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leiawritesstories · 3 years ago

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Speak To My Heart

Rowaelin Month, Day 15: A bad day

Word count: 3422

Warnings: language, bit of depression, fighting. In short, there is angst in this fic. Hope the ending makes up for the rest.

Linguistics and foreign languages are two of my personal passions, so please bear with the bits of language talk that I couldn’t resist including. Brief word of clarification: a lot of expressions we use in English either translate into something extremely rude or don’t make sense in other languages. Translation companies have been trying for quite some time to make sure they don’t accidentally send a client a translated instruction manual that reads “fuck your mother” instead of “for questions, contact your local energy department.” All right I’ll get off my soapbox. :)

The phrases in foreign languages, marked with *, are translated into English at the end. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rowan’s day had been shit. The second he walked through the door, he’d been bombarded with an endless slew of crash reports, malfunctioning equipment, faulty passwords, and best of all, having to rewrite half the security firewalls because one of the rash young idiots in his department couldn’t be bothered to check his work for errors before sending it to management. And management thought it was the department boss’s job to fix all of his employees’ fuckups.

He hated IT.

Even more so since being promoted to department chair.

All he wanted to do was the fun stuff--program design and development, fixing the flaws in his own designs, and of course making those who tried to break into his company’s systems regret their pitiful existence. But Cadre Tech’s bitch of a CEO refused to let the best software engineer on her staff actually do his job.

Most days, he could cope with the pile of useless shit she directed to his desk. Most days. Today was not one of those days. Probably because on top of all the meaningless tasks he’d had to field, he was also forced to sit through one of Maeve’s bullshit “department head strategy sessions,” where every department chair had to pretend they gave a single shit about any word coming from their CEO’s garishly red, pinched mouth.

As if she knew anything her staff actually did.

Thanks to the compulsory meeting, Rowan was stuck in his office at nearly ten o’clock, painstakingly combing through the final draft of the update to CT’s translation program. This program had shot the company to fame and fortune, or at least insane stock value. “A Google Translate that actually translates,” their marketing department called it, and by the gods, that stupid slogan worked. And made sense. Rowan knew the program was just as good as it claimed to be.

He’d put in the hours, alongside a team of linguists, software engineers, designers, and people fluent in at least one other language. Frequent were the sessions where the project whiteboard turned into a jumble of words in twenty or more languages, Spanish alongside Arabic next to a column of simplified Japanese characters spilling over into a row of Cyrillic lettering. Rowan himself spoke German and some Spanish, but even he was lost amid the cacophony of eighteen different people switching from language to language, trying to figure out how idiomatic expressions translated from one language to another and what words should never, ever be placed together.

It took the team well over a year of bickering, or as they called it, friendly linguistic disagreements, to make it from loosely mapped concept to functioning program. By the time it hit the market three years ago, the software had been so well promoted that companies all over the world snapped up their chance to finally communicate properly with the client they’d offended years ago with a bad translation.

At launch, of course, Maeve stood in front of a sea of shouting reporters brandishing microphones, smiling her serpentine smile, and proceeded to thank the creative team for all their “contributions” before taking all the credit herself.

Said creative team went to the bar that had become their usual gathering spot that night to get drunk and shit-talk their horrible boss, not necessarily in that order.

His favorite memory of that night was hearing the chief linguist, an outside contract with multiple advanced degrees who spoke eight separate languages besides English fluently, refer to Maeve as “quella puttana rugosa che non riusciva a convincere un cazzo a venire a dieci metri da lei se si vestiva da figa.*” The Italian speakers on the team were crying with laughter, and so was everyone else, once she translated it.

And then she downed another shot of vodka and hissed something that sounded like “sukya bliyad, no puedo mich betrinken con esta ordures.**” When everyone blinked in confusion, she sighed and relayed the sentiment in English.

Nobody had laughed as hard as Rowan. Aelin Galathynius just had that effect on him.

She brightened his darkest days.

But she couldn’t ease the strain of today.

And it was all his fault.

Aelin glanced up at the clock on her wall and cursed in three different languages when she saw that it was nearly eleven. Without meaning to, she’d spent all afternoon and evening writing lesson notes on idiomatic expressions. She really couldn’t help herself once she got into the topic; it was her pet project.

And the subject of one of her dissertations. Yes, she had multiple.

She’d worked her ass off for years to get through college, then through graduate and doctoral work while teaching at universities to offset costs, then earned a full-time teaching position at one of the top-ranked universities in the world. She got to teach linguistics, her lifetime love, and give guest lectures at other universities and at conferences, teaching people all over the world about the complexities and interrelatedness of language. Hell, she spoke ten; she’d be qualified to speak on linguistic relationships by virtue of that alone.

Gods, she was the chief linguist behind the most successful translation software ever produced. Even if the bitch who owned the rights to said software had literally threatened to sue over ownership rights if any of the people who’d poured their figurative blood and sweat and literal tears into building the program tried to claim a small piece of the credit each of them so richly deserved.

That software and her role in its creation--even though Maeve Ond had claimed the public credit, the creative team spoke at interviews and made news features for their work in Cadre Tech’s massive success--had solidified her credentials as a professor of linguistics, had boosted her into her lecturer spot.

Last year, her university granted her tenure.

She should have been overjoyed, and she was, but not as much as earning tenure deserved.

Because there was nobody to share her joy.

Three years ago, in the wake of CT’s overnight jump to worldwide fame, Aelin fled a love she did not and never would deserve.

She told herself she would never look back. But she did. Almost every day, she looked back at the life she’d shared with Rowan and tried to convince herself that she did the right thing.

Try as she might, she could never silence the whisper that echoed always in her mind.

“You broke both of your hearts”

Someday, she told herself, someday she would be back in Doranelle. Someday, she would have a chance to apologize. Someday, maybe she could fix the Rowan-shaped chasm that gaped wide in her heart.

Yet here she was, sitting in a very nicely appointed hotel room in the university district of Doranelle, typing furiously away as if burying herself in notes and prep for tomorrow’s lecture could make the urge to contact Rowan disappear.

Three years earlier. Doranelle.

“Knock, knock.”

Rowan’s head jerked up from where it had most definitely not been slumped on his desk. “Wha--Oh. Hi, Aelin.”

“You’re falling asleep, buzzard, let’s go home.” He heard laughter in her soft voice.

“As if you won’t just get home and start cross-checking every single one of the phrases on your ‘potential problem’ list.”

She chuckled, walking over to him. “Fine. We’re both perfectionist work whores. Doesn’t mean we don’t need sleep.”

“I know you too well to believe you’re actually going to sleep.”

“All right, you win. Come home now, I’ll make some food, and you can put me to bed.” She winked saucily at him, leaving very little doubt what putting her to bed would entail, and he was up out of his chair in seconds.

“Hand over your computer, Fireheart,” he grinned as they walked into the small house they shared on the outskirts of the city.

“What?”

“Your computer, love. I’m leaving both of our work bags on the shelf by the front door so we can actually catch some rest tonight.” He pressed a finger to her mouth to silence her protests. “Uh-uh, Ae, we have interviews tomorrow and I won’t let the genius behind this program’s flawless word-to-word be anything but well-rested.”

She sighed, but he saw the love in her eyes. “Here, then, my dear brilliant software engineer. Leave your notebook, too, because I know if it’s anywhere near you, you’ll be up at three in the morning scribbling blocks of gibberish and picking apart your faultless code until you go insane.”

Both of their work satisfactorily put aside, Aelin made good on her promise to cook Rowan dinner.

And then he made very good on his promise to put her to bed.

The next morning, they were both awake with the sunrise, content to lay curled in each other’s arms as the morning light spread across their room.

Rowan drifted back into sleep, waking for good when he caught a whiff of coffee from the kitchen’s direction.

“Morning, you sleepy buzzard,” Aelin grinned, sipping from her mug.

Rowan dropped a kiss on her head as he reached for his mug. He took a long drink, sighing as the milky, sweetened caffeine hit his mouth.

“I will never understand how you drink your coffee black, Fireheart.”

“Not all of us need to sweeten the hell out of coffee to drink it, Ro. Maybe if you can’t handle the real thing, you should go back to your pretty little cups of crappy cafe tea.”

“Mention my pretty little teacups again, Ae…”

She giggled. “You be quiet and drink your coffee-flavored milk, my love. We both know you’re impossibly grumpy until you have caffeine in your veins.”

He grumbled something unintelligible as he drank his coffee.

They were nearly late to work that morning, even having planned an extra half hour to arrive, thanks to Aelin wearing what Rowan dubbed her “sexy professor suit.” She fixed the pins in her French twist in the car, making herself once again a portrait of professionalism, and slipped Rowan’s hand from her leg.

“Two hands on the wheel, Whitethorn.”

He pouted. “But I’m a safe driver and I want to hold your hand.”

“My hands are over here, love, not down by my skirt.”

When he pulled into his spot, Aelin closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath.

“You good, Fireheart?”

Gods, she loved hearing him call her that. “Yeah. I just…needed a moment to settle myself. To tell myself the cameras aren’t here to tear apart what I say.”

Rowan wrapped his hands around hers. “Dr. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the bland reporters are here to stand in awe of your expertise. Not a single word you say will come across as anything but brilliant and beautifully said.”

She squeezed his hands, her usual confidence returning. “I love you, buzzard.”

“I love you too, Fireheart. Let’s go talk about our amazing achievement.”

The day sped by in a blur of reporters, interviewers, teleprompters, practiced speeches, lights, cameras, and crew. When the last bleached-blonde anchor of the last interview of the day cut her crew’s cameras, Aelin flopped against her second-in-linguistic-command, Dr. Nehemia Ytger, the expert on ethnic African languages.

“If I never see a news crew again, it’ll be too soon,” she sighed. “I’m beat.”

Nehemia snickered. “But we’re done talking about how proud we are that Maeve and her marvelous company have done such a grand service to the world.”

Aelin snorted softly. “Right. And now we servicepeople want to go home and take off our heels.”

“Amen to that.”

As the team filed out of the studio, Rowan made his way over to Aelin. “Holding up?”

“Not anymore,” she said, leaning casually into his side. “My heels are killing me, there’s a hairpin stabbing into my scalp, and I really, really need to pee.”

Rowan laughed, deep and husky. “Let’s get you home, then.”

“I’m stopping in the bathroom first.”

Just before she left the ladies’ room, Aelin heard voices in the break area. Familiar voices--Rowan’s, Maeve’s, and the snippy, borderline whiny tones of Remelle Frelau, who worked in the marketing department and had a hell of a boner for Rowan.

“--looking at revenue over--” Maeve’s voice cut out, but from the gasps of the other two, the revenue was through the roof.

“And it’s all thanks to this genius here,” drawled Remelle, who if Aelin had her guess was probably clinging onto Rowan like a platinum-blonde leech.

“Ms. Frelau, this was the product of a team. No single person could possibly have made it happen alone.”

“Oh, call me Remelle, or even better Remy. And you’re the team leader, so you practically did create it by yourself.”

Aelin snickered to herself. Vapid bitch had no idea what she was saying.

“That’s not how teams work, Ms. Frelau. We wouldn’t be here without Dr. Galathynius and Dr. Ytger’s language expertise, not to mention the creative genius of the engineers, graphic designers, linguists, and programmers.”

“Ms. Frelau, though her judgment is clearly biased, has a point, Mr. Whitethorn,” Mave said. “You demonstrated remarkable collaborative leadership qualities throughout this project, and I fully expect that you will continue to do so.” Maeve’s heels clicked away. Rowan’s voice followed her.

“Thank you, Ms. Ond, but I have to credit Dr. Galathynius--”

“Will you stop kissing that woman’s ass?” snorted Remelle. “Gods, she’s not worth your time or your praise; all she does is translate words into different languages and you idiots drool over that like it means anything.”

Aelin jerked like she’d been slapped. She knew Remelle was a self-centered, shallow, spiteful bitch, but she hadn’t known she would do this.

“--did more for this project than you and your useless whiteboard of catchphrases,” growled Rowan.

“I don’t care what she ‘did for the project,’ Rowan, she’s never going to be good enough for you.”

“Thank you for caring about my welfare, Frelau, now please kindly fuck off.”

Aelin chose that moment to saunter out of the bathroom and head straight for Rowan, her face showing no hint of having heard that conversation. She did note with satisfaction Remelle’s vain attempt to march out of the room with some semblance of dignity. Too bad her heel caught on the seam of the hallway carpet and the break room’s tile flooring and she had to grab the doorframe to keep from collapsing.

“You’re awfully quiet, Aelin.”

“Just thinking. Processing, really. It’s been a hell of a day.”

Rowan nodded. “I bet.”

“And hearing fucking Remelle rip into me for being useless…didn’t make it better.”

“Shit, you heard that?”

“Yeah. I heard that.” Her voice was hollow.

Rowan pulled into their driveway and shut off the engine. Reaching across the console, he cupped Aelin’s face in his hands. “Aelin. You are brilliant. You are terrifyingly smart. You are a force of nature. Nothing, nothing you will ever do is useless. Don’t let that jealous bitch make you think you are less than the perfect woman.”

She smiled tentatively at him. “She…she told me before that last interview that I could never be enough for you. Because you--because of Lyria.”

Rowan raked a hand through his hair. “Ae, can we talk about this inside?”

That night, he told her about his former fiancé, Lyria. He told her about their whirlwind romance, their youthful dreams. He told her about the horrific crash that stole away Lyria’s life. A drunk trucker, a narrow pass in the mountains. He showed her the box in which he kept all the memories of that life. He cried. Aelin cried. He curled against her, let her comfort him.

“Sometimes, I wish she was still here. She’d understand everything. She always did.”

