and then decides to throw caution to the wind and just press their lips together.

Oh.

Okay.

He’s kissing back.

Lack of caution: good.

The mark at his wrist thrums, warm and comfortable, and Rex pulls away. He stifles the noise he wants to make, and when Anakin whines, small and soft but clearly disappointed, Rex offers him a small grin he knows would get him called ‘shy’ by his asshole older brothers.

“We probably should actually get to know each other,” Rex says. “I don’t even know your last name.”

“I... yeah, I don’t know yours either, unless it’s Fett.”

“It’s not. I don’t have one.”

Anakin’s face does another one of those ‘I’m angry for you’ twists that Rex is quickly coming to recognize, and then he sighs and falls into one of the chairs. “Okay. So. I don’t know much about the soldier life. Tell me about it.”

And he does.

#Rexwalker #Anakin Skywalker #Captain Rex #Jango Fett #Obi Wan Kenobi #Padme Amidala #Soulmate AU #Phoenix Posts #Phoenix Answers Memes #star wars

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icequeenbae · 4 years ago

Text

Daddy’s Struggles (m) | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Dad!Baek, domestic au, established relationship (duh), a slice of life, fluff, a lil smutty(!)

Warnings: some friskiness between mom and dad if you know what I mean, mentions of teenagers watching porn (I’m not promoting it, you guys lol), also this gets fluffin’ sweet get a bucket in advance

Word Count: ~2.2k

Summary: Baekhyun overhears your teenage daughter watching porn. You have to handle a small crisis.

Event: the BBH day @supermwritersnet

Author’s Note: This… came out of nowhere:D I blame my dear beta @baekshoney – we'd once discussed the idea of Baek being a teenager’s parent (in relation to a different story). Don’t we all love dilf Baek though? lol Anyways, this is a tiny glimpse into his future as a cute af father and husband <3 Let’s name him puppydad!Baek 😊 I hope this lifts your mood a little on a day like this!

On that note – happy birthday to our genius idol (aka mochi-cheeked hyperactive puppy), I wish that he stays healthy and happy and on the radar throughout the next 2 years (and forever)!! Don’t be too sad, guys, he’s hopefully going to finally lead a somewhat normal life for a bit 💞 Ok, I’ll let you get to it already~

A yawn.

You rubbed your tired eyes and dictated a reminder for tomorrow morning to your AI assistant. It was pretty late and you had your hands full all day with your kids. And while family time was always great, there hadn’t been a spare moment for you to tend to your own business. But two decades of dealing with your hyperactive yet loveable children (and husband) taught you to make the most out of what you got. So you were doing just that, organizing your errands and sorting important emails after everyone had scurried off to their rooms, and your husband — to the shower.

Baekhyun was quite exhausted himself, so you realized he must’ve gotten in the common bathroom by the time you exited the one in your bedroom. He did that sometimes when you locked the door out of habit. Not that he couldn’t come in, it was just… You used to scold him pretty badly for breaking into the bathroom. Picking locks wasn’t something you wanted your juniors to acquire as a habit. They had enough of their daddy’s traits as it was.

The thought made you chuckle. Your eldest son had already outgrown his father by at least five and a half – gotta be precise here! – centimeters (which made daddy very proud, but also a teeny tiny bit jealous). Despite his height, which, you were sure, was going to break the golden 180cm in the next few months, your boy’s build was exactly the same as Baekhyun’s. His shoulders were broad, his hips wide, and his waist was naturally narrow. Legs long and lean, and eyes always mischievous. He was eighteen and already seemed more like Baekhyun’s best friend rather than his child. Being both the hyung and the oppa of the household, he was the most mature out of the bunch, and always a big help to his parents.

Your middle child, your precious daughter, resembled you a lot. Her wavy hair and her big eyes with the longest eyelashes either of you’d ever witnessed. Seriously, that was the first thing Baekhyun’s friends had commented on when they came by to meet your new baby. ‘Is this even normal? Can she see through those? That’s one pretty baby!’ She was even prettier now, at her sweet sixteen, cheeks still a bit chubby, which – just as her button nose – were definitely an homage to her dad. Not to mention her hands that were even more delicate and exquisite than his.

The youngest, your six-year-old son, was a blessing. You weren’t planning to have more children after the first two until you suddenly thought… why not? Cannot say that you weren’t a little bit under the influence at the time. It was one of those rare weekends when your kids had a sleepover at their grandparents’, so you had the whole house to yourself. Deciding to have a domestic date and enjoy shameless daytime drinking, you indulged in a whole glass of wine before both of you were tipsy and giggling, then you added one more to the mix. At that point, all kinds of crazy things were brought up.

‘We should do this more often…’ You informed your partner. ‘This is exciting! We can walk around naked the way we used to before we had teenagers in the house!’

‘I miss our naked Saturdays…’ Baekhyun whined, almost spilling his wine while trying to sip it gracefully. ‘Now I barely even see you naked with your shower locking obsession!’

Pursing your lips, you dismissed his complaint.

‘After that incident… You cannot blame me for my caution.’

The incident was, well, your son needing to use the bathroom while his sister was taking too long and heading to the one in your bedroom. He nearly walked in on… an adult scene.

‘He didn’t even see anything, Y/N-ah,’ your husband grumbled, but you waved him off, downing your drink as if it was a shot of tequila rather than a glass of wine.

‘I don’t see a problem though,’ he blinked at you, not following. ‘We’re alone. Why not… See each other naked again?’

‘Right. We can also- Y/N-ah!’

‘What?’ You eyed his suddenly enthusiastic form with nothing but suspicion.

‘We can create a distraction!’

‘Hm?’

‘A distraction for them. So that they’d be busy with something else while we’re away.’

‘Hmm?’ You still couldn’t locate the source of his excitement.

‘Lemme show you,’ he slurred, tugging on your wrist to get you up and dragging you to the bedroom.

Let’s have another baby – that was his brilliant idea. Had you both not been such poor drinkers, one of you would’ve thought this through.

Nevertheless, you were glad that you didn’t. Because your little angel, who could sometimes be more of a tiny demon, to be frank, was the single sweetest thing to ever exist on planet Earth. He had his entire family wrapped around his little finger, and you – most of all. How could anyone blame you? That troublemaker was the spitting image of his dad and had a personality to match — just as playful and affectionate.

The chill spring breeze from the window licked at the bare skin of your arm, causing you to shiver slightly, coming back from the land of reminiscing. You stretched on the bed, noticing how protruding your nipples became from the cold even while hidden by the gentle fabric of your nightgown. Pulling the covers up, you grunted under your breath, wondering what was taking Baekhyun so long.

Just as you did, the door cracked open, and your husband sauntered into the room.

‘Ah finally, I thought I needed to go rescue you again,’ you chuckled.

That had happened before. He once used the common bathroom to shower before bed and ended up captured by your daughter, who was around six or seven at the time, in the hallway. She then demanded cuddles, knowing that her father was too weak to turn his precious girl down and send her back to bed. You found them both huddled up asleep on the couch, with your husband’s head tilted dangerously to the side. Terrible sleeping postures always had consequences, so you spared him the agony of the next morning, waking him up mercifully and helping to get your little girl to her bed. This was only one of many occasions – Baekhyun was a softie.

This time, however, he was a bit stupefied.

He didn’t react to your remark and seemed like he was going on autopilot when he came closer and sat on the bed.

You lifted the covers, inviting him to join you, and he followed your lead, still staring at the wall across the room.

‘Yeobo,’ you called, getting slightly alarmed. ‘Are you okay?’

He blinked, the stupor breaking, and looked at you with astounded eyes.

‘I- I think,’ he began, making you shift to face him properly. ‘I think I just overheard our daughter watching porn!’

His voice lowered to a whisper by the end of that sentence.

‘Oh my god,’ you whispered back. ‘How do you figure?’

‘I was walking down the hallway, and I thought I heard something from her room. I didn’t fully register what it was, but now that it processed… It was definitely porn!’

The signs of distress on his face almost caused you to break down in a fit of laughter. You held it in with all you got. Fathers and daughters, the eternal struggle.

‘First of all, ew. Aren’t you even a little bit ashamed to be eavesdropping on your kids like that?’ You didn’t let him protest. ‘Also, how do you even know it was porn, you know she sometimes mumbles and whimpers in her sleep. Like someone else we know…’

Giving him a pointed look, you leaned over his chest to turn the lights to the lowest mode, leaving the room dimly lit. It was always effective when you wanted to help him relax.

‘I wasn’t ea- And you think I can’t tell what porn sounds like? There are some generic… sounds. That give it away.’

‘When was the last time you watched it?’ You murmured, eyeing him curiously.

Of all people, you knew best how short his attention span was. Sometimes it could work to your advantage. Like right now, when you needed to de-escalate this before you could reason with him.

‘I- wh- I don’t know, probably when you were pregnant,’ he recalled. ‘The third one was somehow the toughest on me. You looked way too attractive for a heavily pregnant lady, let me tell you.’

‘Heavily pregnant??’ You scoffed, softening right after. ‘Well, you have a point, he was pretty huge. I swear, if he doesn’t grow up to be taller than Chanyeol, I’d be offended. That boy’s giant head prolonged my healing by at least a month.’

Baekhyun sighed and looked up at the ceiling, thinking back to that time.

‘He was the only one who caused you to tear, right?’

‘Yeah. Which is weird, considering that he was my third one. Ah well, I guess I’m not getting any younger…’

‘Aren’t you though? I’m constantly being asked about my pretty young wife,’ Baekhyun smiled at you charmingly. ‘And you only became prettier after the third pregnancy. I say it’s the hormones.’

Your cunning little plan was working. He was incredibly easy to distract.

‘Tell me the truth, was it the boobs? Or my butt? I did gain the most weight with the little daredevil, that’s for sure.’

‘It was all of you. You always looked so sexy when pregnant, I just wanted to have you all to myself,’ he cooed at you. ‘To feed you handpicked strawberries. And smother you with kisses. My beautiful young wife.’

At some point during this conversation, you shuffled closer to each other, now cuddled up snugly on the bed. Your finger slowly traced abstract patterns on his chest, happily exploiting the access to his skin where his pajama shirt was unbuttoned.

‘Ah, you’re just saying that to get under my nightgown,’ you batted your eyelashes at him, and he shook his head.

‘Maybe a little, but that’s true. And it’s not surprising that people are noticing – you are younger than me.’

‘A couple of years is nothing at our age,’ you murmured, bending your knee and moving your leg slightly up his to get cozy.

‘Well, you know what people say… Small kids make parents younger. Wanna have another one?’ He nudged you gently and laughed at the dirty look you gave him.

‘Yeobo- please don’t make jokes like this. I’d rather look for other elixirs of youth than go through that entire ordeal again.’

You knew that he was kidding, but the thought made you shiver.

‘I know, honey, I know. Like I said, you’re not in need of any elixirs.’

At this you relaxed, melting into his shoulder, and guiding his arm to wrap around you, warming your exposed shoulders.

‘Well, Mr Byun, same to you. Still as charming as two decades ago.’

‘Hey, I’d like to think that I’m more charming now. The experience and all.’

‘Who helped you gain all that experience though?’ You poked him lightly, and a low chesty laugh escaped his lips.

‘Of course, it was my one and only, my young, and beautiful, and smart and sexy little wife,’ he punctuated each compliment with a chaste kiss to your cheeks, nose, lips, and neck.

You squirmed in his arms.