Aelin had no response. She let Rowan fall asleep, his weight shifting off her and into his bed, and looked through the box. Everything she saw served as another reminder that this was the first woman he loved, the woman who understood everything.

She was worthy of him.

But was Aelin?

The more she looked at Rowan and Lyria’s happiness, the more the answer solidified.

No.

When Rowan woke up the next morning, Lyria’s box sat on Aelin’s side of the bed, a side that had not held Aelin.

He glanced out the window.

Her car was gone.

He got up and frantically paced through the house.

Everything she’d brought into his home was gone.

As was she.

Present day.

Rowan opened his front door mechanically, pulled off his shoes, dropped his work backpack on its shelf, and was halfway to his bedroom before he realized he’d just opened his front door. His front door that was always locked.

Someone was in his house.

Someone who either had a duplicate key or insanely good lockpicking skills.

Exactly one person owned a duplicate key to his house.

Aelin.

That’s impossible, she lives in Orynth, she can’t be here, he told the traitorous part of his brain that leapt with joy at seeing Aelin’s face again.

He turned around and made his way through the kitchen--nobody there--to the living room. He flicked on a lamp, casting a soft light around the room.

And nearly had a heart attack.

Aelin Galathynius sat on his couch.

For a moment, he just gawked at her. She looked so…different. Older. Gone was the infectious smile that had captured his heart. Dark shadows smeared under her eyes, testament both to the long hours she devoted to her work and to recent sleepless nights. She was twisting a ring on her right hand, a familiar sign of her nerves. From his angle, Rowan could see a hint of dark script on her wrist. A tattoo. The Aelin he knew didn’t have tattoos.

“I’m not a ghost.” Her voice, weary and hollow, broke the tense silence.

Rowan crossed the room, propped an arm on the fireplace. “Why?”

“Why am I here? Why did I leave? Why did I cut you out of my life?”

“Everything.” He couldn’t keep the waver from his voice, but his eyes burned into hers.

She took a steadying breath. “I’m here to apologize, first of all. I’m here to face what I ruined and to try and start mending it. I’m here to come to terms with everything I broke when I left three years ago.”

Whatever he’d expected her to say, it certainly wasn’t that.

“I’m sorry, Rowan. I’m sorry I left like that. I was…I was scared.”

“You can’t just run away from your fears, Aelin!” He couldn’t keep the frustration from his tone. “You can’t just abandon someone when you have a bad day!”

“I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have left! I know I can’t run from my fears; I’ve spent the last three years trying and fucking failing to do that! But I don’t know what else to do.”

“Saying something about it would have been a good first step.”

“I’m bad at emotions, Rowan. I tried. It wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse.”

Aelin flicked a tear from her face. “I know.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, Rowan. I should never have left. I let some stupid comment root into my head and make me doubt myself. I made myself believe I would never be good enough for you. I left you. I loved you, and I still left you. I still love you, even though I’ve tried to suppress it. I can never make up for that. I…I just wanted to tell you how much I’ve regretted that horrible decision all these years. I want you to be happy, Rowan, I--”

“How am I supposed to be happy without a source?” He’d dropped onto the couch, close enough to touch her but still keeping his distance.

“What?”

“You didn’t just take yourself away, Aelin. You were my happiness. I’ve spent three fucking years trying to make myself believe I’m better without you in my life, and I can’t.”

She was unabashedly crying by that point. “What do you want me to do? How can I make up for abandoning you?”

“Stay.”

Her gaze locked onto his, both of their eyes pooling with tears.

“Stay with me, Fireheart.”

“But--”

“I never stopped loving you either.”

A choked sob ripped out of Aelin. Rowan couldn’t hold himself in check any longer; he reached out and tugged her gently into his arms. To his shock, she didn’t resist, burying her face into his chest as sobs shook her shoulders. When she calmed, he tilted her chin up.

“Will you stay, Aelin?”

“Yes. Even though I will never deserve your forgiveness, yes.”

Translations:

* = “that pinched old whore who couldn’t convince a dick to come within ten metres of her if she dressed up provocatively” (Italian)

** = loosely translated as “Fucking hell, I can’t get drunk off this garbage.” (in order, Russian (badly phonetically spelled out because Rowan POV), Spanish, German, Spanish again, French) (the Russian doesn’t directly translate, so it could mean several different variations of expletive)

Might there be a second part? Perhaps......

#my writing #rowaelin month #aaaaaangst

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ilooklikeaburntchickenugget · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, I love your writing. I really want to make a request where the readers have eating disorder but works in the modeling industries. She is like dating Gerard, but they were in a super big fight because of her eating disorder, as well as her constant traveling for fashion weeks, and at the end, they make up, and Gerard is helping her getting better, and stuff like that. I really love your writing, can you please write one? THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!

Title: Poisons A/N: I actually got two requests for something like these. The endings for both requests were slightly different, but here’s the first one. I didn’t really edit it, just because I haven’t updated much content in forever, but here you go! Pairing: Gerard Way (probably late Black Parade era) x Model!F!Reader Word count: 3,170 Warnings: Eating disorder, swearing, angst, drama, there’s just a lot.

Okay, so this was not what Gerard expected to come home to.

The man expected to go back to his New York apartment, shared with his gorgeous girlfriend, and for everything to be perfect. Well maybe not perfect, but perfect in Gerard’s mind.

He wanted nothing more than to just eat some chips, not having eaten in 16 hours due to his flight and partial distaste to airplane food, and curl up with his girlfriend, hugging every inch of her curves.

Instead he came home to a house that was nearly empty of any food, only a few protein shakes resided in the large fridge. This was already a huge warning sign Gerard looked out for. His mind attempted to justify itself, thinking that maybe he was jumping to the worst of the worst conclusions. No, you were probably just traveling so much that you weren’t at home enough to actually buy food.

He sighed, moving to one of the cabinets he knew the take out menus were hidden in. Opening it up, he picked up one of the cheap paper menus covered in dust, shaking it with his hand to get it off. Great, these hadn’t been touched in months.

After debating mentally between Chinese and Italian, he moved to your bedroom, in hopes to finally see the love of his life after months of being absent on tour. There you were, peacefully sleeping in bed. Jetlag, he knew.

He carefully removed his shoes, moving to his closet to change his airplane clothes to more comfortable ones. Climbing into the warm bed beside you, he placed his hands on your hips as he always had. His initial smile soon turned into a frown.

Even under the large hoodie you were wearing he could feel the painful outlines of your ribs. Grimacing to himself, he heard a small sigh fall from your lips. “Gee?” You coarsely called out.

“Mhm,” He hummed back, kissing the top of your head despite the pure disappointment towards you that coarse through his veins.

“What’re you doing? Weren’t you supposed to be gone for another week?” You asked again, still half asleep.

“The guys and I decided to cancel the last week where we were just supposed to travel, I missed you too much.” He smiled lightly, moving your hair to the side to kiss your neck.

“Mmm,” You hummed quietly, your consciousness growing back. Within seconds realization hit you, your eyes internally going wide, not wanting to show anything to Gerard, and you pulled away from him slightly.

“Babe,” He sighed, “We’re not doing this again.” “Doing what again?” You tried to pretend to not understand what he was saying.

“You’re a gorgeous, talented model,” He began with a soft smile, “But don’t go into acting, you’re not good at it.” “Gee, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You fired back.

“Take off your hoodie,” He insisted, “Now.” “Gerard, what the fuck?” You scoffed, “Take off my hoodie?” “You heard me,” He stated, “Take it off.” “Why would I take it off?” You scrowled.

“So I can confirm that you haven’t been eating like you’re supposed to.”

“Gerard, please-” You begged, now falling off your pedestal of lies. He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes.

“Why haven’t you?” He asked, looking at you, “What has caused you not to eat again? I thought we were over this.”

“I don’t think that’s your problem.” You snapped. You rarely if ever did so, but this was only further confirmation that you hadn’t eaten in a couple of days. You were cranky.

“Damn right it is my problem.” He sat up next to you, his face had gone completely serious. There were traces of anger in his eyes, his pulsing veins along his muscular arms told you all you needed to know. He wasn’t only infuriated with your habit, he was disappointed.

A word you hated. You absolutely hated. The way it sounded, the meaning, how it made you feel. “Please,” You begged him, your once bright eyes gray from the torture you had put yourself through. “Please what?” He asked, his tone still somewhat harsh.

“Just don’t be mad.” You pleaded. You could see his eyes scan over your face, looking for any signs that you were lying. He found none.

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes to clear his head he nodded lightly. “Alright,” He said barely letting out a breath, “But you need to tell me everything.”

And you did. Most of it at least. You explained how your insecurities resettled themselves in your mind, starting the moment he left for Tour. You talked about how you were getting more gigs and all due to your tinier size. You explained how skin and bones was basically the new trend.

He sat and listened to you. And he believed it, because he knew it was true. But naturally, he also was a human lie detector. Especially with you.

“Okay,” He began, “And what else?” So maybe that one small part your left out was something that you really didn’t want to admit. Gerard had this strong distaste for most of your model “friends”, ya know, the ones who are naturally tiny and eat salads 24/7, never genuinely enjoying a single meal. The one’s who flashed their designer shit everywhere they went, who posted bikini photos every other day and managed to somehow photoshop themselves into complete Barbie dolls. It made Gerard’s blood boil, he never liked you hanging out with them. Because are them you were not Y/N, you couldn’t be. And that made you even more secure.

“There’s nothing else.” You lied. He looked you in the eyes, waiting another moment.

“I’m gonna give you one more chance to tell me the truth,” He sighed, “What else?” “I said nothing.” Your tone was adamant. He rolled his eyes in disbelief.

“You lied to me,” He began, “You just fucking lied to me. We’ve been over this how many times?” “I didn’t fucking lie to you,” You stuck up for yourself, moving further away from him.

“Another lie, damn Y/N.” He sighed, “We’ve been dating for three years, and you still can’t trust me.” “I do trust you, Gerard.” “Then why are you lying to me?” He asked, his tone going to a much harsher pitch.

“Ya know what?” You said, grabbing your pillow violently, getting up from the bed, Gerard looking at you with no emotion. “Fuck you.” You stated.

“Are you seriously gonna leave?” He asked, rolling his eyes, “Immature.” “No, I’m going to the fucking couch where I don’t have to sleep next to a complete dick.” You fired back, going into your closet and grabbing a spare blanket. “You didn’t mean that.” He scoffed.

“Then why the fuck did I say it?” You marched out of the bedroom, flipping him off to which you heard a sarcastic laugh.

This was far from how you had planned his return. You were gonna stock the fridge and pantry, ya know, not give him a chance to think you weren’t eating, and probably have dinner made. You would eat a small portion, making the excuse you had a big lunch with your friends, and bam! Everything would be okay.

But naturally, shit didn’t work out and after numerous insults thrown at each other you found yourself on the couch silently sobbing. You and Gerard had never gone that far, ever. This fight was beyond messy, it was a complete dumpster fire.

You wanted no more than to apologize to him, but you also wanted an apology from him. You should’ve told him everything, that was on you. But he pushed your buttons and he knew what he was doing. It only took 15 minutes, before you heard his soft footsteps coming from the bedroom, and his warm arms wrapping around you, to which his shoulder became one to cry on. His slow and soft coos calming you down, as he began apologizing over and over again, clearly more mad at himself at this point. “Sugar, I’m so so sorry,” He apologized, “I was just really upset.” “I know,” You sniffled, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have called you a dick.” You looked up at him. “Well, I was kinda being one.” He lightly smiled, to which you giggled in his chest. “Just promise me, you’ll start eating again.” “Gee-” You were about to make an excuse when you were interrupted.

“Babe, you have to.” He began, “Remember what your manager said last time?” You sighed, remembering. Yep, they would place you right in a psych ward. “So here’s what’s gonna happen. We’re not gonna tell anyone, but I need you to start eating, okay? We’ll go gradually, start small and build up. Together, okay?” You nodded, placing you head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” You smiled, looking up at him. “I love you too.” He smiled right back down.

-Six months later-

"Gee, that’s too much salt!” You scolded as he put a tablespoon of salt not a teaspoon into the cookie dough you were making.

“Oops.” He looked down to which you smiled lightly. You took a chunk of it placing it into your mouth, and he did the same. You couldn’t help but gag at how much salt was in it. “Salty.” He admitted, and you lightly nudged him.

“Yeah, ya dork.” You smiled. “That’s what happens when you add too much salt.” He lightly laughed, wrapping his hands around your waist from behind and placing his head on your shoulder.

“So what’re we gonna do to fix it.” “Nothing,” You said, “We could like, triple the batch, but that would be way too much.”

“Don’t forget we’re seeing the guys tonight,” He smiled, “They’re gonna eat this shit up.” You sighed, nodding.

“Maybe it isn’t such a bad idea after all.” The two of you spent the next half hour adding more of every ingredient, thankful that your apartment was stocked with food to use.

Carefully, you placed as many trays as you could into the oven, closing it and setting the timer. Giving Gerard a quick peck on the lips, he went off to review some emails as you checked your phone. Of course, the group chat was buzzing.

You sighed as you open the text chain reluctantly, scrolling through only to see your name pop up numerous times. “Y/N, where have you been?” “Yeah, fr, we have been out to lunch with you in forever.” “Why are you ignoring us?” “Really? Now you’re being a fake friend.” “Guys, I’m okay.” You simply responded, “Just really busy.”

“Uh huh, you’ve been doing boutique stuff for months.” “Literally nothing even big.” “Not since that Prada show.” “It’s Gerard, isn’t it.”

And just like that, you were about to light these girls up. Gerard was the only one willing, and quite frankly able, to get you out of the huge hole you had dug yourself into. And damn, now these bitches (I hate misogynistic terms against women, but I think it may fit here) were really gonna act like the good guys. “Don’t bring Gerard into this.” You simply responded. “It has to be him.” “He’s not even worth it.” “You could have any guy in the world, and you chose him.” “He’s way out of your league, and you’re still on your knees for him. Smh.” You knew damn well they were trying to get to you. None of these girls had had any true romance, only summer flings with football players, actors, and singers. Granted, Gerard was a singer, but he made good music. He was an artist at his core, singing was just apart of that art. It didn’t take you more than a moment to remove yourself from the group chat, and block all those girls. The real fake friends. The timer went off, which startled you a bit, but placing your phone down with a heavy sigh, you turned it off, to check out the cookies. The top row was done, which you were going to take out. Naturally, the tsunami of inappropriate texts from who you would once call your “girlfriends” was still flooded in your mind, and like a complete idiot, you reached in, touching and grabbing the sheet. With you bare hands.

“Shit!” You yelped, dropping the pan on the open oven and rushing to put your hand under cold water.

“Y/N?” You heard Gerard rush in. You looked up at him, and judging your hand under water, and the cookie sheet which had clearly gone through it, he took a slight sigh, first going to examine your hand. “You alright?” You nodded despite the tears forming in your eyes.

It wasn’t even the burn that hurt. It was the fact that you knew you let those girls get to you so easily, and the just embarrassed yourself in front of Gerard. You knew he didn’t find it embarrassing at all, it was an honest mistake. But still, it embarrassed the shit out of you. “Baby,” He cooed, moving your head up with his fingers under your chin to see the tears that were now slowly cascading down your red cheeks, “It’s okay.” He said lightly. You nodded, placing your head into his chest and sniffling a bit. “What happened.” “I was just distracted,” You admitted, “Forgot the oven mitt.” He nodded, holding you for a moment longer before he knew you were okay, and going to pick up the mess. “Gee, I can clean it up, I made it-” “No, no, please, just worry about your hand, okay, sugar?” You nodded, attending back to it.

The bright red mark across your hand didn’t want to budge, which you were fine with, considering it didn’t hurt as much, just stung a bit. He managed to clean up all the cookies pretty fast, putting them on the stove top to cool, and quickly going back to you. Giving you a kiss on the top of your head, it was his way of messaging he didn’t want to push the topic. But if you wanted to talk he’d be there to listen. It wasn’t but a few hours later that the guys came over. The mistake from earlier was long forgotten, other than the mark on your hand.

The guys were honestly some of your best friends, just like they were Gerard’s. They truly cared about you, just as much if not more than you cared about them. All of them knew about your struggles, and they were honestly your number one cheerleaders.

So the looks on their faces when they saw you healthy again was one that you could not pay for. It was definitely a lot of pride in you for doing it, and it made you feel even better about your decision to get healthy again.

Honestly, you loved the relaxes atmosphere of just hanging out. Sitting next to Gerard with some water, as he drank a Diet Coke, and some of the guys had beers, some opted otherwise. You could theoretically drink as well, but you didn’t want your boyfriend to ever feel alone or strange not drinking alcohol, considering his rough past with it. So you typically opted for a non alcoholic beverage.

It wasn’t until after the guys were gone and you were in the shower that Gerard figured out what was wrong. Your phone kept buzzing, going off constantly. He had never once checked your phone without your permission. There was a huge element of trust in your relationship, and he never felt that there was a reason to. He knew your passcode, you two had openly shared each others in the case one of you needed to use the others phone, but when he picked up yours and saw all those girls name pop up he scoffed.

He knew he probably shouldn’t have done it, but he opened your phone, scrolling through the messages. Some of them you had yet to block, and they were obnoxious. He went into the group chat where the messages were flooding, reading from the beginning of the day until now.

Pissed was an absolute understatement. If it wasn’t for the sound of the shower you were in keeping him aware of his surrounding, he probably would have smashed your phone. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he placed it face down on the counter right where it was, resorting back to your bedroom in some hope of calming down before you got out, not making anything too obvious.

Everything was fine, completely normal. The two of you laying in bed together, doing your typical night time routine of reading a bit, maybe watching something, it really depended. You could feel how tense Gerard was, even by your head just leaning on his shoulder. His muscles flexed together, twisted into tight knots. You weren’t sure what had him so stressed, there wasn’t a need for him to be, right? “Babe?” You asked, to which he quietly hummed, “Are you alright?” You had caught on quickly, like you always had. And now he had cursed himself for looking at those messages. Transparency, he remembered, transparency.

“Honestly,” He sighed putting his book down, “I- I- I saw those messages.” He stumbled on his own words. You gave him a confused look, “The ones the girls sent.” You let out a sigh. Oh shit, he thought, thinking the worst of the worst. “Please don’t listen to them,” You insisted, “You know you’re not the reason for any problem in my life?” “Of course not,” He scoffed, “You’re totally fine. It’s just, how they treated you that bothered me.” “Gee-” “Y/N, we’ve talked about this.” He turned to you, “I’m not a controlling person, I try my hardest not to be. But damn, those girls are complete poisons. They’re hurting you, they’re doing far more harm than good. And I hope that doesn’t make me sound like a manipulator or anything, but even you’ve admitted you’re a lot different around them.” You sighed and nodded.

“I know, I just-” You began, “I’ve spent so many years of my life surrounding myself with people like them that it’s hard for me to know what to do without that, ya know?” He nodded.

“You don’t need a bunch of model friends thought to still be a great model.” You nodded.

“I’ll cut everything off with them in the morning, okay?” “Babe, you don’t need to rush it,” He said, “I mean, sure, the sooner the better, but this is your timing okay?” You nodded.

“Do you think everything will be okay?” You asked him next.

“Well, after they very possibly blame you for everything over text and try to put you down a psychological spiral, because that’s what they do, then yes, everything should be okay.” He smiled to which you nudged him. “You’re making this so much easier.” You sarcastically said, “I don’t even know why I ask you.” “Because you love me.”

#gerard way #gerard way fanfiction #gerard way x reader #gerard way x y/n #gerard way x you #gee way #my chemical romance #my chemical gerard #My Chem #my chemical gee #my chemical romance x reader

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amillionsmiles · 4 years ago

Text

in your bedroom after the war (Dick/Artemis)

Title: in your bedroom after the war Summary: As far as coping mechanisms go, Artemis could be doing worse. At least her method has a gymnast’s ass. / Post-Invasion, pre-Outsiders. Rated M. A/N: I have one (1) agenda and that is messy grieving fuck buddies who are each other’s ride-or-dies. if you are not into fic that sits squarely in sad feral horny territory, then this is probably not your speed.

[Read and review here] or continue under the cut.

| GOTHAM

| JANUARY 14, 2017; 12:05 AM EST

Artemis is a bit heavier than she was in her teenage years, but her feet land lightly on the fire escape by the window. An hour ago, she’d called her mom from Metropolis, promising she’d be home by midnight. Ever since her daughter faked her death a year ago, Paula Nguyen has become even more of a worrywart, and Artemis knows that the five minutes she’s running late are going to cause her to receive an earful.

“Didn’t think I’d see you back in this neck of the woods.” A familiar figure drops from the roof above onto the rung below her.

“Nightwing.”

She’s not surprised that he’s been keeping tabs. Officially, he’s been on a leave of absence for the past six months, but Dick, like her, is vigilant in his grief.

She’d come back to Gotham because it put her closer to Metropolis and Beta Squad’s continued investigation of LexCorp, but the truth is that she could have Zeta-tubed from Palo Alto easily. Their—her—apartment had been no good though, not without Wally. So she’d left most of her things in storage to figure out later and moved back in with her mom. On days when Artemis can’t muster the energy to get out of bed, Paula wheels determinedly around the kitchen, ready to whip up some mì xào or a warm bowl of mì gói. They play card games and laugh about how bad Wally was at tiến lên the first time Paula tried to teach him. Your boy has no patience, he always wants to play his strongest cards right away, her mom had teased, and Wally had protested, I make it a rule to always put my best foot forward! and Artemis had loved him even more then.

Loved. Loves. She hates the past tense.

“I mean, were you ever going to ask me to grab coffee?”

She can see the bits of Wally in his cracks. In a room together, it was always easy to tell they were best friends from the way they riffed off each other. The acrobat and the speedster: all verbal gymnastics and fast-moving quips. But unlike Wally, who liked poking fun because he liked getting attention, Dick is at his wittiest when trying to avoid talking about himself.

Artemis reaches out and pulls him to sit down beside her. She makes a show of looking at her watch.

“How’s… 12:15 AM this Saturday?”

Dick pretends to check it against his mental schedule. If his is anything like hers, it probably goes: Wake up. Exercise (beating up bad guys counts). Mourn.

“Yeah, seems like I can swing it.”

“Perfect,” says Artemis, sliding up the glass panes to let them into her childhood bedroom. “I’ve got just the stuff.”

In the kitchen, Brucely stirs briefly from his dog bed to sniff the air and yip, then curls back asleep. Paula hands Dick a mug, waiting for him to take a sip before saying, “So you were the one who had the brilliant plan to have my daughter fake her death.”

Dick splutters; from the table, Artemis rises to his defense. “Mom,” she says. “Leave him be.”

Setting his cup down, Dick leans against the cabinets, bending his head slightly and rubbing the back of his neck. He does a good job of appearing chastised, and Artemis wants to roll her eyes, if only because she’s heard from Bette and Raquel that this pose is far too effective at convincing women to want to forgive him or try again.

“I’m not leading much of anything these days, if that’s at all a comfort to you.”

“Hmph.” Paula sniffs. “You live alone?”

“Yeah.” Dick shoots Artemis a questioning look over her mom’s head. Artemis shrugs.

“What do you do to fill the time?”

“A lot of reading. Gotham’s library system actually has a pretty good selection, believe it or not. I’ve also gotten really into meditating.”

“And you don’t sleep.”

Dick stiffens. For the first time, he looks exposed, a boy with too much guilt and too much time on his hands.

“I do. Tonight I was just… restless.”

Paula nods and backs up her wheelchair so she can sit by Artemis, curling her fingers over Artemis’s hand and squeezing. She raises her drink, Artemis and Dick following suit, the three of them toasting to invisible losses.

“Aren’t we all.”

Later, back on the fire escape, Dick taps his fingers against the railing, jittery. “I feel like I need to start doing jumping jacks. What was in that stuff?”

Artemis bites back a smile. “Yeah, Vietnamese coffee packs a hit. That’s my bad. Probably should have given you something non-caffeinated at this hour.”

“It’s fine. I’ll jog it out, or something.” He turns to go, but Artemis stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, listen—it was good seeing you tonight. And if you need someone to talk to…” What she really means is: it’d be nice to be around someone who’s hurting as much as I am. Not to say that the rest of the team wasn’t as torn up over Wally’s death, but she and Dick had been ground zero. Closest to the blast.

After a pause, Dick nods. “Yeah… I could use a sparring partner, actually. I’ll send you an address.”

“Okay.” Satisfied, Artemis withdraws her hand, curling her fingers into her palm.

It feels like a start.

Dick’s directions lead Artemis to Wayne Manor; from there he takes her to the Bat Cave.

“I thought you were striking out on your own,” Artemis says, using her forearms to deflect a kick to her face. Dick grunts and recovers, throwing a punch to her stomach; she dances out of the way.

“I am. I just pop in here from time to time because Bruce has better equipment. Plus there’s less of a chance of me disturbing the neighbors.” He gestures to the eerily blue-lit stone walls around them.

Artemis feints and goes low, ducking under Dick’s guard. Two quick hits to Dick’s sternum pushes him back, before he gets a hand on her wrist and twists her around so that her back is pressed against his chest.

“Weren’t we supposed to be talking?”

Kicking his shin, Artemis breaks free. “All right, fine. I’ll start.” Jab. “I keep wanting a scapegoat.” Kick. “Like, one person to blame, instead of something as big as the Reach. But it’s not some giant revenge thing, and I know Wally wouldn’t want me to go down that sort of all-consuming rabbit hole even if it was, and that pisses. Me. Off.” On those last words, she manages to use Dick’s momentum against him and flips him over her shoulder.

For a minute, it’s so quiet between them she can hear the faint plip of water dripping from a stalactite into the water below the sparring dais. Still lying on the floor, Dick confesses, “I keep hearing him.”

“I make a joke to myself and he’s there, in my ear, with the punchline. And then…” He passes a hand over his face. “And then I realize that the real punchline is him being gone.”

Slowly, Artemis approaches him. She feels like she did when they were undercover at Haly’s circus so many years ago, that brief moment of hangtime before their hands connected in the air. She means to sit down next to him, pat his shoulder, she doesn’t know what, but instead Dick sweeps her legs out from under her and she goes down hard, the air whooshing out of her chest as she falls flat on her back.

“Agh!” The release sets something loose inside her. Next thing she knows, she’s yelling again, louder, just because.

Dick catches on and then it’s just the two of them shouting, their voices echoing through the cavern, threading around and piling atop each other like a flock of birds. After they’re done, Dick rolls so that they’re lying side by side.

“You know, when we were starting out—when we first became friends—I used to make fun of Wally that if he kept talking so much while running he was bound to swallow more bugs, or something. And he’d just shoot back like, ‘Nah dude, you think I’m not fast enough to see them and dodge them in the air?’ But you know how he was always so hungry after missions? One time I was so mad at him I put a bug in his sandwich. I’ve never forgotten the look on his face after he bit into it and I said, dodge that.”