‘Ah, you make a woman go mad,’ you purred into his lips mockingly.

He snickered softly, ready to lean in, but then stopped abruptly.

‘Wait a second- What about-’

‘Baekhyun…’ You murmured as he fussed on the bed.

‘I should probably go in there, and-’

‘And what? Embarrass your daughter?’ You held him down. ‘She’s sixteen, honey, it’s just the hormones. We’ve both been there. Let her be.’ You nuzzled his neck, pressing your lips to his sensitive skin lazily.

His mind was growing cloudy again since your hand was now caressing his inner thigh foxily. He’d probably realized what you were doing by now, but you were right, so he allowed you to sway him into giving the idea of an immediate intervention up.

‘Besides, I’m sure you wouldn’t be nearly as appalled if that was our eldest,’ you scoffed and added in an exaggerated tone. ‘Never took you for a sexist.’

‘But- he’s eighteen, and she- she’s my little girl…’ He mumbled in a small voice, hazed further by your not-so-subtle seduction. ‘I can’t let her- watch that-’

‘Don’t worry, yeobo,’ you whispered soothingly in his ear, slipping your hand into his loose pants. ‘I’ll talk to her tomorrow. Without you. No need to traumatize the poor girl, that’s how daddy issues develop.’

‘You should know,’ he bit back meekly, sighing when you finally wrapped your fingers around his semi-hard length.

‘The sass! It’s almost like you still got it, Mr Byun. Care to impress that young wife of yours?’

‘I sure will, you cunning woman,’ he growled playfully, completely giving in to it and attacking your laughing mouth as he lifted the covers over your head.

A/N: Thank you for reading! As usual, feel free to share your thoughts in the comments/ asks, and if you’re new – check out my Masterlist ^^

#theBBHday #baekhyun smut #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun scenario #exowritersnet #supermwritersnet #baekhyun event #baekhyun fanfic #dad!Baek #puppydad!Baek #icequeenbae fics

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cheelduh · 4 years ago

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How to tie up a cute boy

(Highschool Au)

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Parts: 1 2 3

Word count: 4K

Warnings: Swearing, Scaramouche abuse, no Signora slander this time, shit humour.

Synopsis: "Why are you doing homework?" Childe groans, rolling off to the side and kicking off the blanket to expose himself in nothing but a pair of boxers. "I'm literally right here, naked and defenseless. Why aren't you taking advantage of me?"

Note: Unedited yet again besties. Tysm for reading :) I got Childe after losing him to mf MONA, istg it was the most stressful moment of my life.

The clock ticks with its pendulum, ridiculing you as it holds the time. The gentle whirring of the air conditioning in the background serves as the icing on the cake to your pent up aggression.

You try not to glare at your phone too much after receiving a text from Childe that told you not to worry, that his dad picked him up and that he was in the comfort of his home, letting the flu blow over.

It took a lot of convincing from his part earlier that morning to get you to go back and actually attend the rest of your classes, making sure to check up on him every break plus the additional "bathroom breaks" you usually never take while in class.

"I can't let you get in trouble for me." He murmured with a small smile that pumped your blood a little faster than usual. "I'm fine, really. Don't worry your pretty little head."

You do exactly that.

You don't even know why you're so worried. He's sick, not dying. Not to mention, you aren't even his girlfriend let alone his friend to care so much.

Your intrusive thoughts don't waste any time. You latch onto the one thought that takes over. He's probably dead. Lying in his bed in a heap of pillows, passing peacefully while his parents are in the other room. He's dead.

Okay, he's not dead. You intrusive thoughts sure do one hell of a job. He'll be fine, and in no time he'll go back to being a reckless distraction in your life that you need to surpass. Just another obstacle to add onto the list of things life has thrown at you.

But for an obstacle, he sure is kind of cute.

You refrain from bashing your head on the desk. School isn't really a preferred environment on your list of top ten places to shrivel up and die.

Speaking of death and all that is evil, why is Childe always on your mind? He takes up every nook and cranny of your day, constantly, and truth be told it's starting to boil your piss.

Every time you close your eyes you see his smug smile, and hear his stupid laugh. He's an annoying little prick who gets a rise out of exasperating you. Yet here you are, terrified by the warmth that blossoms in your heart when you so much as hear his name.

The final bell rings at long last, conveniently before you bite your tongue to avoid screaming, and not another second is wasted once you launch yourself out the door. You dodge through the crowd of students in the hall that are buzzing in excitement from it being a Friday afternoon, and you would be too if you weren't so damn hung up over a ginger with a battlekink.

Locker in view, you make a beeline and spend the next two minutes fumbling with the lock in your hands.

"Woah there cutie," Lisa speaks up playfully. "At this rate you'll break the poor lock with your bare hands."

For a moment you're surprised at her sudden appearance, but then remember that it's normal for her to worm her way anywhere.

"It's just—this lock is being dumb okay? It has no reason being a pain in my ass but it wakes up every day and chooses violence." You hiss through your teeth, a sharp metallic ring invading your ears when you lose it and jostle the combination lock against the door of your locker.

Lisa winces, but smiles teasingly nonetheless. "Want me to give it a try?"

"Please."

Lisa has the door open at record speed.

"I love you Lisa." You confess wholeheartedly, gripping at your chest. "I love you so much—"

"Yeah yeah," She waves you off with a grin. "Now hurry up and go save your boyfriend from the common flu. Archons knows he won't make the night."

You flush at the word "boyfriend" and don't give much thought to the insinuation that lies within the rest of her sentence.

Sliding your skateboard under an arm, you spin on your heel just to bump straight into Scaramouche, who's won the scowl of the century on his face. He's the last person you want to see right now, but apparently the universe wants to have a pissing match with you.

"Give this homework to that idiot Ginger." He shoves a stack of papers into you. "Tell him that once he's done circling the drain, I'm gonna kick his ass." He then leans in, murderous glint in his eyes. "And if you ever touch me again I'll take a shit in your cereal. That's not a threat, it's a promise."

You shiver at the thought of him squatting on your Cheerios, hands becoming clammy as you try and justify yourself. "It was an accident."

Your pitiful excuse earns you nothing from the navy haired boy. "It'll be an accident when I murder your entire family, three generations over."

"Hi Mona!" You wave excitedly over his shoulder at the body of students that are totally not Mona. With elation he fails to conceal, Scaramouche turns to look at the speed of light.

You take the chance to make your escape—not before waving to Lisa, chuckling to yourself. He's down bad.

With great expertise you file your way through the flock of students chattering near the entrance. , you confidently place your skateboard down on the sidewalk, ready to—

Wait—where does he live again?

You sigh heavily, ignoring the sadness as you thank the universe internally for pulling the reigns on your disastrous plan. Checking up on Childe at his house? With his family present? Making a complete fool out of yourself? What are you thinking? The possibilities are horrendous. He probably doesn't even think of you like that, he just likes a challenge and you pose as one.

You turn away to make a run for it in the direction of your home, all the while ignoring the nagging worry in your chest for Childe. He's probably fine anyways, you don't need to check up on him, and if you did he'd likely find a way to spin it and tease you relentlessly.

Although somehow, the thought of being teased by him isn't as dreadful as you'd like it to be.

Suddenly, an idea graces you, one that guarantees your misery by sating your obligation to check up on Childe. A litany of curses escape your mouth. Genius really, the amount of ways you can think of doing something that'll end in your demise.

"Adeptus Xiao." You whisper apprehensively, already regretting your decision. "Adeptus Xiao." Glancing around your surroundings, you barely notice the shadow that looms over you at your backside.

"What do you want mortal?" Unbeknownst to you, he strikes out of nowhere, making you jump back several meters. You manage to muffle a surprised shriek.

Xiao is Venti's -6 ft boyfriend, the vicious epitome of an eboy. He has a scaled tattoo covering up the majority of an arm, a few piercing holes in his ears, all matched up with a disinterested look. Somehow, he always appears out of nowhere if you call out his name. It's sort of disturbing in a way.

His amber eyes pierce through you, forcing a shudder of fear and dread to lace your blood, almost as if he can sense you shittalking him in your head.

With shaky hands, you ask, "Can you tell me where—"

"No."

"You didn't even hear me ou—"

"No."

"Please?"

He refuses to at least pretend to think about it for a moment.

"No."

"Why?" You frown, stomping your foot on the ground childishly.

"Because." He retorts with a lack of interest, but doesn't further explain his point. English teachers must love this kid.

"Okay," You say slowly, casually inspecting his form as you come up with an idea, briefly remembering Lumine mentioning it to you. "How about I give you my share on almond tofu Tuesday."

The lack of interest on his face wavers slightly. Bingo.

"What do you want mortal?" Xiao mutters gruffly, arms crossed, face morphing into subtle annoyance.

You wrack your brain for a proper answer. You can't just outright ask him or it'll seem like you have a thing for Childe, which you unfortunately do, but you'd like to keep a semblance of integrity. Ah yes, the homework!

"I gotta deliver these to Childe." You outstretch the pile of worksheets in your hands. "Except I don't know where he lives. Can you tell me?"

Xiao's eyes glint with danger. "Did you summon me for the trivial task of giving you an address?"

You nod furiously.

"Do humans have no shame?" Its rhetorical. Expressionlessly, he closes his eyes with intent focus, doing what you assume to be locating Childe's exact location.

He blinks an eye open, reaches a hand out. "Give me your phone." Palm waiting.

You hand it over to him almost desperately.

One glance at your bubbly phone case and he doesn't even try to hide his distaste. He taps a few times, then hands it back to you almost immediately.

On the screen is maps, and Childe's home is about a fifteen minute walk away.

Your jaw drops in disbelief. "How did you do that?"

"Easy," He mutters, leaning back against the school gate as the remainder of students walk past the two of you. "Locating demons that need subjugating is but a simple task."

There's a pregnant pause. Demon.

"Childe's a demon?" You gasp, even though you've always had your suspicions. Hence the reason you invest so much in demon-cancelling charms.

"What? No." He mutters with a roll of his eyes, and you note that his irritation grows the more questions you ask. "I had a physics project with him last semester."

That's why the charms don't work.

Your mouth forms an o, in fear that if you keep this conversation going on any longer, he'll snap at you. Especially when your next line of interrogation involves how he's able to appear and disappear into thin air.

It's a magic trick you'll want to master whenever Il Dottore has another conniption fit in the middle of the hallways after Kaeya tells him he looks like he has skid marks.

"Thank you." You say instead, trying to preserve his regard, but by the time you meet his gaze he's already gone with the wind.

—

Childe's home is surprisingly humble, considering the amount of fat stacks of cash he carries around in his fanny pack so care-freely. It's a normal suburban home from what you can tell, a little bigger than normal with a double garage, neatly mowed lawn and a few forgotten decorations from the windblume festival. A series of water guns lay forgotten near the entrance, making their presence known when you stumbled upon them.

It's hard to remain unphased. Especially since such a normal looking home has bred someone as ruthless as Childe.

Maybe it not the home, you think. Maybe it's the way he was raised. You recall a few glimpses of his mother in middle school, but because of your worse for wear memory retention, you can't ballpark her personality type.

As your thoughts wander further down to his parents and early childhood, villain origin story and what not, you're pulled out of your concentration when the door opens. The possible implications of being here are most definitely not in your favor.

Childe's mother is a stunning woman in her mid-forties who sure as hell doesn't show it in that jaw-dropping sapphire dress, topped off with a brilliant smile that makes your knees weak. Like mother like son, you suppose.

With her sudden appearance, strangely enough, you can remember how good her tiramisu bites are.

You take a moment to respond, swallowing thickly, only to stare at her stupidly.

His mother doesn't waste another second before ushering you in, oblivious to your star-struck expression. "Y/N? L/N Y/N? My have you grown. I remember when you were only this tall." She lifts her hand up a little above her waist, the jewels on her fingers dazzling with every movement. "How is your mother doing?"

"She's doing alright, busy with the clinic." You're able to find your words, smiling back at her, able to get somewhat familiar with her warmth. "I hope I'm not intruding. Childe forgot some homework." You say, heaving the short stack up.

"Ajax?" She laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe he's going by that now. I wonder when this phase will be over. He may act tough but he's such a softie, has the biggest heart."

You, in between concealed emotions and giggles that threaten to leak, try to hide the oncoming grin but it's impossible. "Well he's got you to thank for it."

"You flatter me too much Y/N," She fixes the up do, pinning back the blonde hair that deftly frame her familiar cerulean eyes. "I can see why he can't stop talking about you."

Her words make you waver momentarily. The fondness you've refused to share, the drawn out stares in the halls, the lingering touches, you don't want to acknowledge it but it's there. Whatever it is.

"I'm so sorry for cutting this short dear," His mother sighs, grabbing her keys off the counter and placing her wallet in an elegant handbag. "My niece is getting married and we're already late. I told Ajax I'd stay if he didn't feel too well but he said he could handle a headache. That boy, I swear, always tries to power through."

You nod in understanding, but wait a minute. A headache?

Scrunching up your face, eyebrows furrowed, you ask. "Headache?"

She frowns, applying another layer of her rouge lipstick hastily in a nearby mirror. "I know dear, how unfortunate. The school nurse said it's a migraine, and I shouldn't fret much, but a mother can't help but worry. If only he weren't so stubborn, like his father."

As if on cue, a loud honk comes from outside.

"That must be him!" She exclaims, hurriedly sliding in her heels, turning back to look at your awkward figure. "Ajax is in his room, it's the second door to the right upstairs. I've made some lasagna for the kids, you ought to have some as well, I'll be upset if you don't—" Another annoying honk cuts her off, to which she scoffs, shaking a fist. "That old man, I'll strangle him in his sleep. I must be going now, goodbye dear." She reveals a twinkling smile at you one last time, waving a slim hand before picking up her heels and making a run for it.

The door closes with an unceremonious thud, gust of wind in its trail, leaving a bewildered high schooler in its wake.

Snapping out of your haze, overwhelming tides threaten to drown you whole. Being in Childe's home, alone, with him a handful of stair steps and a wall or two away, your cheeks are set ablaze.

Now that his mother's gone, you take a second to really look. There are a few toys littered in front of the TV, home covered in with soft throws and coordinated cushions, a lazy sectional plopped right in the middle. The marks on the furniture with all the stories, the light hued mismatched frames hanging on the walls and on all the table, so many pictures of those that resemble him, his brothers, his sisters, his family. You can almost hear the echoing laughter in the halls, the childish squeals and pitter patter of tiny feet slapping the hardwood floor.

This is where he grew up. This is where he retires to after a long day full of gratifying fistfights. This is where he was raised to be who he is today, ambitious and reckless, with the absurd dream to one day rule the world. This is his home.

It's...like being wrapped in blanket, safe and cozy, surrounded by all the love in the world.

Absentmindedly, your fingers trace the outlines of a younger Childe, two missing teeth and eyes full of dreams, hugging the side of his father's shoulder because his small arms can't wrap around them. Not just yet.

You make your way over to the staircase, which has even more frames littered across the wall, one that falls short of hiding the marks of a green crayon—another slice of domesticity you aren't quite accustomed to.

The reality sets in, and you come to a conclusion. This home is definitely not an environment for growing psychopaths, Childe just beats the odds like he beats up kids on the daily.

Your fist hovers over his door as you contemplate abandoning the sheets on a nearby table, but his mother was so sweet and polite, so incredibly hospitable, you wouldn't have the heart to make a run for it.

"I can see why he can't stop talking about you."

Three consecutive knocks. If he doesn't answer, you'll leave them at the door.

"Mama," Childe's muffled groans stem from the other side, and oh, you want to revel in the grave undertone of his voice because it's certainly not a common occurrence. "I told you I'm fine. You can go okay? I don't want you to be late, just need to sleep it off."

You blink, lips curling, and then knock again.

"Mama," He whines again, and it has you grinning mischievously. He's a mommy's boy, he has to be. The thought envelopes your heart with a newfound fondness. "Just come in and hurry."

You eagerly take in the room once you slip in, eyes scanning over every little detail, until they zero in on the heap of sheets smack dab on the single bed, a pair of feet dangling off the edge, topped with a comforter thrown over leisurely.

Childe's facing away from you, head dipped in between his shoulders, probably trying to find a position that's more comfortable. He's shivering, sweating at the same time. His mother must've been too preoccupied to notice. This isn't the first time he's used his exceptional bullshitting finesse.

"I can't believe you lied to your mother," You cross your arms, leaning back against the door.

With a jerk, Childe flings into a sitting up position, wide awake and aware of everything that is going on, a stark contrast from nearly seconds ago.

He blinks at you in shock, once, twice, rubs his eyes a bit, relaxes, then leans back, out of it completely. "For a sleep paralysis monster, you sure are kind of cute."

"For and idiot you sure are an idiot." You snort back.

"Wait a minute," He mutters slowly, jaw dropping. "You're actually here?!"

Ignoring his question, you opt to slap the papers on his desk to ignore your clammy palms. "Homework."

"And here I thought you came here all this way to be my personal nurse." He smirks, recovering from his momentary shock fairly swiftly. Doesn't refrain from giving you that shit stain of a bad boy grin, even with a flushed face and concavity under his eyes.

"I can be your personal mortician instead."

"I didn't know you were into role play babe, but I'll take what I can get." He winks, but is punished by a sequence of coughs that earn a wince from you.

"Headache?" You tease after he quiets down, but he remains as cavalier as always.

He sighs, sides of his lips still arched upwards. "My parents barely have any time to themselves, it's so hectic with the kids. What kind of son would I be if I couldn't even give them this?"

He must've threatened Barbara.

"You're," You inhale, briefly letting the silence hang between you two, mulling over what you wish to convey. sweet.

"Irresistible? Hot? Sexy?" He starts casual, arrogant smirk widening.

"Kind of not a complete asshole, is what I was going to say."

"Careful girlie," He narrows his eyes on you, playful lilt in his tone. The comforter is allowed to slip past his shoulders to reveal the goods that lie underneath, the complete naked chest of a post-puberty highschool boy who sprays too much axe. Full pectorals are something to pay for, stringed with smooth muscles that ripple their way over his toned shoulders. "If you keep teasing me like this, I can't promise I'll be the nice guy."

"One more time from the top," You bite back, avoiding staring at him for too long. "Without the congested nose this time."

With great expertise, he weakly throws a pillow at you, and you watch it exceptionally land at your feet, barely grazing the tips of your socks.

"Impressive," You whistle, not impressed.

He pouts, shivers, then is dunking his head back into the welcoming embrace of his plush collection of pillows.

With a sigh, you plop down on his chair, grab a pen and begin calculating derivatives.

"What're you doing?" He doesn't even turn your way, voice muffled.

"Homework," You reply nonchalantly, trying to calm your nerves. "unless you want me to get you something to eat, considering you puked out your gogurt on Barbara's shoes earlier. Congrats by the way, you're hit listed by her fan club."

"Why are you doing homework?" He groans, rolling off to the side and kicking off the blanket to expose himself in nothing but a pair of boxers. "I'm literally right here, naked and defenseless. Why aren't you taking advantage of me?"

He really has an IQ below room temperature.

Burying the formidable obligation to clock him in the face on behalf of society, you slowly get up to approach his bed, to which he grins widely in disbelief.

Apprehensively, you climb onto his bed, and he scoots over, excitement as clear as day. His hair's a wild mess from all the shifting, almost makes you want to card a hand through it. Your heart nestles it's way in your throat at the sight of his blazing blue eyes.

You pity him for what you're about to do.

"Relax Childe," You lean over him with confidence you never knew you had to begin with, face hovering inches before his. Your fists strategically grip the comforter on either side of him. "We have all day after all."

Although you attempt to pay no heed to his quivering hand that snakes up to find solace on your hip, you momentarily shiver at the tenderness.

He's eating this up and leaving no crumbs. Closing his eyes in anticipation, his lips tremble when he tries to close in the distance.

Abruptly, you cross both handfuls of sheets over his body, tying them securely in place to keep him docile. He struggles in your grip, eyes snapping open in surprise. "Wuh-What."

"Did you really think you had a chance?" You cross your arms, stepping back to get a good look at your handiwork.

"Honestly?" Childe huffs, struggles some in his restraints. "I wasn't really thinking."

"Typical," You scrunch your nose up, unscrunch, and then exhale. "You stay here and I'll go make you some soup. Well, not that you can really move but you get the idea."

"You're really going to leave me here like this?" He pouts cutely, melting you, and the sick bastard knows of his power.

"Relax," You wave a hand, "I may be evil but I'm not Scaramouche."

Meanwhile, Scaramouche sneezes as he tries to ask Mona out, falling straight on his ass from the kick back, making a complete fool out of himself. Mona doesn't mind though, finds it endearing.

Back at Childe's room, he raises a brow, expectant.

Going through the five stages of grief, you do something you've been wanting to do for a while, succumbing to the immense feeling.

Closing in the distance between you two, you suck in a breath and gently tilt Childe's head to the side. He blinks quickly, not quite expecting your sudden forwardness, about to say something that doesn't matter as soon as you place a tender peck on the side of his cheek.

Time stops, the world coming to a halt completely. A moment made in history, one you won't ever forget, fresh in both your minds from forward on.

And then you stagger away as if you've been stabbed.

"Soup!" You squeak, appalled by the sheer boldness of your actions. "I'll go make soup while you rest."

Childe, frozen, stares at you incredibly confused, and then beams.

Dear Archons, what have you done.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshot #childe x reader #childe #fanfic #genshin oneshot #kaeya alberich #dottore #genshin tartagalia #tartagila #lumine genshin impact #mona genshin impact #aether #barbara genshin impact #ajax x reader

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ahtsumu · 4 years ago

Text

again and again and again ; ushijima wakatoshi

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader

synopsis: every august 13th, a void opens in your chest. the universe is one sick bastard.

tag(s): soulmate!au, very angsty, equally fluffy, reincarnation!au, prince!ushijima, rebel!ushijima. android!ushijima, dad!ushijima, pro-volleyball player!ushijima ; warning(s): lots of death n dying, suggestive themes, light profanity ; wc: 4.8k

a/n: happy birthday ushi!!! inspired by cloud atlas and the raven cycle but you don’t have to have seen either to understand this fic. tbh it’s just a bunch of different au’s tied together by the strings of fate lol. a thousand thank you’s to @dorkyama for beta-ing!

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2020

It’s another August 13th and Ushijima Wakatoshi might die today.

Glumly, you push away the plate of breakfast in front of you, cross your arms over the new space, and rest your forehead down as if in front of a grave.

“Please,” you beg with eyes shut. “Let Ushijima Wakatoshi live today.”

(You’ve whispered this phrase infinite times–– so often that it has a home in your mouth like a cavity.)

SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON, 2012

When you first meet Ushijima–– the first first time–– it’s evening and you’re lost in a meadow somewhere in Washington. Where exactly doesn’t quite matter and, even if it did, you wouldn’t be able to remember. At least, not at this moment. Because you see something most peculiar.

Under the half-lit sky, in the glade of overgrown sweet vernal grass and marigolds and daisies, a figure stands paler than the moon overhead.

The body belongs to a young man dressed in a sweater and slacks. His dark hair parts on the side, stopping right above a pair of firm dark eyes. Thin lips press in a perfunctory line, sharp nose radiates an aura of authority.

And yet, he looks lost.

“Hello?” you call out. The boy doesn’t respond, only continues to hover in the middle of the clearing with the same confounded expression on his face. So you ignore the pounding of your heart in your chest and inch closer until you’re just feet away, shivering. It’s a strangely cold day for July, you think.

“Can you tell me your name?” you ask. Seconds pass in silence as he stares past–– no, through–– you. With your thudding heartbeat and shallow breaths still the only sounds in the meadow, you realise that you may have to try something else.

Gently, you touch the pads of your fingers to his shoulder. A fresh wave of ice floods through your veins, raising goosebumps all over your skin. More curiously, though, your fingers fall through said shoulders. It feels like plunging your hand into a bucket of ice.

Eyes wide, you lunge backwards. A ghost?

No, ghosts aren’t real.

(If that’s the case, then what is he?)

At your touch, the boy’s head jerks up. Life floods his gaze. Blinking, he says, “Ushijima.” His voice is low and smooth, but quiet. Firm. He looks around the meadow as if seeing it for the first time.

“Is that all?”

Ushijima’s focus returns to you, this time with the addition of furrowed brows. His eyes are fixed on you in a way that makes you feel as if he’s reading your soul.

“That’s all there is.”

A million questions race through your mind and before you can decide which to ask first, his incorporeal figure vanishes from the meadow.

And you’re alone again.

Oddly enough, the way back to your aunt’s house comes naturally to you. Once inside the ancient wooden manor, you realise that the feeling that guided you back was the same that had led you to the meadow in the first place.

Then, you wonder, had you truly been lost?

Aunt Risa’s an eccentric woman in her thirties, always yabbering on about Mercury in retrograde and events that are yet to happen. Grandma had been the same. Clairvoyance, or what everyone claims is “clairvoyance”, supposedly runs in your family. You wouldn’t know, though, because apparently it skipped your mother. Coincidentally (or not), she’s extremely proud of her normality. And she’s also extremely proud that you, supposedly, are normal, too.

It’s safe to say that you don’t see your mother’s family often.

Still, she sent you here from New York to “connect with your roots”. And even though you know that’s a cover for “raise hell somewhere else for one summer”, you let yourself consider that it means getting acquainted with the mystic mumbo-jumbo you’ve ignored all these years. After all, nothing normal can explain what just happened in the field… right?

Good thing Aunt Risa isn’t normal.

“That’s Glendower’s Meadow you were just in,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes. “Lies atop a very powerful ley line.”

Ley lines, you learn, connect places around the world through electromagnetic forces. They are also able to transcend time, gravity, space… all forces that cannot be seen.

Aunt Risa adds that they do more than just connect places. “Soulmates countries apart can step on any point in the same line to see each other. It’s been said that the power ley lines emit is so strong that even soulmates worlds and years apart can meet in these little pockets of energy. Guess it tides you over til you’re destined to meet.”

Somehow, everything she says makes sense and doesn’t at the same time. Soulmates? Magic? None of this is real, is it?

“Now,” she continues, “it’s odd that you can use ley lines, though. Remember how you couldn’t tell a black jackal from a swan the last time you read tea leaves?”

You frown. At seven years old, you hadn’t exactly been trying.

“I guess there is something supernatural about you! You can’t deny how magical it is to have a love that transcends lifetimes…”

You don’t hear the rest of what she has to say. “Lifetimes?”

“Yup. Soulmates are the only people in this universe who go through reincarnation. The Universe is a hopeless romantic, letting her children fall in love again and again and again.”

And this explanation satisfies you because you’re sixteen, a little naive, and the Universe has never failed you before.

(She will.)

July passes in a honeyed haze: you spend every day with a content curve to your lips, thinking about a boy with eyes and hair dark as night.

Aunt Risa doesn’t have the heart to tell you that she’s seen his future in this life. And when you step out the creaky wooden door for the last time, ready to go back to the bustling jungle that is New York, she calls out to you with an expression you don’t yet recognise. “Don’t you worry, hun. You’ll see that Ushijima boy again.”

But not like this.

You’re about to get out of bed and dress for the first day of school when an out-of-control eighteen-wheeler runs his driver’s black SUV off the road. Ushijima Wakatoshi dies on August 13th in his timezone.

As it happens, you feel a strange sense of loss settle in. It’s like you’d been driving on the highway and just missed the last turn home.

(You’ll learn in the next life that you, in fact, do not have the gift of foresight. But you do have the curse of memory.)

PARIS, FRANCE, 1749

The year is 1749 and sunlight pours through the windows of Ushijima Wakatoshi’s second-floor bedroom.

In this life–– your second life–– you are a brilliant composer. The Universe, as you’ve guessed, follows no rules, no directions. Doesn’t even spare a glance at a linear timeline. Or perhaps, it’s time that isn’t linear. Either way, you try not to think about things out of your control. Life is good now.

At the sound of your fingers waltzing across ivory and ebony, Ushijima slowly sits up in the king-sized, soft linen sheets falling to reveal his chiselled torso.

“Good morning,” he rasps, a content smile tugging at his lips. “You look enchanting as always.”

The melody stops. Between the lid and music rack, your eyes meet–– his gentle, yours mirthful. “You flatter me,” you deny with a cheeky grin. Still, you rise (wearing his robes, Ushijima notes) from your seat and stroll over to your lover, pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. “Happy birthday, darling.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs against your lips. “I live another year just for you.” Ushijima really means that–– in fact, he believes with his whole heart that he was made for you and you him. There’s no other way to explain how your bodies mould so perfectly together, how you understand each other without even speaking, how time feels like it doesn’t exist whenever you’re around. Your meeting at Duke La Trémoille’s ball could only have been the work of Fate’s nimble fingers.

(It was. A ley line runs underneath the Duke’s family château.)

You hum, thankful that this time you have the privilege to love him as he lives. Your last life was spent agonising over the only memory you had of him. “And what does this day have in store for the man of the hour?” The words that leave your lips morph into bubbling laughter as he moves aside on the bed and pulls you into his embrace. Still giggling, you kiss his bare chest, relishing in how secure his arms feel around your waist.

“Mother is hosting a ball tonight in my honour,” he says. That you are not invited to, he doesn’t add. He doesn’t have to, though, because you know that she doesn’t approve of you. Not being French is the main reason why, but there’s also the fact that you’re a musician. A talented, accomplished, royally recognised musician, sure, but that doesn’t change how at the end of the day, all you have to your name is inked paper.

And Ushijima Wakatoshi is first in line for the throne of France.

“Ah.”

It’s hardly fair for you to feel slighted–– you knew what you were getting into the second the Crown Prince, notorious for his aloof nature, invited you to Versailles to perform for him and his friends.

(In his defense, Duke Tendou had forced his hand by threatening to throw a fit in front of the Queen, but only after he’d seen the painfully restrained wonder in the prince’s eyes.)

Still, you yearn for something more.

Ushijima feels your body stiffen in his arms and knows the moment has soured. “You can never be Queen of France,” he murmurs into your neck. Shivers crawl down your spine the same time tears prick at your eyes. “And I can never give you a throne.” It’s not the throne you yearn for.

“I know.” You curse whoever the lucky girl will be. And you curse Ushijima for reminding you that she will definitely not be you.

“I can only promise you my heart.” He presses his lips to the side of your neck. “My undying devotion.” A kiss to your exposed shoulder. “And my soul in every life we meet.” His hand slides under your chin and turns your head towards his. Soft lips move against yours while the pads of his fingers wipe away the tears that had spilled over your cheeks.

“Toshi, I must say that the literature tutor your mother hired is doing a marvellous job,” you murmur once you pull apart.

A short breath of amusement leaves his nose. “He’s only polishing a gem that already exists,” Ushijima counters.

You smile slyly, another witty remark ready to launch from your mouth, when three sharp knocks at the door cause both of you to freeze.

“My friends, the Devil approaches.” Tendou’s faint voice travels through the opulent front door.

Sighing, you slide off the bed and tug your day dress on. Without being asked, Ushijima ties the laces in the back together. “Tell your mother I said hello, won’t you?” you tease, kissing him deeply on the balcony.

“I’d prefer not to think about my mother with your lips pressed to mine, darling,” he replies.

You giggle softly, and with one leg dangling off the balustrade, say, “And careful not to wear yourself out dancing, Toshi. Expect a visit from me later.”

His sonorous laughter rings through the air as you jump and land deftly on the freshly cut grass below, running the whole way back to your humble apartment in the eleventh arrondissement.

Regrets of not sneaking into the ball will burn into your brain after Tendou arrives at your door later that evening with a faraway stare on his face.

Towards the end of the ball, Ushijima Wakatoshi is led away from the dance floor and into the gardens by his scheming younger brother Goshiki.

He doesn’t return. The beloved Crown Prince of France dies on his twenty-first birthday with a dagger in his chest and poison in his veins.

With two lives under your belt, you reach the cruel understanding that in every life you live, August 13th is the day that Ushijima Wakatoshi dies again and again and again.

In a sense, memory is foresight.

NEO SEOUL, 2144

Tomorrow, the Union Revolutionary Group exposes the government for their crimes against your people.

But tonight, your head rests against his chest–– a habit you picked up sometime after Germany, 1943, even though you are presently in Neo Seoul, 2144. To be honest, you’re not sure if it’s even 2144. Neo Seoul’s calendar isn’t like the one you went through your first few lives with and you’re certain one year here is equivalent to two back on the Earth you knew… or something like that. Either way, every August 13th passes under your nose without detection. Every day passes uneasily, because although you never truly know when anyone dies in any life, you really don’t know when he will in this one.

But hearing Ushijima’s heart beat firmly manages to take the edge off yours. Every pulse is a murmured confirmation that everything is still okay.

You jerk back when he stirs from sleep. Disorientated, Ushijima blinks at your dimly lit figure before registering that it’s you. A confused expression crosses his features. What had you just been doing?

“Is everything alright?” His voice is raspy with drowsiness but he sits upright against the headboard anyway.

“Yeah.”

“No, it’s not. Tell me what’s wrong.” Nothing ever slips past him–– at least, not when it comes to you. Still, you bite your lip and contemplate if it’s worth mentioning. Three years of working alongside the renegade Commander (and hundreds more from other lifetimes) have taught you that words of comfort do not belong in Ushijima’s vocabulary. But it’s the night before you, the only known freed Fabricant working with the Union, are going to expose the Unanimity’s enslavement of Fabricants to all inhabitants of Neo Seoul. And…

“I’m scared, Wakatoshi.”

He thinks you’re talking about tomorrow. His eyes dart to the holographic digits floating throughout his room. 12:02 AM. You’re talking about today, then. He’s not wrong–– you are afraid of today. But you’re also afraid every day.