“You didn’t.” Artemis gasps and covers her mouth, horrified, but she can see it so vividly: the colors draining from Wally’s face, making his freckles pop even more against his skin, the same greenish tint his cheeks took the time they went to Vietnam and he got food poisoning. He’d spent two days feverishly glaring up at the mosquito netting, and Artemis had draped cold hand towels over his forehead and promised she wasn’t going to leave him for the very obliging boy who kept bringing them ice.

“I did.” Dick is gleeful. “Really put the ‘rank’ in prank.”

Artemis snorts; the snort turns into a full-blown guffaw. Dick turns toward her, laughing too. His hair is matted with sweat but still soft; it brushes against her forehead.

It feels so good to be close to someone again, to be able to flip on a dime from sadness to frustration to anger to laughter and not have to explain herself. She can’t remember the last time she smiled and didn’t feel guilty about it, and she means it more affectionately than anything when she reaches over and brings Dick’s mouth to hers, like if she inhales whatever they’ve temporarily managed to create here between them, it’ll be enough to tide her over for the next few months. For a second, he’s warm and responsive, before his lips stiffen and he pulls back.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

Shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t. Shouldn’t beat yourself up about it, shouldn’t blame yourself for getting back in the game. Artemis is sick of people telling her how to deal, how it’s supposed to go. It’ll get better and then it doesn’t. People talk like there are guidebooks for this kind of shit, like it’s a marathon she just needs to pace herself through. And it’s the stupidest thing, but she misses being held.

She sits up and crosses her arms, resisting the urge to curl in on herself. “You didn’t do anything. I’ll go.”

“No, Artemis, wait, I don’t think you should go, I just want to understand what’s going on—”

“I want you to touch me, okay?” she explodes. “I want you to touch me because he’s never going to again and I know you loved him too and—and maybe if it’s you, I won’t feel so desperately alone.”

Dick looks stricken, and then, hesitantly, he reaches for her. His eyes are so blue, the kind of crushed eggshell you’d use to make a paint. “You’re not alone.”

“Prove it,” she says, vision blurring with tears—wanting, needing him closer, and then his hairline is up against hers again and his nose is at her cheek, his mouth at her jaw, soft but with a willingness to bruise. Don’t ask me what we’re about to do, Artemis silently begs, and Dick doesn’t.

Wally had been a restless lover. Always turning them over, switching positions. Artemis had taken it as a challenge, part of the ongoing competition that defined their relationship. Deep down, she’d known that Wally would be just as content if the rest of their sex life consisted solely of spooning gently on Sundays, which, if anything, was why she’d been so eager to experiment—because it felt like an easy gift she could give, not something she had to master to “maintain excitement” or make him stay.

She’s not sure what she expected from Dick. Maybe that’s a comfort—that she wasn’t fantasizing before they happened, wondering about all the mechanics of how it would go. Dick lets her call the shots, lets her ride him into the ground, the grip of his fingers around her thighs the only reminder she isn’t just angling toward oblivion. When he presses his thumb between her legs, it’s a weird sort of anchor—like hearing a voice pick up on a line you thought was dead. She has a body, and here’s someone on the other end of it, caring about her release. As soon as that thought hits, the relief shudders through her; she keeps rocking long enough to feel Dick follow, a stutter and a grunt, before she collapses boneless over him, the sweat of his skin a comforting stickiness against her cheek.

Internally, she apologizes to Bruce for desecrating his training space. Then again, they’re hardly the first of the Justice League to get handsy in less than appropriate places. She’s seen how Black Canary and Green Arrow act around each other.

Below her, Dick catches his breath. The rush of blood—his or hers—is loud in her ears.

“I didn’t think you’d be so…” Giving, she means to say, but it gets lost on her tongue. “I mean, Zatanna…” she trails off again.

If Dick’s embarrassed at the prospect of his ex-girlfriend having blabbed about the details of their sex life to Artemis, he doesn’t show it. His fingers find a snag in her hair; gently, he works it loose. The air smells hedonistic. He keeps combing. Nice is the only word she can think to describe it, and that makes her want to cry again, so she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his chest.

Dick pauses his ministrations. He flattens his palm against the base of her neck and just—holds her there.

“Don’t mention it.”

When she goes home that afternoon to shower, she runs the water on full blast for a long time.

Armed with Chinese food, she visits Dick’s place the next day intent on making amends. Dick doesn’t even act surprised; he just points to the glass coffee table where she can set the bag of chopsticks, napkins, and takeout.

“I’m trying to decide what to watch.”

There’s really no need for him to stand in front of the TV the way he does, one hand propped on his hip as he clicks through options with the remote. Artemis lets herself ogle, a bit. The surest way to blow past what happened between them yesterday is to be honest with herself, right? And as far as coping mechanisms go, Artemis could have done worse. At least her method has a gymnast’s ass.

“Any preferences?”

“Between what?” asks Artemis, cracking open the carton of lo mein and settling back against the cushions. The Netflix suggestion algorithm onscreen paints a condemning picture of Dick’s tastes. “True crime or… true crime?”

Wally had been really into nature documentaries. One time during freshman year, when they were still living on Stanford’s campus, they’d gotten high in Wally’s dorm room and watched Blue Planet. Wally had cried when the seal got flung apart by killer whales.

“I’ll Be Gone in the Dark it is, then,” says Dick. He settles next to her on the couch, peeling back one of the orders and sniffing its contents. “What’s this one?”

“Salt and pepper ribs. They were today’s special.”

“Artemis.” Dick beams. “You really do care about me.”

Ten minutes into the episode begs a single question: “Isn’t it sort of depressing that you spend so much of your day fighting crime, and then you go home to unwind and just watch… more of it?”

Dick shrugs. “It keeps me sharp. And it’s nice seeing other people solve problems.”

“Well, if you ever feel like branching out, there’s a short film about Rubik’s cubes you might like.” Artemis nudges his side. “Remember when you were a scrawny math geek?”

Bringing both hands behind his head, Dick smirks. “Still a math geek. Just not scrawny.”

Artemis stares. That was just a bit of friendly showboating, right? Or was it a flirt? Not trusting herself, she whips her gaze back toward the TV. What feels like eons later, the credits roll.

“Artemis,” Dick says, too soft for having just finished a show about murder. He taps the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got some food stuck.”

She wipes with the back of her hand; a breaded piece of orange chicken emerges as the culprit. Without thinking, she flicks it off, sending it flying somewhere onto Dick’s carpet.

“Oops.”

Chuckling, Dick shakes his head. “I need to vacuum tomorrow, anyways.”

The mention of tomorrow stirs her. “Right. I should head out.”

“Yeah.” Dick rises to help her clean up their mess, holding open the plastic bag so she can toss in the soiled napkins and other bits of trash. “Or—”

He hesitates, but the hesitation’s enough. It might as well be a hand on her wrist, with how it stops her in her tracks. All night, despite what she told herself, she’s been looking for proof: proof that his aloneness fits the shape of hers, that he needs her, too. This time, Dick makes the first move—cups her face in both hands and kisses her, slow and deep and full of heat. Some pepper from the food they ate still lingers on his lips, making her mouth tingle, and Artemis is dizzy and flat on her back on the couch before she knows it, giving in.

Not scrawny at all, she thinks, admiring the solidness of Dick’s knees on either side of her, the weight of his frame as they grind together. The sheer mechanics of it feel very horny-teenager-after-prom, but the way Dick sucks her bottom lip and swallows her breath down with it is decidedly adult. These days, Artemis practically lives in her sports bra, which doesn’t exactly grant easy access, but when Dick’s fingertips skim over the cotton covering her breasts the sensation zings all the way down her spine.

“Need… off…”

“Yeah,” Dick murmurs, humming as he moves down the column of her neck. “Gimme a sec, I’m working on it.”

She’d worn sweats because she figured their bagginess would keep her from sparring again and any potential… situations that could arise from that. Instead, all it means is Dick unties the drawstrings easily, sliding her pants down her legs. Cool air brushes across her as he shifts positions; she wants to sob in relief. His teeth graze her hip and then catch the edge of her panties and—oh. Fuck. The moan tears out of her and she scrabbles at the armrest, hips rising of their own accord. Next time, she is handcuffing Dick to a bed, because what he’s doing with his tongue and fingers should be illegal. She can feel him grinning, the bastard, and the only thing keeping her from crushing his head to a pulp between her thighs is the maneuver he pulls where he hooks her knees over his shoulders, so he can change the angle and plunge in deeper. Artemis shoves the edge of her T-shirt into her mouth at the last minute, only barely managing to muffle her cry.

Dick surfaces from his solo mission looking entirely too satisfied, mouth glistening. Trembling, still, from her orgasm, Artemis squints at him, possessed by some combination of unbridled lust and rage.

“Dick.”

“You calling, or asking?”

“Shut up,” she hisses. She feels like a newborn foal, after what he just did to her, but the urge to dismantle him just as thoroughly sends her surging upward and pushing him back. Dick welcomes their reversed positions by peeling off his shirt and tossing it over his shoulder, all while Artemis works furiously at his belt. It shouldn’t feel so good, to hear the metal clink against his button and watch the leather slide through the loops. To see the shadows the light of the TV casts on him—the lashes on his cheeks, the hollow of his throat. Artemis hadn’t paid much attention the first time, too desperate and caught up a bit in self-loathing, but now she’s actually enjoying this, savoring the flex of Dick’s abs as he pushes up to meet her, his skin pebbling at her touch.

“I’m going to take you apart,” she purrs.

Dick groans and bucks. The sensation sends a sharp spike of pleasure through her, and she clamps down on him tighter, refusing to yield.

“Try me, Tigress,” he rasps, pushing himself up on one arm so he can mouth at her collarbone. With his other hand, he pulls off her hairtie so her hair comes free of her ponytail, and this is going to be a thing with him, isn’t it, him wanting to fuck her while her hair swings loose around her face. She indulges him for a few minutes, claws his back and bites his shoulder for good measure, but then she’s pushing him back down and stretching out her body as languidly as possible to remind him who’s boss. Their pace slows. Dick keeps a hand fisted in her hair, so he can tug her head back in order to keep her neck exposed to his wanton mouth, but his grip gets less sure the closer she pushes him to the edge.

“Art—” says Dick, the single syllable like a painting pinned to the wall, fraught with desire, and then he just lets it drop, the tresses of her hair falling through his fingers. She wants to tell him that he’s beautiful, that he does look like a boy wonder, right then, in the midst of coming undone, chest flushed and hair mussed and pupils blown nearly wide enough to overtake the blue.

She doesn’t, but she stays the night, and that’s close enough.

High-functioning, Artemis’s therapist had called her, before Artemis moved back to Gotham. And it does feel like a high—the sneaking around, the after-hours meet-ups, the back-and-forth. There’s no one really keeping tabs on her, though Artemis has plenty of cover stories if anyone asks (new intel, side reconnaissance, etcetera, etcetera). Her mom eyes her and says, “As long as you’re not planning on staging your own death again, because I will find out and I will kill you this time,” and that’s that. Artemis nearly laughs. If anything, what she’s doing is the opposite, a small resurrection. An entire month and a half passes this way: day trips and dinners and movie nights and Dick and her in a bathtub, in the shower, against a wall. She even wears a gown and heels once, not because they have an actual event to attend, but because Dick has a fantasy that involves taking her from behind in the Wayne Manor library.

They’re in his apartment on a Sunday morning bathing in the afterglow, sheets tangled around their waists. Thank god Dick is one of those assholes that splurged on not only a nice mattress but also a solid bed frame. Artemis reaches over to push the hair out of his eyes. The black tuft on the back of his head that she likes grabbing is fluffed up like a duck's tail, and under the sunlight slanting through the windows, he looks angelic.

“Are you falling back asleep?”

Yawning, Dick snags her around the waist, dragging her to him. She should not delight this much in being manhandled.

“You wore me out,” he complains, tucking his chin over her shoulder.

“They just don’t make them like they used to,” Artemis sighs. Dick growls a little at the dig, fingers tightening against her hip.

Well. If he’s going to nap, she is, too. Comfortably spooned, she snuggles back against him, prepared to drift off.

“Do you think Wally would have wanted…” Dick doesn’t finish the thought.

Artemis turns in his arms. Dick has long eyelashes, and he’s looking at her through them almost bashfully. She places a hand on his chest. Feels his heartbeat thump once, twice.

“I think he would want us to be happy.”

“Are you?” Dick’s voice fades out and he has to swallow hard to clear his throat. “Happy?”

“I’m not… miserable.”

Dick runs his hand up her bare arm, over her shoulder. “Me neither.”

“You know, Wally and I thought…” She bites her lip, remembering a whoosh of air, Wally speeding to her side to kiss her and interrupting her report on the disabled Paris MFD. I know we promised each other we’d get out of this game, but maybe we can have our life together and play hero, too. “We thought we’d have everything.”

Dick’s response isn’t mournful; it’s matter-of-fact. “After my parents died, I never really convinced myself that I could have it all.”

“That sounds like something Batman would say.”

“Does it?”

“A little.”

Once upon a time, Artemis had stood before the team ready to lay bare her darkest secret, waiting to be kicked out. And Dick had shown his hand: he’d known from the beginning and hadn’t cared. You aren’t your family. You’re one of us. She knows he’s second-guessed himself over the years, wondering how fit he actually is to play leader. But for her, trust has always been the easiest thing about the two of them. It was why she’d said yes so easily to his deep cover mission—because she knew that he wouldn’t quit until he’d brought all of them home, that he would do whatever he could to keep them safe.

Taking his face in both her hands, she looks deep into his eyes. “You deserve good things, Dick Grayson.”

“Mm.” Dick smiles into her kiss, hooks his ankle over hers. “Keep telling me that. I’ll start to believe it.”