Ushijima pauses, wondering what to say. He’s never felt fear the same way others do. Others might only see a myriad of ways they can fail or die but he simply sees a chance to prove himself. A chance to emerge victorious. “If you let yourself be scared,” he says, “then you lose without fighting. Fear is a wasted emotion. Even at your last breath, you should never be afraid.”

As you mull his words over in your head, a section of your hair falls in front of your face. Ushijima’s fingers twitch. Would it be too much to––

“Then what should I feel instead?” He stills.

The question hangs in the air, thickening until the spacious room feels suffocating. Normal people–– people you knew a couple of lifetimes ago–– would probably say something like “love” or “hope” or even “don’t”. You think Ushijima might, too.

But when Ushijima speaks, he says, “Feel right now.”

A shift in the moonbeam pouring through your surrounding glass walls casts a muted glow over your features, breaking through the darkness of the room. Ushijima’s olive eyes flash and fall to your shining lips.

His Adam’s apple bobs. Anticipation bubbles in your stomach.

You think that you might die tomorrow. He might die any day. What are you waiting for?

Feeling a fiery rush of blood surge through your veins, you close the distance between your bodies until the tips of your noses touch. Gently, your hand comes up to the back of his neck, feeling his pulse speed up under your fingers. He instantly reaches out, grips your waist firmly. Hot, uneven breaths fan across your face.

“What––”

“I know it’s forbidden between Fabricants and pure-bloods,” you breathe out, “but––”

Ushijima nudges his lips against yours. They move stiffly, unsurely, but it’s sincere. It’s his first kiss and it’s your… you’ve lost count by now. It doesn’t really matter, though. Past, future, or present, every one of his touches feels new.

Both of you might die tomorrow. But tonight, you both are so very alive.

And when his heart pounds, unmuffled, bare against yours, you are reminded to live now.

Twenty-one hours later, a laser beam whizzes past your ear.

“Go faster!” you shout over the wind, tightening your arms around Ushijima’s waist. “We have to get to the broadcast station now.”

“I’m trying,” he grits out, pressing his foot harder against the hoverbike’s pedal. You speed up, but only a little. “Fuck. Remember what I taught you about the laser pistols?”

“Always aim a little higher than you want to.” From the mirrors on the side, you see the corners of his lips quirk up. You reach for the gun in his belt.

Not a single police officer remains on your tail when you step foot into the broadcast station.

“We don’t have much time, miracle girl,” Tendou, a fellow Union soldier, says once you arrive. He punches the elevator button. Instantly, the chute opens. “Cameras have picked up on at least five Unanimity squads headed our way from the city.”

The sinking feeling that today out of all days might be August 13th suddenly weighs on your stomach. A shaky breath leaves your mouth.

Ushijima stops you before you can step in. Cupping your face with his large hands, the brunet gazes deeply into your eyes. “I believe in you,” he murmurs. “I believe in you.” His fingers brush against your cheekbones. You let your eyelids close, relishing in this stolen moment between two new lovers.

Ushijima presses his lips against yours, kissing you as if he’s trying to carve a message into your bones. He whispers his conviction one last time before stepping back and allowing Tendou to push you lightly into the elevator. The thought that Ushijima’s words allude to more than just faith nudges your brain as the two men grow smaller in your sight.

Halfway through your revelations, the Unanimity cuts through the metal doors of the station. Behind the glass panels encasing the radio room, you watch the shootout begin. Every bone in your body screams for you to join your comrades, but you remember what your orders are. No matter what happens, do not stop the broadcast. If the truth doesn’t come out now, the Union will have sacrificed everything in vain.

You will your voice to steady when Unanimity soldiers take out the Union soldiers hiding behind Tendou’s barricade.

You will your hands to unclench when Ushijima deftly slides over his squad’s barricade and tosses a plasma grenade towards a cluster of enemy soldiers, then picks off the survivors with his Union rifle.

You will your breath to endure when the brunet is blown back by a grenade tossed by another squadron. Ushijima’s cranium collides with the floor. His body stills; blood red as cherry wine pools around his head like a cruel halo. Swallowing, you push forth. You’re a soldier.

But you can’t help the way your throat dries or hands shake or lungs tighten when you see his head turn ever-so-slightly in your direction.

He smiles in his last breath.

(The Archivist asks if you loved Ushijima before you are taken away. You tell him you always have, do, will.

The Unanimity guillotine doesn’t scare you like you think it should. Knowing what and who waits ahead, it feels more like a kiss to your neck.)

QAASUURI, 3003

As you step out of the metal carriage, the ground beneath you begins to vibrate. This, as you’ve learned, can only mean that you are standing atop another ley line.

Olive eyes stare at you impassively when you look up. A dazzling array of awards and medals is pinned to his chest over a white military uniform. Compared to all the other soldiers around him, you gather that the deep purple cape over his shoulders means he’s someone important. Possibly your betrothed? You briefly recall another lifetime in which he’d been the crown prince of somewhere, and you, by a spectacular stroke of misfortune, had only been a composer then. Fighting back a smug grin, you muse that this time, you are a princess.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi, Captain of the Qaasuuri Royal Guard, at your service,” he says with a low bow. “King Washijou appointed me to ensure your safety during your courtship with the prince, your highness. These are trying times, especially with the war against Ibis.” Your heart falls. So it’s one of those lives.

Mustering the warmest smile you can, you curtsy and say, “Thank you, Ushijima. I hope we can get to know each other better.”

You do.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the Qaasuuri are a race more android than human. But nothing about him feels artificial. He is as real as he was in Berlin. Atlantis. Cairo. Camelot. Hanoi. Olympus. Tallahassee. He feels as human, too.

You get to relearn the way his cheeks flare up when you call him Toshi and not Ushijima for his first time (force of habit)... and every subsequent time (at your pleasure).

You get to relearn his wry humour, how every-so-often his stony demeanour breaks after one of your quick jabs, usually in response to his agonisingly blunt remarks. (“You should have brought a coat, princess,” he notes with disapproval when you shiver in the chilly spring air. You promise him that you look better with hypothermia than in any Qaasuuri coat. An amused breath blows out from his nose. And though he doesn’t say a word more on the subject, his white jacket over your shoulders speaks more than enough.)

You get to relearn how his hands feel on your skin. The first lesson is your mistake: missing a step down the spiralling staircase on your way to dinner. Automatically, his hand grips your arm to pull you back. He uses a little more force than necessary, though, and tugs you into his firm chest. Neither of you can look at each other for the rest of the evening. The second is his mistake: reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you read in the palace library, somehow knowing it’s one of your pet peeves. Both of you freeze when his fingers accidentally brush against your cheek. Ushijima thinks he’s never felt skin softer than yours–– you think it’s been too long since he last touched you.

The third is neither a mistake nor just one of your doings. It happens on a cool autumn evening as the two of you walk through the palace gardens with your hands dangling haphazardly at your sides, knocking against each other again and again as if begging for an opening. Finally, you acquiesce. You slip your hand into Ushijima’s cold palms. And though nothing shows on his stony face, his heart whirrs like an overheating engine for the rest of your walk. He doesn’t let go until the iron palace comes back into view.

“We should stop,” he pants between fervent kisses, “before this gets out of hand.” You nip at his neck. “You’re betrothed to the prince––” you suck on the skin between his collarbones and throat, drawing a low groan from his lips “––and I can never give you a throne.”

You pull back, knees on either side of his waist, and stare down into his eyes. “I don’t want a throne.” Ushijima watches you with rapt attention. Sometimes you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he remembers. Slowly, you repeat his words from lifetimes ago. “I only want your heart.” An unreadable expression crosses his face. “Your devotion.” It’s not recognition. “And your soul.”

It’s conviction.

By now you’ve seen many breathtaking things: entire cities built from ice, the end of the ocean, a Venusian sunrise. None compare to Ushijima Wakatoshi with his pupils blown wide, hair tousled, lips flushed. Red with love.

None compare when he promises, “You have that and more.”

A pause.

“Show me.”

With an effortless flip, Ushijima’s muscled body hovers over yours, olive eyes flashing wildly in your dim chambers.

Amid fast breaths and guttural moans, amid steely olive eyes and parted lips, amid the subatomic space between your bodies, you feel it cloak your skin like armour.

Love.

(The Ibis storm the Qaasuuri castle one month before the wedding. Ushijima fights the invaders valiantly, superhuman modifications undoubtedly being of help. But there’s just too many of them. The last thing he tells you is to run. The world burns when you look over your shoulder, only to see a Ibisian sword drive through his heart.

The Qaasuuri are a race more android than human. But they still bleed the same.)

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2018

The oldest you ever witness him live to is thirty-two years old.

It’s the morning of August 13th and you walk into the kitchen to the sight of Ushijima Wakatoshi lifting your daughter up into the sky, spinning her little body around in circles, the pancakes on the stove slowly bronzing to a mouthwatering shade of gold.

“Mommy!” she giggles when she sees you. Leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed, you watch your husband set your daughter back down on the ground with a soft smile on his face.

“Sleep well?” you ask, ruffling her hair. She nods happily and bounces back to the stove. Her latest obsession has been cooking in the kitchen, though you’re not sure when exactly she moved on from “potion-making” in the backyard.

“Morning,” Ushijima murmurs, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Happy birthday, handsome,” you tease, leaning into his chest. As the words leave your mouth, the sunny morning haze cools into desaturated blue. But it’s been thirty-two years, you reason with a hard swallow. Maybe the cycle has broken. Your eyes dart to your daughter’s little figure on the stepping stool, her small hands gripping the spatula flipping a bronzed pancake over to its pale side. How would she…

You steel yourself, though a small fissure can’t help but open in your heart from the force.

She isn’t your first child and she won’t be your last. Time, you’ve learned, likes to play games, likes to set you on the same storyline again and again just to see if another ending will show itself. There will be more tomorrows and more yesterdays. There always is.

But that doesn’t make todays hurt any less.

Ushijima tilts his head to the side, olive eyes peering into yours. “Is everything okay?” He never misses (or missed) anything–– not when the two of you were heisting in Switzerland or revelling in Alexandria like Dionysians, not when you were crammed in the same codebreaking room during World War I or sailed across the Atlantic to your doom in 1912. Not now.

But you’re tired of carrying each bygone lifetime into the next. Willing yourself to forget the fact that you’ve seen him die again and again on August 13th, you put everything into the lie that slips your teeth: “More than okay.”

You choose to cherish the present.

“Order up!” your daughter exclaims, proudly presenting the plate of pancakes to you and Ushijima. “I even made one shaped like a heart for Dad for his birthday!”

With a grin, you come closer to inspect the heart-shaped pancake. “Excellent work, sous chef!” you compliment, tapping her nose lightly. It’s sharp like her father’s. She, however, inherited your eyes. You turn around to face your husband. “What does Head Chef Ushijima think?”

Smiling softly, he takes the plate from her hands and, without a second look, says, “It’s perfect. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Breakfast passes in a blur of laughter and honey.

(You think you have gone through another August 13th unscathed when night falls and all of your friends exit through the cherry wood doors of one of Tokyo’s finest restaurants. On the car ride home, however, your white SUV swerves to avoid a deer in the road and flips once, twice, three times.

You wake up neither a mother nor a wife.)

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2020

A subtle sigh of relief exits your lungs when Ushijima Wakatoshi enters through the front door at 12:01 AM, red Team Japan suitcase in hand. He’s back from the airport. More importantly, he’s alive.