Jade abandons Will and Lian on a Tuesday, and Artemis’s carefully crafted equilibrium falls apart. At least this time she’s not the one directly being left, unlike when she was a teenager. Her expectations of her older sister had hardly been high, but if she’d plotted them on a graph they’d have trended upward. Now they’ve tanked.

“Did she leave any hint of where she was going?” Dick asks over the whir of his juicer. He’s gotten really into squeezing oranges lately; Artemis can’t complain because he always gives her the first glass.

“It’s Jade. She never wants to be found, and I hardly think she’s about to try an Eat Pray Love type thing.”

“Eat Slash Steal, maybe?” Dick offers, dropping two ice cubes into a drink and setting it in front of her.

Artemis sips, balling up a napkin and throwing it at him at the same time. “Watch it, that’s still my family you’re talking about.”

“I’m sorry. How’s Will taking it?”

“As well as any dad trying to raise a two-year-old by himself would.”

“So, poorly.” Dick taps his finger against the table. “Are they coming here?”

Artemis looks at him blankly. “Why?”

“I figured they might want to be closer to you and your mom now that Jade’s gone. Gotham’s not so bad—you and I turned out fine. And Will probably needs to look into preschools and a babysitter for Lian soon. If you move in with me, you can bring her over whenever.”

The last piece of information slips in so casually she thinks she’s misheard. “What?”

“If you move in with me, you can bring Lian over whenever,” repeats Dick. “This place is as good as yours. You’re over here all the time anyway.”

Suddenly, she can’t breathe. “You’re serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She can’t meet his eyes. “W—Will’s home is in Star City. He’s not going to move.”

Slowly, Dick says, “Okay. But my offer doesn’t really depend on Will.”

Her stuff is still in boxes. She’s still paying for a storage unit almost 3,000 miles away. And Dick is waiting on her so intently it makes her chest hurt.

Artemis stands up. “We’re not doing this.”

Dick’s eyebrows rise. Annoyance, or maybe anger, flickers across his face. “You wanna fill me in on what exactly it is we’re doing, according to you?”

“We’re not going to fight about this like we’re…” In a relationship. In love. In anything other than a messy configuration started by shared grief. She doesn’t say any of it out loud, but she doesn’t need to—Dick’s always been great at reading people, and he’s known all her tells from the start.

“Right.” The single syllable comes out as cold and pointed as an icicle. He pushes his chair back from the table and stands up. The clouds are rolling in, throwing shadows across his features. Even now, Artemis wants to kiss him, wants to be the one to smooth the furrow between his eyebrows away.

“Dick…”

“Do me a favor, will you?” Dick grabs his jacket from the hook by his door, shrugging it on. He pauses, briefly, in the doorway. “Lock my door on the way out.”

That night, she lies alone in her bedroom next to the picture of her, Wally, and Brucely. Brucely snuffles at the foot of her bed and then leaps onto the covers, and this time she doesn’t shoo him off. Neither does she fall asleep.

There was a song Jade had liked to sing, passed down from their mother: a Vietnamese lullaby about a yellow butterfly, to the tune of “Frère Jacques.” The butterfly flies all over the sky. Come and see. Come and see. When it became clear that Artemis’s hair would grow in blond, not black, Jade started pulling it, making her giggle. You’re the yellow butterfly, see?

The taxicab she calls for the airport is bright yellow in the morning light. Plain old civilian travel for plain old civilian business. You don’t need to be a superhero to fly across the country and move in with your brother-in-law and your niece. She’ll sing silly little songs and wash Lian’s hair, and they’ll be a family same as anyone else’s: clumsy, incomplete.

“Artemis.” Dick coalesces out of the fog. They haven’t seen or spoken to each other in a week, and she should be mad that he’s here because it probably means he’s been monitoring her web traffic and caught wind she’d bought plane tickets. Still, all she feels is relief.

Jade had laughed when Artemis had let slip what she was doing during one rare sisterly bonding moment. “Oh, darling sister, your thing with your little bird boy isn’t about moving on. You’re using him as a holding pattern. Try not to damage him too much, hm?” Rankled, Artemis had hung up the phone—what did Jade know about anything, besides shoving it under the rug and pretending it didn’t matter? Now, though, Artemis sees things more clearly. Jade did know something about bodies and what they could and couldn’t fix; after all, isn’t that why she ran?

She worries with the strap of her duffel bag, letting Dick approach.

“If this were a romcom, you would have waited until I got to the airport and then run through security.”

“If this were a romcom,” says Dick, stopping in front of her and shoving his hands in his pockets, “I’d be trying to make you stay.”

She thinks he might be the one person left on this planet who knows her best. She thinks they could save each other, if they’d let themselves try. But they each have work to do on their own, first.

Setting down her bag, she tucks her face into the crook of his neck and breathes him in. Wherever else she goes, this spot will always feel like forgiveness. Nose buried in her hair, Dick squeezes her back.

The taxi driver rolls down his window. “Is this guy coming with us or not?”

Artemis pulls back, and there’s so much sky in Dick’s eyes.

“You know where to find me,” she says.

| STAR CITY

| JULY 29, 2018; 7:30 AM PST

“Who are you here to recruit this time?” Will asks, leaning against the doorframe, but Artemis doesn’t need an answer, doesn’t need any details but the black hair she can see just over Will’s shoulder, Dick’s voice at the end of a line.

He jumps, and she jumps with him. They’ll figure out everything else as they go.

Before Dick can respond, she says: “I’m in.”

#young justice #artemis crock #dick grayson #traught #dick x artemis #my writing #fanfiction #ff: yj

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yamithediaperdork · 3 years ago

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A very little guy Christmas (DC)

It was the most wonderful time of the year, at least if you asked a certain orangeish red haired freckled faced 10 year old in a 19 year old's body.

wally west always loved Christmas but this year was better then any other as Christmas morning also happened to land on the 4 month anniversary of him and his wonderful boyfriend Dick having moved in together.

Their modest little one story house was well stocked thanks to stocks Dick had from his adopted father Bruce Wayne that were managed by Lucas fox meaning neither boy HAD to work out side of the occasional superhero stint.

Dick had actually been thinking about getting a bigger house till wally had pointed out they didn't have a butler and he wasn't gonna just clean the palace pointing out 'just because I move at super speed doesn't mean I'm not still putting in the same effort'

That being said, Wally had taken it upon himself to put up the Christmas decorations, Dick had just come home with the box with the speedster had removed it from his hands and it look like a Christmas explosion had happened in the house, both inside and out.

"..You know, Barry warned me but I didn't believe him." Dick had teased.

"Hey! I left the tree alone for us to do together." Wally had said, a mock pout on his face, and earning a kiss on his freckled cheek from dick that almost made him melt.

"That you did Wall man, that you did."

As the pair had set up the tree, Dick couldn't help but gush mentally about how much his lover and best friend seemed to have regressed just from such a simple act. he loved the freckled dork with all of his heart and it was that love that helped him get over the semi hurt he'd experience a month before after discovering the dork's secret, something he apparently thought was so shameful that not even Barry or Iris knew about. Considering the bond between the three that said lots.

Still while he had been temped to confront wally at the time, Dick had a better plan and was waiting for Christmas morning, when his adorable little speedster would get a very special Christmas present from Santa.

"Dick! you're not gonna believe this, but somebody, and I don't know who, ran in here and stole the last of those awesome sugar cookies you made while we were getting the tree decorated! I bet it was Zoom, he's always had a sweet tooth!" Wally said, shaking Dick out of his distracted thoughts.

Dick smirked. A speedster wasn't totally unnoticeable if you knew what you were looking for and while you wouldn't be able to do much to stop them in most cases, there was a tell tale vibration in the chest that you could feel if you trained yourself to notice it. even then Wally's claims that it could of been Zoom (who dick knew for a fact was locked up in Iron heights at the moment) Wally's claims fell flat due to the scatter of crumbs on his chin and a smudge of icing on his lip.

"Really? that DASTARDLY fiend!" Dick chuckled. "He even went the extra mile to plant evidence on you!"

Wally froze and blushed, then wiped his face getting icing and crumbs on his Christmas sweater and gave a sheepish laugh.

"oh uh..well, see.." wally started, rubbing the back of his head with the other arm.

"Relax, I'll make more after this, but your helping this time. note that means helping me make the dough and cook it, not stealing half of the cookie dough one tea spoon at a time." Dick chuckled.

"I can handle that, BUT!" and wally held up a finger. "Only if I get to lick the beaters."

"Deal dork."

With the presents under the tree, Wally had to keep fighting the urge Christmas eve not to just unwrap them and re wrap them at super speed to see what he got. For one, he knew it would spoil any surprises Dick had planned for him and well for anther.. he was Nightwing and had been trained by the freaking batman. there was no way Dick wouldn't of found out somehow.

Believe it or not, living with the world second (or was that third?) greatest detective could be a pain, no matter how great his butt looked.

'Though it IS a very, very sexy butt.' Wally thought, watching as Dick bent down to add a last second extra three presents.

"heh, really going all out and spoiling me this year even after I made you wear that ugly sweater huh?" Wally giggled, sitting on the couch and sipping at some eggnog.

It's a wonderful life was playing on TV though never of them were really paying attention to it, it was just a Christmas tradition that Dick had with Bruce and wally had been fine with carrying it on over to their house.

"Oh, these aren't from me. Superman was doing a favor for Santa and dropped these off early, he knows what a good boy you've been." Dick said and smirked.

Wally giggled, he of course knew there was no such thing as Santa (though given what kind of world he lived in, he'd maybe had spent A LOT of time in the north pole when he first got his powers looking for Santa's workshop) He loved how small dick was treating him and wised that he could of confessed his hidden side to Dick.

But with all the weirdo's that dick had dealt with in Gotham, the last thing he wanted was for Dick to find out that sometimes wally liked to act even younger then he had been since December 1st.

"heh, you think superman helps out at Santa's workshop?" Wally asked, winking, and keeping the little game going.

"well maybe once or twice, Likely doesn't do it too much or he'd put the elf's out of work you know." Dick fired back.

Wally snorted, he'd gone for anther drink of eggnog and now some flew out of his nose and onto the front of his own ugly sweater.

"Ha! Picture a picket line around the fortress! 'Workshop jobs for workshop elf's!' and all that!"

"heh, Or maybe he just doesn't care for the work uniform, having to wear the fake ears and all." dick said, coming over as wally was caught up in a fit of giggles mentally picturing it.

Dick smirked as the movie wasn't even halfway over and wally was already falling asleep, he'd caught him going out on a dozen pointless patrols though out the day but Barry had warned him wally tried to tire himself out on Christmas eve under the whole 'the sooner I go to bed, the sooner it's CHRISTMAS!' mindset.

Despite having no powers of his own Dick was pound for pound the stronger of the two (at least when wally wasn't using his speed to add force to his attacks) and Dick scooped the cutie up in his arms, wall's chest to his own and the sleeping redhead's face resting on his shoulder and getting it damp with drool.

arm under his silly little lover's butt and thigh's Dick carried him to their bedroom, gently setting wally on the king sized bed and then slowly getting him undressed, trying not to wake the little guy up.

Getting wally out of his sweater and pants and socks was the easy part, and Dick had originally planned and tucking wally into bed in just his Flash brief's.

The he got a look at the stained on them and rolled his eyes, the boy just didn't like to wipe right!

'Oh well, let's me get to see that cute freckled ass.' Dick mentally chuckled and slowly, carefully, a bit at a time got the undies off of the fastest dork alive.

picking out a pair of loose boxers (with a lighting bolt them going on) Dick tugged them up most of the way, getting Wally's cute little pee pee (though Dick knew it was a grower not a shower) covered up the rolled him gently over onto his side, and drooled little as he looked at dat ass.

the white almost pale skin (Since Wally didn't have the patience for tanning) made the brown freckles all over the boys bubble butt stick out and if it wasn't for the fact he'd of woken wally up, he'd of leaned down and blew a raspberry on one of those cheeks.

'Sigh, the things I do for the greater good.' Dick thought and tugged up the boxers instead and got the wall man tugged under the blankets.

Looking at the clock it was only 8 pm, and Dick wasn't used to going to sleep this early due to his years of patrolling the streets at night.

'..oh what the heck.' He thought, and after going and turning off all the lights in the house and making sure the doors were locked, made his way back to their bedroom and stripping down to his own undies, crawled under the blankets.

it wasn't even five seconds later before wally was snuggling into his chest and cooing 'daddy'

'...I could get used to this." Dick thought with a grin.

Wally yawned as he woke up, a grin coming over his face. He was alone in the bedroom though that wasn't anything new considering, same with Dick carrying him to bed when he conked out.

the only mild surprise was that he hadn't been woken up by a raspberry on his cheeks, he knew how much Dick loved his tushie.

Getting out of bed he slipped on a cream white sleeping robe, not bothering with a top or pants and his only detour as he made his way to the living room/kitchen because of it's open concept was to tap a kidney so to speak.

Dick had made coffee and was reading a new's parent, the tree lights on and a fire going in the fire place and he looked up to see Wally and smirked.

"About time sleepy head! I thought you were gonna sleep the whole day away." Dick teased lightly.

"he, It's only 6:30 in the morning Dick."

"Like I said.."

Blowing a raspberry at Dick wally eyed the presents under the tree and was about to make his move when Dick cleared his throat.

"I was thinking, I know normally Barry and iris let you open all your presents first..But I wanna open MINE all up first. trust me, it'll be worth the wait." Dick said, setting the paper down and coming over leaving his mug behind as well.

wally whined like a little boy and then bit his lip, He WAS semi used to ruling Christmas morning and it couldn't hurt to let Dick this, if he had to. he guessed.