“Did I make it?” he asks with an upturned corner of his mouth. His olive eyes are half-closed from the exhausting transatlantic flight and his muscles are still a bit sore from how vigorously he played the game against Argentina (Oikawa’s team, for god’s sake)... but he’s here.

And he can’t be any happier.

You know that he’s talking about the time, probably hoping to joke that coming home to you is the best birthday present he can imagine. In that regard, he technically hasn’t made it.

And yet, you leap into his arms and press kisses all over his face as you repeat “yes” again

and again

and again.

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pastelwitchling · 3 years ago

Text

Alex had both palms braced on the console, breathing deeply, and trying not to spiral into the hurricane of questions and horrifying scenarios his brain was making. He had to stay focused.

“What about the security cameras?” Liz said somewhere behind him.

“We checked them, there’s no hint where he could be,” Max said with a little edge. “Whoever did this knew exactly where to stand to keep hidden.”

“It was Mr. Jones,” Alex muttered, thinking. “It had to be.”

“He hasn’t woken up yet,” Liz was starting, but Alex cut her off.

“Not alone, but he did do this,” he said. “This is how my dad works. He uses people, whoever he needs to. He used Michael when he’d taken me, and now he’s used Mr. Jones.”

It wasn’t right, not completely, Alex knew. Something about this whole plan to take Michael and leave Mr. Jones behind felt off, it felt sloppy. His dad was many things, but not sloppy. The finer details though didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Michael was gone, and Alex was on the verge of losing his mind. Maybe he already had. That didn’t matter either.

“I want to talk to him,” Alex demanded. “See what he knows.”

“Alex,” Max started to shake his head, “we don’t know what he’s capable of, even under the pollen, he could be too dangerous to –”

“I’ve seen things that would give you nightmares, Max Evans,” Alex hissed, and the room fell silent. “Right now, the only danger you have to worry about is me. None of you know anything about interrogation, I’m taking over.”

It was not a request, and Max and Isobel didn’t hear it that way. They took Alex back to Max’s house, through his large living room, into the guest bedroom where Mr. Jones was being kept.

Alex had expected him to look like Max’s twin, but there was something unhinged in the darkness of his eyes that Max definitely didn’t have, a twisted curl to his mouth that said he knew Max and Alex were vibrating with fear for Michael, and that it made him happy.

“Well, well,” he said slowly, his voice hoarse despite the upward quirk of his lips. “Aren’t you a pretty one? I was wondering when I’d get to see you here, Jesse Manes Jr.”

“It’s Alex, actually,” Alex said, kneeling in front of Mr. Jones and peering up at him. There were dark circles around his eyes, his cheeks were hollow, his shoulders slumped with an undeniable exhaustion. There was a single needle wound in his neck.

“You took someone that belongs to me,” Alex said quietly, and Mr. Jones tilted his head, his eyes locked on Alex’s. “And I want him back.”

Mr. Jones started to laugh. It was breathy, his voice cracked, and it faded into a fit of coughs, but he was clearly amused, nonetheless.

“That’s sweet,” he murmured. “You’re sweet. I kinda like you.”

“Enough with your stupid games,” Max warned. “Tell us where my brother is, or you’re going to wish you were never born.”

Mr. Jones gasped mockingly. “Goodness me, brother. What’re you gonna do? Lecture me to death?” His laughs grew louder, stronger. “I know you too well. You put on the villain face, but in the end, you ‘aint got the nerve.” He looked down at Alex, and sneered, like his next words were the most insulting he could think of. “You’re heroes. You see the good in everyone, even a lunatic like Jesse Manes. Now that man is dark. View’s too limited though, too narrow-minded. Can’t see the big picture.”

Alex stared. “You won’t tell us where Michael is? That’s your final answer?” Mr. Jones opened his mouth to retort, but Alex coldly cut him off. “Keep in mind that this is your last chance to talk.”

Mr. Jones’ smile widened and he tilted his head. In a singsong voice, he responded, “Michael’s gonna diiii—eeee.”

Alex’s eye twitched. “Max,” he said, his voice unfamiliar to his own ears. “Can I have a minute please?”

Max must’ve known something bad was about to happen because he quietly responded, “Sure, Alex. Just don’t kill him.”

Alex clenched his jaw, his eyes unmoving from Mr. Jones. He wouldn’t kill him. Dead men couldn’t talk.

Max regretted leaving the second the door closed behind him. Isobel, Liz, and Kyle looked up from where they sat on the couch, waiting for an answer.

“Did you find out where Michael is?” Isobel demanded.

Max shook his head. “He won’t talk, no matter what I say.” He punched the wall. “He’s having too much fun.”

“I don’t get it,” Kyle shook his head. “Jesse Manes left him to get caught. How could he still be defending him?”

Max didn’t say his biggest fear; Mr. Jones didn’t care if Jesse had left him so long as he was killing Michael and the rest of them were suffering for it. He would have fun watching no matter what.

Kyle was staring at the guest bedroom door from his seat on the armrest, his arms crossed. “Why’s Alex still in there? Shouldn’t you help him? You’re the one with the powers.”

“Alex wanted a minute alone with him,” Max said, avoiding their eyes.

Liz, of course, noticed right away. “Max,” she said, “what aren’t you telling us?”

Max shook his head. Alex was just worried, they were all worried. He was fine. He opened his mouth to say that when Mr. Jones suddenly screamed.

The others shot to their feet, Isobel’s hands over her mouth, her eyes wide.

“Oh my god,” Liz breathed.

Oh my god was right, Max thought. That wasn’t any normal scream. It was one of pure and utter agony, like the scream of a man having his limbs slowly torn off.

Max took two long steps to the room when the screams suddenly cut off, and the door opened. Alex was wiping his bloody hand off on his jacket. Max stared. He was not the only one. That blood, they knew, was not Alex’s, but it covered his entire forearm like paint.

“Alex,” Kyle breathed, “what the hell –”

“Caulfield,” Alex said at once, already heading to the door. “He’s at Caulfield.”

It was too late to hide the look in his eyes. Max had seen something in Alex shatter, something dark, something frightening.

“Drive faster,” Alex said through clenched teeth.

“This is as fast as it’ll go, Alex,” Max said. Alex could feel him glancing. “If anything happened to Michael –”

“Don’t.”

“—We’d know,” he finished. “Okay? Isobel and I would’ve felt it. I would’ve felt it.”

Alex felt the smallest bit of reassurance. It was nothing compared to the overwhelming fear and discomfort at not having Michael in his arms, safe and sound. His hand, his fingers, his wrist and forearm, they were still stained with Mr. Jones’ blood. He could still feel the meat of the alien’s flesh as he dug his fingers into the needle wound at his neck, opening up the cut to fit his fingers, until Mr. Jones was screaming. His eyes wide, as though he’d never expected Alex to raise so much as a finger at him. He’d been wrong. He’d taken Michael.

He had no idea what he’d unleashed.

As if hearing his thoughts, Max quietly asked, “What’d you do to him?”

“Doesn’t matter,” was all Alex said, not wanting to linger on the familiar chill of his own voice.

When they reached Caulfield, they were careful to come in the same way they’d come when it had just been Michael, Alex, and Kyle. Alex held his gun up, as did Max. Kyle stayed on Alex’s other side, a taser in his and Liz’s hands while Isobel held her hands up in case of a sudden attack.

Getting in was difficult. It felt like every few feet, a guard came out to stop them. Alex knew these people were trying to keep Michael away from them, and wanted nothing more than to tear into them with his bare hands, but they needed to hurry. He shot each one in the shoulder or leg. There was more than one spot in the human body that rendered the rest of it paralyzed. He didn’t care if they screamed, if they bled out. As far as he was concerned, they’d signed their death warrants when they helped Jesse hide Michael from him. He was being merciful not doing worse.

They moved deeper and deeper into the facility, and by the end of it, it was him and Max with the most stains on their clothes and the more bruises. Better that way. They made it into a long, dark hallway that took them to a sealed room.

Through a small window, Alex could see Michael in a steel chair, his head dropping between his shoulders as an IV strip pumped something that looked a lot like the pollen’s serum and something else into his veins.

There was a keypad next to the door. Without missing a beat, Alex held his gun for Max to take and pulled out his phone.

“Michael!” Isobel called through the window, panicked, but it was no use. He wouldn’t be answering anybody.

“Can’t we break the door down?” Liz demanded.

“It’s reinforced steel and set up to self-destruct,” Alex muttered, typing rapidly on his phone. He knew that hacking software he’d created would come in handy sometime. “Look around you. This place is already falling apart from the last time someone tried to break in.”

“But you can get him out, right?” Max asked Alex.

“Yeah,” Kyle said without missing a beat. Alex could feel him staring. “Yeah, he can do it.”

A second. Two. Three. Four seconds of Alex hearing nothing but the blood rushing in his own ears and the held breaths of everyone around him. The keypad beeped, the steel hinges clicked, and the door swung open. Alex pushed it enough to run in and fall to his knees in front of Michael, yanking the strips out of his arm while Max and Isobel set to work on the cuffs that kept him in the chair.

“Hey,” Alex whispered, lifting his chin gently. “Hey, baby, can you hear me? Michael, look at me, can you hear me?”

Michael’s eyes were half-lidded and hazed. Michael made a soft “Hmm?,” and his gaze focused for a split second. He smiled sleepily.

“You,” he breathed, “you look . . . just like my Alex.”

A small cry escaped Isobel’s lips before she quickly stifled it. Liz put a hand on her back as Kyle undid the rope around Michael’s waist. Jesse was nowhere in sight. He must’ve run the second he heard them arrive, knowing the guards would do nothing but stall for time. None of it mattered.

Alex smiled at Michael. “I am,” he huffed a chuckle, his eyes burning. “I am your Alex. Okay, come on, give me your arm, lean on me.”

“Alex,” Kyle tried, “if your leg hurts, I can –”

Alex cut him a glare so sharp Kyle turned silent at once. He’d apologize for it later. Right now, he needed to feel Michael against him, and he trusted no one but himself to help get him out of this hellhole.

Michael was able to stand, though he leaned most of his weight on Alex, his other arm around Max. His face was in Alex’s hair and he inhaled.

He murmured, “You smell like him, too.”

“Come on, baby,” Alex encouraged, unwilling to ever let go again. “Come on, you can do it, just hold onto me.”

Alex’s fingers and toes had turned numb from the lack of movement in the last two hours, but he didn’t dare stand and walk around. He didn’t dare take his eyes off Michael until he woke up. He’d collapsed almost the second they’d gotten him into Max’s car, but Alex had kept a tight hold on him.

Max’s healing was useless against the pollen, and technically, Michael didn’t need a hospital, but Alex wanted Kyle to have access to whatever he needed to help him.

So they were pumping acetone into his veins instead of saline, they were monitoring his heart rate, even as, by the minute, it was getting better and better. And still, Alex kept close, kept watch, made sure no one but Kyle came in, no one but Kyle changed his IV bag and cleaned his wounds.

At one point, Kyle came in and put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Dude, you need to rest.”

“I’ll rest when he’s awake.”

“Alex –”

“Kyle,” Alex said, his voice clipped. “I’m not leaving him.”

A moment of silence, then, “Are you okay?”

“The man I love was kidnapped by my father, what do you think?”

“Alex.”

Alex glanced at Kyle, and the lump that had been in his throat since he first discovered Michael had gone missing lodged itself firmly in place now, forbidding him to breath steadily. His eyes burned and his lower lip trembled as a horrifying realization that he’d been keeping at bay surfaced now.