"ooook. just don't take forever. I've seen you with wrapping paper, you try and save it!" wally said, unable to keep the BRAT out of his tone.

"I swear, I'll go fast..not as fast as you but.." Dick chuckled and took a seat.

In what took what seemed like hours to wally (though it was only 15 minutes at most) dick had unwrapped his presents, Having gotten marital arts gear, tech and books from members of the bat family (and some cook books from Alfred) It was his present from wally though that had Dick squealing with delight, as it was a old stuff toy robin Dick had tossed out when they first moved in together since it hadn't handled the move and had basically come apart.

Wally had found it, rescued it and after a few (ok a lot) hit and misses had managed to get it cleaned, stuffed and restitched back together.

"I know it's not as fancy as the other presents bu-" Wally was said, rubbing the back of his head but was cut off as Dick Hugging him hard and kissed both his cheeks over and over.

"Thank you! I love it!" Dick gushed. "This makes me SO glad I went all out for your gifts!"

"heh, ooooh? and speaking of~" wally said, grinning like a fool and blushing at just how much Dick treasured his cheap fixed up stuffed toy over the insane amount of cash that had been spent on his other gifts.

"Yes! Though hand on, I wanna give you your gifts in the right order!" Dick said and semi rushed and pushed wally onto a seated position on the floor.

"heh, jeez, remind me that plushies are the way to your heart." Wally giggled, but took a seat cross legged and holding out his arms, his hands all in 'gimme!' mode.

The first present was from Wally's parents, a set pot's and pans even though they already had some, they tended to try and be practical.

The second was from his ex Artemis, who he was still friends with since the break up had been on both of them and she was dating Red arrow these days. It was a book on the zen of archarcy, though wally wasn't much into shooting.

The third and forth were from Tim and Barbra, Robin and batgirl and were some lower tech versions of the gifts Dick had gotten and the firth was large book with lots of fairy tales in it with vivid drawing to go along with the text.

"heh, Guess Alfred doesn't know I'm not much of a reader." Wally said, blushing at that gift and how childish it was.

"oh you'd be surprised what Al knows." Dick said in a amused voice.

Wally went to ask what that meant but was shushed as the first present from Santa was handed to him, and Dick stood by, with a HUGE grin on his face as wally took the bulky thing and torn at the tape, only to freeze and blush red all over and look back up at Dick.

"Merry Christmas little guy." Dick said as wally looked back down at the pack of little waddlers, the diapers for big babies in his lap.

"I.. but ..you.. " wally whined, trying to find the words to ask just HOW Dick had known Wally was a closeted adult baby!

"Before you ask, Just remember, I'm a world class dective, I found out last month and you have NO idea how hard it's been to keep it to myself till now. well mostly to myself." Dick chuckled.

"...Mostly?" Wally asked, gulping and looking back under the tree.

there was still two more presents from Santa, a present or two from dick, -groan- a present from batman and..

"Tell me you didn't tell Barry and Iris!?" wally whined and pouted.

"I would but that would set a bad example for my baby boy. you shouldn't fib." Dick laughed.

Dick felt a little bit bad as wally whined and whimpered, clearly he hadn't of wanted Barry and Iris to know but they were coming over for dinner later (with Dick and wally going to Wayne manor for dinner on boxing day) and he wanted him free to be a little guy all day.

"can i at least get one of my diapies on before we open the rest?" Wally whined, hugging the pack close to his chest and making Dick smirk.

"Open up your present from Santa then we'll get my widdle man in his diapies." Dick said, Kissing the redhead's cheek and breaking the pout from his face, though damn if wally didn't try and keep pouting, it just kept turning into a grin.

'Santa's' other two presents it turned out were a six pack of wipes and baby powder for the babies bottom, making it clear to Wally that Dick was more then willing to change him.(and BOY did Dick watching that realization click and the the MASSIVE blush that brought!) and then a second pack of diapers.

"Don't worry, we'll get more as you need them, we can even clear out your underwear drawer if we have to." Dick said cheerfully and got a reply that was music to his ears.

"DADDY!"

"awww, it's ok. I know you'll wanna make me all sorts of presents. Now, ready to get your diapies on?" Dick asked, coming closer and gently pushing Wally onto his back.

"Y-yeah but right here?" wally asked, eyes darting to the window, even though the curtains were drawn shut.

"hey, you wanna be a big baby, you have to go with it..when does a BABY get to chose where he gets his huggies changed?" Dick asked teasingly.

"I hate you so much right now!" Wally huffed and laid back, crossing his arms.

"No you don't." Dick said.

"..No I don't." wally agreed.

it was surreal, having his loving boyfriend being so ok with this and slipping into a daddy role with such ease.. It also had wally mentally cursing himself for not having spoken up sooner since he could of been rocking out in diapers ALL this time!

he closed his eyes not in shame but in bliss and his arms uncrossed as a thumb found it's way into his mouth as Dick pulled his undies off then opened the package.

"How many diapers do you want on little man? you can keep sucking your thumb and show me with your finger unless it's gonna take more then five." Dick teased gently.

wally squirmed LOTS at that, he had toyed and experimented with layering of course, what big baby hadn't? but those were cheap store brand diapers and he wanted to make these last.

Thinking about it for a second, wally held up three fingers.

"ok, can do.. Hmm.. Should of gotten your robe off first." Dick said.

Wanting to speed this along and get his butt back in diapers wally took matters into his own hands, thumb out of mouth and eyes open as he quickly shed the robe and tossed it down the hall like it was on fire and then was back on the floor, shivering a little from the cold, and a whole lot from excitement.

"heh, well that takes care of THAT I suppose." Dick laughed and tickled Wally's tummy as the speedster went back to slobbering on his thumb, but kept his eyes open this time.

Dick made a show of it, Unfolding each of the bulky baby print diapers and teasing wally almost with them and making the little reach out with his free hand, all I want.

he was almost making Wally's little guy stick up to a full 6 inches.

"Well, if I had ANY doubt you didn't want this before." Dick chuckled then added "Butt up wall man."

Wally listened to daddy and lifted his hips, all three diaper had been layered on top of each other and it felt like he was resting his butt on a pillow as his tushie came back down, his stiffly twitching wildly and Wally blushed, he was gonna cream hands free any second now.

"Guess I better stop teasing and hurry up before you shoot and coat yourself and have to go for a bath." Dick chuckled, quickly sprinkling LOTS of baby powder on Wally's privates and BARLEY getting the inner most diaper taped up before wally started to jerk his hips up and down, crying out around his thumb as load after load of 'baby milk' shot out into the diaper, Dick watching the show and though his orgasmic haze Wally could see Dick was getting excited as well.

Dick had to admit, while he'd of never thought of being a daddy dom before, he was finding it super fun and hot as fuck. watching wally cream that hard just from his huggies had Dick wanting to replace that thumb with a certain put of himself in Wally's mouth, but this was all about the baby and there would be time for that later.

Waiting for the hip's to stop jerking Dick moved a hand down and even though the thickness of the diaper could feel how hard his boyfriend turned baby boy was spurting and leaned down, smooching the big babies cheek and setting off anther wave of orgasmic bliss for the little guy.

Once wally was done, Dick smiled and rubbed Wally's tummy.

"have fun?" Dick asked and wally nodded. "Do you still wanna go on with the rest of the diapers or do you need a bit of big boy time after you cream?"

He wasn't being mean, he'd be happy to keep babying little wally but also didn't wanna force this on him anymore then he already had with the telling Barry and iris and Bruce.

wally pulled his thumb out, and there was a line of drool with it that Dick somehow found just even cuter and he gushed in a babyish voice.

"me wanna wear diapies ALL day dada." Wally coo'ed.

Dick's cock almost shot then and there and he was positive it was only his training in self control under Bruce and other martial art master that kept him from shooting though his undies and coating wally.

'maybe I'm gonna need a diaper too at this rate.' dick mused to himself then out loud. "Ok little guy!"

triple diapered and feeling all so small in the most wonderful way, Wally had turned into a little cuddle bug and kept nuzzling into Dick whenever he wasn't opening a present or waiting for Dick to get him one.

His present from Barry and iris was a large teddy bear, with a kid flash outfit on and by larger it was almost as big as his upper body and he gave it LOTS of hugs and named it Teddy flash right then and there.

His present from Bruce was confusing, as it was a book about how to stop bed wetting and he held it up for Dick to see with a eyebrow raised.

"Yeahhh..Bruce didn't really get what I was trying to tell him and just settled on thinking you were a bed wetter so I ran with it." Dick explained sheepishly.

"heh, Ok. Guess that means no wearing to grandpa's house huh?" Wally giggled.

"Ha! yeah, don't think that'll work out..though Alfred semi knows hence the fairy tales and well, Tim's got a lot of quirks like you so think he'd just get jealous." Dick chuckled.

Wally giggled LOTS at that and then it was time for his gifts from Dick, which included two type of paci's (one with a naughty nipple and one with a normal) A set of Lego blocks but the big ones meant for babies, a rattle, a few more stuffies (A anther bear, a owl, a rabbit) and a diaper shirt that was main yellow with the flash logo on the front and on the back went 'Faster pooper alive!' in red lightning text.

He also got a teddy bear themed shirt and shorts outfit, a couple of toddler show DVDS and of course his FAVORITE onesie, the one he insisted on right away, was a red one with green trim and a picture of mistletoe on the small of the back, just above the butt and text about it saying "Kiss under the mistletoe"

Getting the onesie on the little guy wasn't easy, Dick would have to see if Iris could let it out some or something or just cut back on the diapers when Wally wanted to read it.

But as the protege of the god damn batman wasn't one to give up quick and with a lot of effort and grunting he got the crotch snaps done up, though he had to make use of some spirit gun like he used to keep his mask on to do it.

unsurprisingly Wally wasted little time as soon as it was on, rolling over and getting on his hands and knees and offering his massive padded rear up and looking over his shoulder.

"Welllll Daddy? Aren't you gonna kiss me 'under the mistletoe'?" he asked, breaking into a fit of giggled.

"I suppose I better do it now before you go uh-oh." Dick countered and too lots of hoots and giggles, Leaned in and planted a big old smooch on Wally's diapered butt.

"Hehehehehe I might be a BIG baby..But your a BUTT kisser!" Wally giggled like mad.

Seeing how excited wally was Dick made a mental note NOT to let him have sugar while he was in little mode.

"Soooo what do we do noooooow?" Wally asked, plopping back on his butt, leg's spread.

"well I'm gonna go make use breakfast while YOU have a very, very important mission." Dick said, grabbing the first DVD he came across and noting the title then opening it.

"Ohhh?" Wally asked, tilting his head and getting the normal paci clipped to his onesie.

"Yup! You need to start watched Paw patrol so you can explain it all to daddy when he goes to watch it with you later. think you can handle that?" Dick asked.

Wally smirked and then put on a fake look of concern.

"it'll be tough.. but I MIGHT be able to handle it if I have my super science blocks to put together while I study the Intel sir!" Wally giggled.

"heh.. well of course!" Dick said, going and getting the dvd in the machine and turning on the tv, and hearing a weird scuffing noise turned around and grinned ear you ear.

Wall had the container of blocks in one arm, and was rocking his hips and using the other arm to guide him as he scooted across the floor on his butt!

'Just how did it take me finding diapers not to see what a little guy he is, and just how the hell does he manage to adult at all?' Dick wondered.

With the blocks dumped out (after Dick got them opened since there was plastic to cut and Wally was too little to have a knife of course) Wally set to work while sucking on his paci to make a semi mock computer, while Dick cued up the menu and had episode 1 ready to go, he was just waiting on 'agent baby' to give the thumbs up he was ready.

give the thumbs up wally could feel a familiar pressure building up rapidly in his bowels and thought about letting Dick know he had to go poopie, and ask to use the potty, he'd never actually crapped himself before.

'nggggh.. nah. he said I hafa think like a baby and babies dun get to pick when and what they use their diapers for.' Wally thought and leaned forward as Dick passed him by, deciding to give his boyfriend a slight warning of what was coming by giving out a poot.

Instead, the 3 days of backed up poopie in his tummy (his eating habit's sometimes could back him up for days as food struggled to get though) took the opening and a soft 'eek!' escaped from his lips and a massive amount of poopie forced it's way out into his diapers, bulking them out even more but because of the spirit gum the onesie couldn't just pop open which meant once the back of the diaper was full, it only had one place to go.. the front.

Hands on the floor and on his knee's wally suckled hard on his paci as his poopies coated the front of his diapies, making him make tinkles and milk again and as the massive load came to a stop three or four minutes later, he opened his eyes and saw Dick smiling, having watched the whole thing.

"So glad you made room for din din. I'll change you after we eat." he said and then gently and firmly pushed wally onto his squishy and smelly seat and made the big baby make anther load of baby milk.

Unsurprisingly, he wasn't able to tell daddy much about paw patrol.

The end

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thefinalcinderella · 4 years ago

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Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 4 - The Track Meet (Part 4)

Merry Christmas guys

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. Not really a translation note but King calls Kakeru a “hentai” as in pervert here

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At the second TSU meet at the end of June, Prince finally got a time of 16:58:14. All of the members of Chikusei-sou had at last earned the right to participate in the Hakone Ekiden qualifiers.

After the race was over, the residents joined hands in a corner of the field and rejoiced. They danced in a circle with their hands still joined as their happiness intensified. They continued to turn around in their ring formation, which looked like a ceremony to summon a UFO, until a totally exhausted Prince sank down to the ground.

Kakeru didn’t join the circle, instead watching the residents from a short distance away. He did feel happy and relieved that they were able to participate in the qualifiers now, but he thought that it was too early to be that happy.

Seeing the excited members of Chikusei-sou, the runners from other universities started murmuring to each other.

“I heard that they can join the qualifiers now. That’s pretty good.”

“But there’s no way they’re going to pass the qualifiers, no matter how you look at it.”

“Well, it’ll be a nice memory, so isn’t it fine?”

They talked among themselves, laughing slightly. Kakeru could keenly sense the various implications in those laughs.

Spotting Kakeru standing a short distance away from the circle, TSU’s Sakaki approached him.

“I heard you guys are aiming for Hakone. Make sure not to embarrass yourselves at the qualifiers.”

Kakeru glared at him. He was frustrated, but couldn’t say anything back.

“Kakeru.”

Kiyose waved him over, and he left Sakaki to walk over to the circle.

“You all did a great job,” Kiyose said, showing his appreciation simply. “We’re a step closer to Hakone. From now on, we’ll train to increase our distances. But first, we’ll have a grand party tonight; after our evening jog, gather in the twins’ room.”

“Woohoo!” the twins cheered. Kakeru hid cool feelings beneath his smile. We have parties all the time, don’t we?

He called to mind each member’s best official records at this point in time.

Kakeru 14:09:95

Haiji 14:20:24

Musa 14:49:46

Jouji 15:03:08

Jouta 15:04:58

Yuki 15:36:45

Shindou 15:39:23

Nico-chan 15:59:49

King 16:03:83

Prince 16:58:14

They were now able to participate in the qualifiers, but rather than being set free from his impatience, Kakeru’s mind was becoming increasingly filled with frustration. That was why the alcohol didn’t taste good at all even during the party in the twins’ room. Unable to join in with the rowdy atmosphere, Kakeru sat by the window.

Kiyose’s home cooking was almost entirely eaten up, and after taking a rest, the residents all began to praise Prince.

“I was afraid of what might happen, but Prince pulled through,” King said.

“Today’s last spurt was amazing. You made it to the finish line in just under seventeen minutes,” Shindou said.

“Yes. Prince’s gallant figure brought a few tears to my eyes,” Musa said.

As a reward for Prince, the twins presented him with the weekly manga magazine that had gone on sale early, which they had gone to buy from the shopping district. He immediately put aside his drink and started reading it at rapid speed. Nico-chan and Yuki laughed as they watched him.

Irritated, Kakeru muttered, “Is it that great?”

Startle gazes gathered and fell on Kakeru. Unable to stop now, he spoke again.

“Prince-san’s time is not something to be proud of.”

“Well, yeah, that’s true,” Prince agreed, nodding without lifting his eyes from his magazine.

“What do you mean by that, Kakeru?” Jouta stormed, turning on him. Even Jouji, who was always cheerful, protested with a forceful tone.

“Prince-san shortened his time a lot in three months, you know? If he keeps going at this rate, he’ll be able to run five-thousand meters in an instant by the time the qualifiers come around!”

“I highly doubt that,” Yuki quipped. Kakeru ignored him and turned to Prince again.

“Do you understand, Prince-san? This is no time to be reading manga.”

“Not at all.” Prince paid him no mind, but the twins stood up angrily.

“Stop it, Kakeru! You’ve been weird lately. It’s kinda scary.”

“He’s right. Quit blaming Prince-san. If you have something to say, say it to all of us!”

“I will!” Kakeru put down his cup and stood up, too. “We’ll never make it to Hakone if you guys keep running at a snail’s pace like this! Never! So I have no idea how you guys can drink so carefreely!”

“Kakeru, Kakeru. You’ve been drinking a lot too, haven’t you?” Shindou frantically gripped Kakeru’s ankle. “You’re drunk. Right? Just sit down.”

Musa tried to calm the twins as he held them back under his arms. However, the three first-years of Chikusei-sou shook off their seniors’ restraints and started grappling with each other.

“Don’t talk so high and mighty just ‘cause you can run a bit faster!”

“You told me to talk, so I did!”

“There’s things you can and can’t say, you know! Not everyone can run as easily as you!”

“You can say those kinds of things after you practice more! But it might be pointless no matter how much you practice!”

“That’s too far, Kakeru.” Nico-chan tried to sit up.

“Don’t get too full of yourself, you asshole!” King tried springing at Kakeru faster than the twins, but he didn’t make it.

Kiyose, who had been quiet until that point, ran up to Kakeru with a leopard-like agility and ferocity and grabbed him by the collar. “You idiot!” he yelled. “Wake the hell up! Why won’t you acknowledge that Prince and everyone else are trying their best! Why are you denying their sincere running! Is it because their times are slower than yours? Is speed the only thing you value? If that’s the case, then there’s no point in running. Ride the train! Take an airplane! Those are faster!”

“Haiji-san…”

Not just Kakeru, but everyone in the room was shocked still by Kiyose’s furious look.

“Know this, Kakeru. You can’t only pursue speed; that’s empty and pointless. You can figure that out by looking at me, right? It’ll be too much someday…”

Kiyose’s words were suddenly cut off. He staggered as the strength went out of his hands, which had been grabbing Kakeru’s shirt.

“Haiji-san!” Kakeru panicked, supporting Kiyose’s body. “Haiji-san, what’s wrong!”

Kiyose was pale, his eyes closing languidly.

“Hey, Haiji-san! Stay with me!”

He didn’t react even when Kakeru slapped his cheek.

“What do I do, he’s not conscious!”

“What!”

The room fell into panic. Yuki immediately took Kiyose’s wrist and checked his pulse.

“Twins, lay out a futon! Someone call an ambulance. Actually no, it’s faster to call a doctor. Tell the landlord to ask for a house call right away!”

Jouta and Jouji took out a futon from the closet, sobbing, “Haiji-san, don’t die!”

Shindou and Musa leaned out of the window and shouted towards the main house, “Sir, we need your help!”

A flustered Prince went down to the first floor to get water, and King, disconcerted, just wandered around aimlessly.

Kakeru, along with Nico-chan, laid Kiyose down on the futon. Even though Yuki told him not to worry so much, Kakeru refused to leave his bedside. Until the neighborhood family physician the landlord called arrived, Kakeru stayed next to Kiyose, his head hanging down.

Consultation hours had finished long ago, but the old physician was an acquaintance and immediately came running. The doctor pushed his way through the residents gathered around the futon and approached Kiyose. He checked under his eyelids, pressed a stethoscope against him, and checked for the presence of heat in his palms. Finally, he looked around at everyone and spoke a single word: “Overwork.”

“He seems to have anemia, but right now he’s more asleep than unconscious.”

“He’s…sleeping?”

The residents shifted their gazes from the doctor to Kiyose all at once. Certainly, Kiyose’s chest was peacefully rising and falling with regular breathing. It was good that he wasn’t seriously ill, but they felt drained, wondering why there was so much fuss over calling a doctor.

“I’d say he’s been accumulating fatigue from lack of sleep.” The doctor searched through his black bag and quickly prepared a syringe. “I’ll give him an injection with some nutrients. Let him rest tonight. If anything happens, you can call me again. Now, take care. Don’t let him work too hard.”

“Thank you very much.”

All of them said their thanks, and Yuki and Shindou accompanied the doctor to the front door. Kiyose had continued to sleep, even as he was being pricked with a needle, and the twins put the blanket over him again.

“It’s my fault. I made Haiji-san worry…”

Kakeru hung his head, watching Kiyose’s sleeping face. He felt frustrated and pathetic. Even Rokudou’s Fujioka had perceived that Kiyose was not in good shape, but Kakeru hadn’t noticed anything; he was so focused on running that he couldn’t even see the people he was living together with.

Prince, who was sitting across from him on the futon, weakly shook his head. “That’s not true. It’s my fault that I can’t run fast.”

Like the forest animals after learning of the Buddha’s death, Kakeru and the others solemnly gathered around the futon. Yuki and Shindou, who had returned from seeing off the doctor, recoiled at the wake-like atmosphere before they sat down on the tatami.

“If you think about it, we have been leaving everything up to Haiji-san,” Musa said.

“Yeah.” King crossed his arms. “Haiji was doing the administrative stuff like applying to meets and even cooking all the meals.”

“He worked like a coach-slash-manager-slash-dorm parent,” Jouta said.

“It’s partly because we’ve been so busy training and training, but we’ve been putting too much pressure on Haiji-san.” Shindou seemed to be chewing on bitter thoughts.

Jouji made a proposition with a purposely bright tone. “From now on, let’s at least take turns cooking. Let’s all work together.”

Sounds of agreement rose up here and there.

“If that’s the case, let’s make up,” Nico-chan said as he looked between Kakeru and Prince.

“Yes.” They both nodded, Prince readily and Kakeru timidly, embarrassed by his childish attitude.

“The twins should forgive Kakeru too,” Yuki said, and Jouji and Jouta glanced at Kakeru embarrassedly.

“Of course,” they said in unison.

“Come on, let’s all get along.” Nico-chan took the lead. “Don’t let Haiji’s dying wish go to waste. Let’s go to Hakone as one.”

“Yeah!”

The residents of Chikusei-sou gripped each other’s hands tightly over the futon where Kiyose was sleeping.

“I don’t remember being dead. I hope I’m not.”

Surprised, Kakeru looked at the pillow. Kiyose’s eyes were opening.

“Good grief, what’s all this?” He moved the residents’ arms that were complicatedly tangled over his stomach out of the way and tried to sit up.

“Please sleep!” Kakeru hurriedly pushed Kiyose’s shoulders and made him lie back down on the futon. “Haiji-san, you collapsed. The doctor said you got anemic from overwork.”

“I see. Sorry I caused trouble.” Kiyose looked up at Kakeru’s face, who was peering down at him. “But it looks like the fight is over—that’s good to see.”

Kakeru shifted to intentionally sit in seiza. “I’m sorry,” he said with his head bowed. “I’ve been so on edge and impatient for a long time.”

“Was it because the music coming from Yuki’s room is too loud?” Nico-chan said, a sympathetic look in his eyes that said, “I feel you.”

“If you ask me, it’s the creaking in the ceiling.”

Yuki’s words scared Prince, who felt guilty.

“No, that’s not it,” Kakeru hurriedly said. “I’ve felt that way since before I came to Aotake. I was just running and didn’t see much of what was around me.”

He still didn’t actually know what he should do; Kakeru still hadn’t figured out what he should be running for, other than speed. “But,” Kakeru started, lifting his face up. “From now on, I will also aim for the Hakone Ekiden seriously.”

“What!?”

The twins’ room shook with astonishment.

“’From now on?’ What were you doing until now?” Jouji looked like he was about to jump down his throat.

“No, I just thought I would play along with it somehow,” Kakeru said honestly. “I thought everyone would get bored and quit soon anyways. I’m sorry.”

“You can train that much, even though your motivation was so low.” Shindou was deeply impressed.

“I’m not good at anything other than running, after all,” Kakeru said seriously.

Yuki shook his head with a “Good grief,” and a stunned King said, “You really are a weirdo, Kakeru.” (1)

“You’re incredible, Kakeru. You’re so incredible it’s funny.” Jouji stifled his laughter. A bit angrily, Kakeru wondered what was so funny, but then he saw that even Kiyose was nodding and decided not to object.

“I can’t stop reading manga, but I’ll work even harder too,” Prince declared, raising his face.

It wasn’t that there weren’t any ill feelings, but it was the first time that the desire to aim for the same thing had budded equally in all their hearts.

Kiyose, who was watching the scene, called out, “Kakeru.” Still in seiza, Kakeru shifted a bit closer to Kiyose, whose head was resting on the pillow.

“Do you know what’s the best compliment for a long-distance runner?”

“Is it ‘fast’?”

“Nope. It’s ‘strong,’” Kiyose said. “It’s not enough to be fast to finish a long-distance race. The weather, the course, the development of the race, your physical condition, your own state of mind... Runners calmly analyze those various factors and persist in moving their body forward even in difficult situations. What long-distance runners need is strength in the true sense of the word. We run everyday for the honor of being called ‘strong.’”

Kakeru, as well as the other residents, listened intently to what Kiyose was saying.

“As I watched you run these three months, I became more and more convinced,” Kiyose continued. “You have talent and aptitude. That’s why, Kakeru, believe in yourself more. There’s no need to be impatient—it takes time to become strong. You could say that there is no end; just as there are people who jog and do marathons even into old age, long-distance is a sport that is worth tackling for life.”

Kakeru’s passion towards running had always been an ambiguous emotion, making his mind waver unsteadily. But Kiyose’s words skillfully cut through Kakeru’s murky and wavering inner world; they were a light that flashed into his heart and flooded it, illuminating him.

However, Kakeru rebutted, partly due to embarrassment. “But the elderly can’t set new world records.”

“That came out of nowhere,” Nico-chan teased. Kiyose smiled, as if to say there was no helping it.

“I thought that way too. Until I got injured,” Kiyose said gently. “But it’s the older runners who are more likely to be ‘stronger’ than you, Kakeru. That’s what’s profound about long-distance.”

Kiyose’s words were aimed not just at Kakeru, but at everyone present. Perhaps tired, he stopped talking and lowered his eyelids.

“Haiji-san, you can’t sleep here!” Jouji and Jouta shook Kiyose.

“Shut up. You’re dismissed,” Kiyose mumbled.

Everyone quietly took their leave of the twins’ room.

Kakeru was the last to go into the hallway. As he closed the door, he turned around and saw the twins squeezing into another futon from the closet.

What is that strong running Haiji-san talked about? Kakeru was pondering it. He knew it wasn’t about arm strength or leg strength. But, it didn’t seem like he was referring to just mental strength, either.