He whispered, “I’m just like him.”

“No,” Kyle said immediately. His voice was calm. “You’re not.”

“What I did to Mr. Jones,” he shook his head. “I would’ve killed every single guard in that prison without batting an eye.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.”

“Kyle –”

“You wouldn’t have.” Kyle sat down next to him. “Alex, you’re not your dad. All he ever thought about was himself. You did what you had to do to get Guerin back. Mr. Jones never would’ve told us where he was if you hadn’t – if you hadn’t done what you’d done.”

“I’d do anything for him,” Alex whispered, watching the way Michael’s chest rose and fell with his breaths. “Isn’t that a bad thing?”

“Maybe for some people,” Kyle shrugged a shoulder. “Not for you.”

Alex clenched his jaw. “I’m scared of what I’d become for him.”

“Who you always are is Alex,” Kyle said, and stood, ruffling Alex’s hair. “No matter what you become, that doesn’t change.”

With that, Kyle left them to be alone, and still Alex would not look away from Michael. He sniffled and reached out, taking Michael’s hand in both of his and holding tight.

The lump, the weight on his chest, the pain in his leg, he knew, wouldn’t go away until he got to see Michael was awake and safe. With the knowledge that he would be here all night, Alex squeezed Michael’s hand, and waited.

Michael opened his eyes to a white ceiling, white walls, and white sheets. A steady beep beep beep went on somewhere behind him, there was a warm weight on his left hand and hip, and he realized that he was in a hospital. Before he could start to question why though, he caught the source of the weight.

Alex had his head rested against Michael’s hip, sleeping with pinched brows as his hands clung to Michael’s. Michael stared. It took him a minute to process what he was seeing.

He heard himself breathe slowly, carefully. If this was a dream, he hoped he never woke up. Alex looked so real, his dark, straight hair splayed against the white sheets, his long lashes curled against rosy cheeks, his warm breathing against Michael’s hand as his lips brushed Michael’s fingers.

Michael reached up his thumb to touch Alex’s cheek, to see if it was as soft and warm as it looked (it was), and Alex started awake. His eyes followed Michael’s thumb to his face, and he sat up, a grin splitting his lips.

“Guerin!” he breathed. He stood and cupped Michael’s face. Michael did not miss the way he winced, but his eyes were filling with tears that begged to fall and his smile was so beautiful and happy that Michael couldn’t find it in him to do anything but cling to Alex’s hands just as tightly.

“You’re okay,” he sighed with relief, his fingers gentle on Michael’s jaw. “You’re okay. I’m going to – I should go get Kyle, I –”

“No,” Michael croaked, his throat dry, as he tried to sit up. “No, stay here.”

“Be careful,” Alex said, setting up his pillows and helping him lie down against them. “There you go, careful.” He stood back, looking Michael over for any open wounds. “Do you – uh – what do you need?”

Michael watched him. His fingers were trembling, his eyes twitching, his jaw clenched so tightly Michael feared he was drawing blood. He wordlessly held his arms out, and Alex eyed him a moment before his expression revealed the grief behind it, a sob escaped his lips, and he fell into Michael’s embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” he cried, and Michael’s heart broke. His hold on Alex tightened.

“Don’t,” he growled. “That wasn’t your fault. Got it? It wasn’t your fault, Alex. You’re my hero.”

“I’m not,” Alex whimpered. “You don’t know what I did.”

“I don’t care,” Michael breathed, his hold unbearably, painfully tight now. “I don’t care. You’re always my hero, Private.”

Alex burrowed deeper into his side. He kissed Michael’s shoulder, his neck, his jaw, his cheek, and held his face as he kissed his lips. Michael didn’t care if they weren’t officially together or hadn’t really spoken about their feelings since Alex and Forrest had ended things. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was Alex.

He held Alex back just as desperately, and kissed him again and again and again, until all Alex could do was laugh through his tears.

“I’m sorry,” Alex swallowed, straightening. “I should – I should be more careful. You’re still hurt. Uh –” he wiped his face roughly “—do you want me to get you some water? Juice? Anything you want.”

“You,” was all Michael said, taking hold of Alex’s hand and pulling him onto the bed.

Alex looked startled, but went where Michael guided him until they were both lying on their sides, pressed close together.

“Guerin,” Alex whispered as Michael wrapped an arm around his waist, his forehead against Alex’s. “We can’t do this now, you – you need –”

“You,” Michael whispered back. With his other hand, he traced Alex’s jaw, his lips, down his neck. He couldn’t remember anything after his bunker had been broken into, but he’d been sure of one thing; Alex would bring hell to the doorstep of anyone who dared hurt him.

“All I’ve ever wanted and needed is you,” Michael said into the small space between their lips. Alex’s eyes fluttered, his chin raising so that his lips met Michael’s, as if he couldn’t help himself. Michael was so in love, it hurt him.

Before he closed the distance between them, he whispered, “My Alex.”

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex fic #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #tw graphic violence #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

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verai-marcel · 3 years ago

Text

Forever and Always (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur x F!Reader)

Summary: You reminisce about your life and have a sweet moment with your family.

Author’s Notes: I was listening to a podcast about wedding dress design and got inspired.

Tags: pure fluff, Arthur x F!Reader

Word Count: 1644

AO3 Link is right here, darlin’.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Twenty-five years.

A quarter of a century.

Funny how time flies, and all of a sudden you're nearly fifty years old. Looking back, you can see the crazy turn of events in your life like some kind of movie, detached and yet feeling every single emotion as if you were there in that moment.

***

Fresh out of college, you remembered the night you found your partner sleeping with your roommate. The white hot rage and cold grip of disbelief sent you fleeing into the rain, into the streets, into a bar in the middle of the night. As you meandered between sadness and anger, a bartender had given you a cold glass of orange juice, soda water, and a bit of ice, with a shot of grenadine.

"Here ya go, sweetheart. On the house."

You had looked up and drowned in eyes the color of volcanic springs, finding the same warmth and comfort in his kind gaze. Taking a cautious sip of the drink, you found it to be the perfect drink, not too sweet, and took your time savoring it.

"What brings you here tonight?" he had asked.

After a moment of silence, he held up his hand. "You don't need to tell me if you don't want to."

He leaned in close. "But I'm happy to listen, whenever yer ready."

His sweet smile undid you, and you poured out your heart. He seemed to nod along with your story, as a stranger would, but there was a steadily growing fire in his eyes. After a while, after a few interruptions from other customers ordering drinks, you had finished venting, nursing the last of your drink and debating what your next move should be.

"Alright folks, last call!" the bartender shouted. A few people came up and got one last drink before he started to clean up.

"Well, thank you for listening to me," you said, dropping a tip on the bar. "I really appreciate it."

"I didn't catch yer name."

You told him.

He smiled. "I'm Arthur. Could… could ya wait a bit? I'll walk you home."

You slumped. "I don't want to go home."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at you. "Where were you goin' to go, then?"

You shrugged. "Walk around until sunrise, I guess. Not feeling sleepy."

He tilted his head as he observed you. After a few moments, he shook his head. "If you don't mind, you can come sleep on my couch. You need some rest, darlin'."

"Um…" As sweet as he was, you had just met him.

Arthur pulled out a pen and scribbled something on the back of a bar coaster before giving it to you. "Here's my address. You send it to someone you trust, so they know where you are."

Touched by his offer and his understanding of your hesitation, you agreed. You texted his address to your best friend who lived a city away and told her that you were staying with a new friend and that you'd call her in the morning and tell her everything.

Then you waited until Arthur was done with his shift and followed him home.

***

That was years ago. He had helped you deal with the whole situation with your ex-significant other and ex-roommate. He stood outside as backup while you confronted the two of them and told them that you were leaving. Then you found yourself temporarily moving in with Arthur, bunking on his sleeper sofa for a couple of weeks while you searched for another place to live.

And then you slept in his bed. And your temporary move became permanent.

Life continued. You slept together, in the adult sense of the term. You got pregnant. You dated. You gave birth. He proposed. You got married. He finished college. You became the breadwinner while he worked part time and took care of your daughter.

Nothing went in the 'normal' order of things, but what was normal, anyway?

Looking at the photos of your wonderful daughter when she was a small child, you smiled as you heard the doorbell ring.

"Hey Mom!"

"Hi Avery!" You greeted her with a warm hug. She was twenty-three now, working hard during her first year out of college. You got to see her a couple times a month, and each visit made you smile, no matter how grumpy she might be.

Today the two of you were just hanging out, having tea and going through some of the old boxes in the attic, when she pulled out an old scrapbook.

"Wow, didn't know you did scrapbooking."

"I didn't, I only made one for my wedding."

Together the two of you looked through your silly notes and hand picked photos, telling her the story behind each one, and who each person was.

"Do you still have your wedding dress?" she asked after seeing the photos of you and Arthur, dressed up in a tuxedo that barely fit his broad shoulders.

"I do, somewhere."

After some time searching, you found it, brushed it off, and held it up to your body. "I don't think it'll fit, I've gotten a bit wider since I wore it."

"C'mon Mom, just try it!"

Smiling, the two of you went to your bedroom and you managed to shove yourself mostly into the dress. Except for the shoulders.

"I've gotten more buff," you joked as you pulled the dress off yourself. "You try it."

Avery took the dress, stared at it for a moment, and with your help, pulled it on. It looked like it fit, until she moved her arms.

The sound of a seam ripping made you both pause.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry–"

You patted her shoulder. "It's fine, sweetie. It's just a dress, it can be fixed. And you look beautiful in it."

Your daughter grinned, and you could see Arthur's eyes and smile on her face.

After she spun around a few times, she took it off and handed it back to you. Out of curiosity, you checked which seams had torn.

"It might fit you now," Avery joked.

"Sure, why not?"

You pulled it back on, and sure enough, the seams that had torn were the very ones stopping you from fitting your thicker arms through. You turned around and looked in the mirror. Twirling around a bit, you suddenly felt young again, remembering the first time you had tried this dress. Your two closest friends had been by your side, encouraging you to buy the dress because you were so pleased with it.

And you remembered the last time you had worn this dress, walking down the aisle with Arthur, hand in hand, the two of you grinning at each other as if there was nothing else in the world, just the two of you, happily in love.

"Let's take some photos outside!" Avery suggested, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm.

Smiling at your daughter, you walked through your house and out to the small backyard that Arthur lovingly cared for, with a small waterfall and herb garden.

He was there, kneeling in the dirt, planting some new basil plants. He turned around at the sound of the back door opening.

"What're you two doin'–"

Arthur's words stopped abruptly as his jaw dropped. He hadn't seen you in that dress since the wedding, and for him, time stopped and all he saw was his beautiful lady, dressed in white, smiling like a goddess.

He quickly washed his hands with the garden hose, wiped them on his jeans, and came towards you.

"Beautiful, just like an angel," he said in awe.

You went to him, holding your hands out to him. He took them and brought them close to his heart before lifting your hands to his lips and kissing your fingers oh so so tenderly.

"Amazin', I feel the same as I did on our weddin' day, seein' you like this."

"I'm a little wider now…"

"That don't matter none," he said, leaning closer to you. His forehead touched yours and he looked into your eyes. "Yer always lovely."

"Awww!"

Avery's exclamation brought the two of you back to reality. She had her phone out and had been taking photos of the two of you, a giant grin on her face.

"I'll send these to you later, after I touch them up a bit," she said. "I, uh, got an errand to run. Bye Dad, bye Mom, I'll catch you later!"

She left, giving you a conspiratorial wink. You looked back at Arthur to find that his eyes hadn't left you for a single moment.

He was in his late fifties now, streaks of grey in his hair, giving him a sophisticated appearance. He smiled much more these days, finding happiness in tending his small garden and being outside in the sunlight. He was still strong, still broad shouldered, but he had filled out a little from your delicious home cooked meals.

And he still looked at you like you were his entire world.

"Should we go inside?" you asked with a mischievous smirk.

"I got mud on me," he said, although he didn't resist when you pulled him into the house.

"I'll get you all clean," you said. "Then we can get dirty."

"Darlin'," he said as if he was chastising you, yet he was chuckling softly as he let you lead the way.

***

That night, looking at the photos Avery had emailed, you realized how the two of you appeared, so deep in love. You both looked younger in her photos, and you wondered if it was because of the photo editing.

Showing Arthur, he just smiled and kissed your cheek, his whiskers scraping your skin lightly as he nuzzled you.

"See? Told you my feelin's fer you would never change." He pulled you into his arms and held you close.

"You'll always be my shinin' star."

--------------------

End Notes: I started with a small idea and it kinda got longer. Oops.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #RDR2 fanfic #arthur x fem!reader #Writing #Fanfic #Fluff

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jiminrings · 3 years ago

Note

BALLOON ANIMAL ARTIST JK I JUST FEEL LIKE HE WOULD BE REALLY GOOD AT IT AND MAKE YOU A FLOWER THEN ASK YOU ON A DATE

baby i love u and your big sexy brain <3 welcome to waikiki meets hospital playlist dynamic ft. balloon artist!jk

“who’s a good baby? is it you? iS IT YOU????”

you’d be the first one to admit that you had an exhausting horrible night

being a nurse sUCKS the life out of you and as much as it’s fulfilling, you almost always feel the urge to admit yourself to the ER for being extremely fatigued

it’s all worth it!! it should be

after all, paying for a mansion in an exclusive village and sharing it with your friends doeS warrant some elbow grease

seokjin works in wall street and sometimes he comes home crying but it’s okay because you do have an expensive fridge that everyone worked overtime for <3

hoseok’s a veterinary assistant and is your trusty friend who always sends in pictures of the animals that come in to cheer you up while at work

namjoon’s a painter by passion and accountant by profession!! he does only come out with a few pieces at a time but mAN does it rake in the money

jimin’s a flight attendant and does everyone the pleasure of securing either free or discounted tickets, and bringing home unused airline towels to dry off the dishes!!

lastly, taehyung’s someone you can call a former trustfund baby or somewhat :O the last big chunk of money he spent from his fund was the downpayment and security deposit for this mansion!!!

it’s a long story and he’s currently all over the place but he’s finding regular jobs!! his latest gig was working at a high-end ice cream place but he immediately quit once he learned that he needed to put his back into it and not just scoop up ice cream like he did in his dreams :((

most importantly, taehyung has a baby :-)

he’s a dad!! a single one at that

it’s truly a LONG story but the bottomline is that he has nabi, his cutest little dumpling!! and he has all of you, his friends who didn’t hesitate to step up as nabi’s parents in a way too even if he didn’t ask any of you

you all love the chunky monkey so much that you’ve all taken the liberty to call him your baby at times and tae doesn’t even mind!! nabi’s so lucky (he hopes) to have him as a dad and his friends as his cool uncles and aunt

nevertheless, you indeed had a bad night working the night shift and came home to nabi’s birthday party just in time!! :D

he turned two years old at midnight and even if you weren’t physically present at the mansion like the guys were (they requested their leaves two months earlier) because of being understaffed, you were able to see him and tae blow out multiple cakes that each one bought him

seeing him giggle at your arms just by doing the bare minimum makes you full already <3

all your exhaustion is melted away because it’s your favorite toddler’s birthday party!! the party that you all insisted on shelling out for that made tae almost cry bc of how much you all love his son

“jimin i am not sewing your forehead up when you end up falling in the wrong angle,” you roll your eyes at him who’s currently doing backflips in the bouncy house that managed to fit in the mansion

“hoseok can!!” he yells back and backflips twice in a row, much to the actual children’s amusement and your worry

“i will NOT stitch you up! the thread i have is for the pregnant dogs only!!!”

everyone’s entertaining guests left and right, including taehyung who’s the dad of the little man of the hour :D

he keeps pointing at nabi who’s currently in your arms every ten seconds and it’s now your job to make him giggle every single time to wave at the people

“what do you want, monkey? do you want some ice cream? i won’t tell your dad,” you eagerly ask the wide-eyed baby in your arms, pointing at the ice cream cart that namjoon probably ordered

“no thank you!” nabi cutely aND politely declines, his head shaking no and his speech and pronunciation getting clearer day by day

most of the time though he says it like tHANK YEWWWW and you would immediately grin every time because it’s the cutest thing ever

“hmm, look at that!! face painting!! do you want some butterflies?”

you point at yet another station that you guess seokjin arranged, knowing that at some point into this party, he’d all drag you in here to get matching marks or something lol

nabi once again declines, his eyes searching around that makes you do the same on what you could do to entertain him

he has the same habit down like taehyung and loudly gASPS, pointing his finger and almost shrieking in excitement

“bawoo — balloon!!! balloon!!!”

it is now your life purpose to walk as fast as you could to this balloon station with nabi bouncing up and down your arm in excitement

jungkook’s having the time of his life here :D

normally he’s mostly called in the holiday season and occasionally at big birthday parties (the one where like two sides of the family share every baby’s first birthday party lmao) throughout the year!!

but he’s never had a client who requested him for a singular birthday party!! let alone at a hOUSE

ok maybe that was an understatement

he means a mansion

if he’s being quite honest, the mr. park jimin he spoke to on the phone sounded too kind that he just mistakened him for a party planner or something

he immediately said yes because he had no on-site bookings for that day, or even the week perhaps, and expected to stroll into a carnival in the middle of an executive village

aha :D jungkook is wrong :D

jimin met him by the front door wherein a lot of people are already crossing paths such as catering and not to mention the bouncy house you cAN’T miss, and just briefly touched in on the situation

“oh no, i’m not the dad, man — but thanks!! i’m his uncle. nabi’s dad is my friend, taehyung. and me and my friends, including taehyung, all live here. we’re all like family, basically.”

jungkook saw the other stations invited and he expected that his would have less children y’know?? bouncy house, ice cream station, facepainting, hotdog cart aND magic show???? yeah <3

but god is he wrong

the children are in a single-file line for hIM and his balloon artistry!!! the requests range from pretzels to pirate hats to chandeliers with the bulbs as smiley faces!!!

he’s managed to do all of them so far and he’s now made a decent dent on the line of children waiting for him

jungkook is a happy and content balloon artist :D

“EXCUSE ME! BIRTHDAY BOY COMING THROUGH!!”

oh my god what was that

you’re walking at full-speed and holler out, making sure to emphasize birthday boy because nuh-uh you and nabi will nOT line up for his own party <3 thank you very much

the children coo and the older kids coax the other ones to make way for the both of you to the front of the line, immediately plopping to a mini chair in front of the guy

“hiiii!!”

nabi drawls politely and waves his hand, making you do the same

“what a cute little thing,” the guy in front of you coos and it’s his voice that perhaps makes you melt a little, just seeing the top of his hair for now because he’s crouching down to be eye-level with nabi, “what can i do for you, little buddy?”

he toothily grins and straightens his posture, raising his eyes to look at who’s holding nabi in place and-

???????????????????

jungkook literally stops breathing for a second

“h-hi!! what can i do for you today?” jungkook squeaks, his eyes even more wide and curious to look at the prettiest girl he’s ever seen in his life

you’re sure that you were gonna stammer once you open your mouth so you don’t at all, instead focusing on nabi who’s on your lap

“what do you want, monkey?”

“nabi please! i want nABI!!! nabi nabi nabiiiiiiiiii-“

“yes. he wants nabi, please.”

jungkook nods fervently, his hands about to pluck ballons from his kit before he realizes to ask

“does he want his face? or like, his name? what colors do you want, bud?”

he’s not the least bit bothered at the choices in his head because you’re widening your eyes on what could this guy dO with just balloons, knowing to yourself that even pumping one is difficult work already

“oh! he wants nabi,” you clarify and jungkook tilts his head, mouth slightly agape at to what you’re trying to get at, “butterfly, i mean. nabi knows that his name means butterfly and he likes them a lot! don’t you, monkey?”

nabi nods so hard that it almost gives him a headache and jungkook wants to facepalm himself to the grave

“r-right! why didn’t i think of that?? because nabi means.... nabi....... right!! sorry, oh my god. o-oh! i meant oh my gosh. i uhm-...”

he’s a mess and he knows it, letting his hands take over and grab the same theme colors of blue and lavender from his bag to start on his work

kook tries not to lift his head up ever so often because you’d find him out instantly that he’s looking at you

so what he does instead is peer and coo at nabi every few seconds and tHEN look up at you because you also giggle whenever he giggles

he’s probably feeling pressure with the way your eyes are set on him too and what he’s doing that he pOPS a balloon right with his hands

“sorry, sorry! did i spook you?”

jungkook’s worried because he heard a collective gasp from the kids around him but his main priority is the birthday boy AND you

nabi’s shoulders rose and that’s about it

he shakes his head to himself, looking at you who’s carrying a curious gaze on your face that looks amused

“sorry. i-it’s just you’re so pretty and-“

he’s embarrassed himself in front of a pretty girl and her son and-

wait a second

the color just dRAINS from his face and he’s about to quit at the second

“oh my god i am so sorry. y-you must be nabi’s mother. you’re mr. taehyung’s-“

“friend!! i’m y/n, i’m just taehyung’s friend,” you interject quickly because you cannot believe that pretty boy called you pretty, and at the next breath thought you were taehyung’s wife, “and nabi’s my nephew. we’re all just friends who live together!! i have no boyfriend, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

...

....

yeah maybe you embarrassed yourself this time

you may have said too much information to the balloon artist but jungkook’s just staring at you fondly

and nabi’s switching his gaze between the two of you and claps his hands to snap the two of you out of it lmao

kook chuckles to himself and he cannot stop smiling, even when he’s tying the last balloon to nabi’s butterfly

“there you go, cutie. happy birthday!!” he hands nabi the hUGE butterfly he just made but the sheer difference of how big it is makes the toddler even more happy, hugging it to his chest

jungkook watches you pepper kisses on nabi’s cheeks and that launches him into quickly pulling out balloons while your eyes are deviated from him, hands twisting and turning like his wHOLE LIFE depended on it

“my name’s jungkook, by the way,” he calls you when you’re just about to stand up, smiling giddily at you, “thought you should know.”

cute :-)

before you could thank him, he extends his arm and your mind recognizes the familiar shape which makes you smile instantly

jungkook made you a flower balloon <3

“i think i’ll remember you, jungkook.”

you laugh as the only thing you can smell from it is latex, the huge flower staring at you right in the face

jungkook sheepishly blushes, pursing his lips in happiness

“i’m free whenever you’re free — f-for a date, y’know? just so you could remember me more.”

bonus: dilf taehyung has his own drabble!!

bonus bonus: bestie anon brought my attention to these tiktoks below and gAWD i’m so happy <3

first, second

#drabble nights #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook drabbles #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook scenario

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