Kakeru suddenly recalled the snow-covered field he had seen when he was little. When he had got up early and gone to the field in his neighborhood, the snow that had accumulated during the night had completely changed the familiar landscape. Kakeru had run on the white field where no one had left any footprints. He had run as his heart desired in order to draw beautiful patterns. That was his very first memory of thinking that running was fun.

Maybe strength was something beautiful built upon a delicate balance—like the patterns he had drawn in the snow back then.

While thinking that, Kakeru quietly went down the stairs, careful not to make too much noise.

The next day, the skies were clear for the first time in a long while. When Kakeru returned after his early morning jog, Kiyose was feeding Nira in Chikusei-sou’s yard.

“Welcome home,” Kiyose said when he saw him.

“I’m back,” Kakeru responded.

The morning light was shining clearly. It was the beginning of a usual, new day.

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#Kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo #kazetsuyo translations #run with the wind

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bechloeislegit · 4 years ago

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I’m Back!

Hello, Readers and Writers! As you know, I've been absent for a while because I had a stroke in early June. I wanted to share a bit (maybe more than you really wanted to know. I'm going to start from the beginning, so, please, bear with me.

It was about 1:00 a.m. on the morning of Tuesday, June 9, 2020, when Mother Nature woke me by knocking on my bladder. I stumbled out of bed and went toward the bathroom, which was directly across the hall from my bedroom. I bumped my shoulder on the doorframe as I exited my bedroom. (I should have realized then, something was off).

I took care of my business and went to stand, but instead found myself falling over. I landed in the space between the commode and the bathroom counter. I was lucky that I did not hit my head; I landed on my left side with my arm pinned under me.

I tried to get up but was unable to; I tried to roll over but, again, was unable to. I laid there trying to find something I could throw against the wall or door to get my son's attention, but nothing was handy. Plus, I'm not sure I could have thrown it anyway.

I may have fallen asleep or passed out, I can't be sure. It was almost 4:30 a.m. when I heard my son come out of his room and I called out to him for help. I had been lying on the floor for over three hours.

My son heard me call out to him and opened the bathroom door (I hurriedly told him to do it slowly since my legs were close to the door and I couldn't move them). He came in and saw me lying there and asked if he needed to call 9-1-1. I said no, and asked if he could help me sit up.

At this point, I had no idea what had actually happened. He got me into a sitting position and I immediately fell back over. He grabbed me and kept me from landing on the floor again. I told him to gently lay me back on the floor and call 9-1-1.

He called and they asked him several questions; it was at this point that we both realized that I had a stroke.

The EMTs arrived and got me on the "chair" to take me down to the ambulance (we lived in an apartment on the third floor). I realized as they took me down the stairs that I could not move my left arm or leg. The ambulance took me to the nearest hospital which was about a 10-minute ride.

At the hospital, they verified that I did have a stroke. I was then sent to another hospital, which was better equipped to handle a stroke patient (my health insurance told them where I should go). I knew what was happening, but was kind of out of it at the same time.

While in the hospital, I was put on medication. It made me feel weird and I had some, what I can only call hallucinations. It was like what was happening in my head (hallucinations?), was not what was actually happening around me (reality). I asked why I had to take the medicine, but could not get anyone to tell me. At least that's what I thought was happening, so I refused to take the medicine.

My head and thinking became clearer and I was told the medicine was for high blood pressure (which I never had before). I told the nurse it made me feel weird and they gave me a lower dosage and I resumed taking the medicine.

I spent 15 days in the hospital and was discharged on June 24 and was immediately taken to a rehab facility. I had very little movement on my left side (I could give a wobbly thumbs up but that was about it). I was sent to a Rehabilitation Facility, where I spent a full month. I was first told that I was going to need 24/7 care and did I have someone who would be around to assist me IF I was sent home. They told me I had to make a decision on whether I was going to go to a long-term care facility or find someone who could take care of me at home such as a nurse or family member. The only person I had was my 23-year-old son, and I was not going to do that to him. I was ready to give up and had resigned myself to spending the rest of my life in some type of long-term care facility. That's when I found my inner Wonder Woman and said, "You don't know me. And I'll show you that if you think I can't do something, I'm going to do it just to show you I can." So, I picked up my positive attitude and wore it like a badge of honor. And I let them know I was going to walk out of that facility and go home to my son.

The hardest part was that no visitors were allowed in the facility and I missed my son and friends like crazy. I was lucky to have a large bay-type window in my room and my aunt, and best friends would bring my son, and they would all come to visit me (with a window separating us). I wasn't a Covid19 patient, but I got a small taste of what they were going through with not being able to visit or see my family or friends.

At the beginning of my rehab stay, the therapists were concerned about my safety if I went back to my third-floor apartment. I called my rental office and explained my situation to the Manager and asked if there were any first-floor apartments available. My aunt spoke with the Manager as well and by the time I left the rehab facility, my son had packed up our stuff, we had movers scheduled, and on July 24, I went home to a different apartment located on the first floor.

Once home, I had a physical therapist, occupational therapist, and visiting nurse come to me to provide more therapy. I worked hard and went from using a wheelchair to a walker, and I'm proud to say I'm walking with a cane now. Next, I will (hopefully) be walking with no assistance at all. Not totally there yet, and I'm using the walker whenever I leave my apartment. The good thing is I can drive, which is very liberating. I can use my left hand to some extent, and have been able to type better; not as well as I used to, but I can type which means I can write stories.

After being tested, I was told that I had no cognitive deficiencies. I do sometimes slur my words when I'm really tired or excited. I also tire very easily, but I'm still here, and I thank God for every day He allows me to wake up and face a new day.

I appreciate all the check-ins and love everyone has shown and sent to me. I can't say thank you enough to my Aunt and best friends, for making sure my son was okay during the time I was hospitalized, and for putting together a nice drive-by birthday surprise for me at the rehab facility.

I also want to thank all you readers/writers who checked up on me; and thank you to everyone for the good wishes and prayers. They've meant the world to me.

I was going to jump back into writing by posting for BeChloe Week 2020; but, my body didn't cooperate, so I'm doing Pitch Perfect Horror Week 2020 as my first project after taking a break.

Hugs and much love!

~ BeChloeIsLegit

#Still healing #Glad to be back

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thebibliomancer · 3 years ago

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Tides of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 15

Tides of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because we’re halfway through, whoa-oh I can’t think of a rhyme but we’re in a desert now.

Last times on book: Amri and co are on a quest to unite all the Gelfling clans against the Skeksis. They’ve managed to convince Maudra Ethri of the Sifa to not sail off into the sunset and join the cause. And now they’ve reluctantly hired known thief and smarmy guy Periss of the Dousan to take them on his sand skiff to the Crystal Desert where Maudra Seethi is.

Chapter 15

A storm in the desert, a teeming of Crystal Skimmers, a peril, and some Tavra/Onica content.

Team Naia plus Periss sand sails all day and continues sand sailing when night falls. But people need to sleep so they’ll just leave someone on watch.

Kylan volunteers Amri for first watch. Amri is like ‘hey, rude’ before realizing that Kylan was subtly letting him stay up at night without making a big deal of it in front of the others. And then he’s warmed by this kindness.

Aw, frens.

Some hours later, Naia joins Amri up on the deck because she had a weird, bad dream. She was in the Sog but she was Gurjin. And a message came for Momdra Laesid who reacted in horror to whatever it was. And then Naia woke up.

Amri suggests it could be an omen but Onica is sleeping.

“I’ll ask her when she wakes... You should rest, too, nightbird.”

Amri stood and yawned. Then he added, “Birds die in caves.”

“Nightworm, then.”

“They’re called nurlocs.”

“Go on!”

Hah! Frens!

I love that they’re the kind of friends who bust each others chops.

So Amri goes below deck and I’m confronted with the idea that this sand skiff has a below deck. How big is this thing? I was picturing...... Moana’s boat. But on sand.

Periss’ ship doesn’t just have a lower deck, it has hammocks. Multiple hammocks. Multiple hammocks with multiple hammocks still vacant. At minimum that’s... lessee Kylan, Onica, Periss all sleeping.... There’s a minimum of five but I don’t know if it would be uneven so there’s probably at least six hammocks!

This is a big, small ship and Periss was scooting around all alone in it.

Anyway, Amri gets into a hammock and passes out almost immediately.

He’s woken up in a hurry by Kylan (although its now daytime so he must have been asleep some hours) because there’s a storm and Crystal Skimmers because it doesn’t rain in the desert but when it rains it pours.

Also, they’re in the basin now so its just endless sand in all directions.

To their right, the sky ended in a cloud of gray dust crackling with lightning rolled like a monster with fire in its teeth. It boiled, unleashed and unconstrained like a whirlpool, in the wide desert.

Also, Crystal Skimmers. Darkened ones.

Geez, I feel like we haven’t deal with the darkening in a while. It barely come up, if at all, during the Sifa stuff. Because of ocean, I guess? I mean, if the darkening works by seeing some darkened crystal veins all that open ocean means that only the deep sea creatures are gonna get darkened and they’re probably bonkers already.

Anyway.

The approaching sand clouds teemed with horrific golden creatures. Their diamond-shaped bodies were bigger than the skiff, the size of the three-masted Sifa ships, with rough, ragged manes and long barbed tails. The creatures crashed out of the sands turned up b the storm to the left and the right and all around them, snapping with enormous gaping mouths.

If you remember the giant flying manta rays that the Dousan use to travel, then its those guys.

They seem huge so I wouldn’t want to deal with a rabid one of them, let alone a teeming of them.

Seasoned desert traveler Periss also decides that the storm isn’t natural either. He would have been able to navigate around it except for the Crystal Skimmers ambushing them.

One of the Crystal Skimmers side swipes the skiff’s starboard float and then gets tangled up in the ropes and starts dragging the boat around.

Periss recognizes this Crystal Skimmer as Hanja, who has the remains of a Dousan harness on its back. He begs Hanja to calm herself but Onica says that she can’t be reached since she’s seen the darkness. And that they’ll need to cut free or get dragged to death.

Seasoned boat traveler Onica takes charge. She and Periss go out to cut the ropes at the bow and stern where the Skimmer harness tangled.

They succeed in cutting the lines but before Amri can pull Onica back into the boat

Just as the starboard float glanced off the racing sand below, another Skimmer burst from below them. Amri felt Onica’s fingernails rip against his palm as the Skimmer snagged her in its enormous mouth, tearing her from his grasp.

ONICA NOOOO!

You’re too delightful to die! We barely know ye!

Okay okay okay Crystal Skimmers don’t have teeth so she’s not getting chewed but its got her good and it doesn’t feel the pain as she stabs it in the lips with her knife because its so maddened by the darkness.

And it keeps diving into the sand with Onica in its mouth which as far as experiences go I imagine is like being in a tumble drier full of sandpaper.

Periss follows the Crystal Skimmer but its flying too high and he says that Onica will have to fly down to them, winged girl Gelfing that she is.

“She can’t fly.”

The tiny, numb voice came from the folds of Amri’s cloak.

“What?”

“She lost her wings in a storm,” Tavra said. “She can’t fly.”

Oh no! Is that her Dark Backstory that we left the Sifa plot without learning? The thing that filled Ethri with much regret?

Naia decides she’ll fly up to the Skimmer and save Onica but her wings are so dried out from the desert that she probably can’t fly and if she did, her wings would probably be destroyed.

Geez, there’s a lot more to having wings than I had ever considered.

Amri decides he’ll do it instead.

But what of his no wings? Necessity is the mother of invention, probably. Amri pulls off two of those fins (that have already been noted to be roughly the size of Gelfling wings) and ties them to his back.

Buuuuut he doesn’t know how to fly. So Amri’s plan has a part 2. He tells Tavra to take over his body like she did before.

OH! That’s coming back up! And her being a spider is plot relevant in a lot of surprising ways this book.

“Amri, I didn’t do it on purpose before,” Tavra protested. “It was an accident! I don’t know how!”

“Well,” he growled, “you’re going to have to figure it out!”

He leaped and spread his arms.

The wind picked up like a hand, thrusting him into the sky. The gusts were like waves, coming from every direction, knocking him and twirling him higher and higher. He had no idea how to navigate, how to fall - how to fly. All he could do was try to keep his arms from breaking as the wind battered and beat him.

“You and Onica made a promise!”

“But I can’t --”

“Are you going to break your promise?”

Oof. Going for the hard-hitting emotional low blow, Amri? You can be mean when needs must, especially for the guy who wants to be the funny friend.

Can’t argue that it works because it works.

Amri is suddenly slam dunked into a dreamfast with Tavra for some important exposition dreamfasting.

A memory of a storm at sea with Onica’s ship broken to bits and her clinging to it as it breaks into smaller bits, holding Tae safe in her arms while the wreckage of the ship and the hail of the storm tear her wings to shreds.

Amri as Tavra fights her way through the storm, scoops up the two Sifa and flies them from the wreckage.

Promise me, someday we’ll sail away.

Tavra and Onica sat together on a misty shore, watching the tide bring in shards of crystalline ice. The seafarer’s lantern glowered nearby, dimly lighting the fog that surrounded them like a protective blanket. They were hidden there, by the silver mist. Or at least they could pretend they were, just for this moment.

To a place where no one can find us. Where there are no Sifa... no Vapra...

Their hands touched palm to palm, fingers weaving together.

Where it doesn’t matter. Where we can just be... one.

I’ve said before that I was 99% sure that Onica and Tavra were dating with all the saying it without actually saying it about their relationship. But, uh, I’m now 200% sure.

This is about as explicit as you can get without having one of them say girlfrens.

Anyway, the dreamfast ends and Amri finds that he’s flying. Or rather, Tavra is flying Amri. Like he’s a giant robot and she’s a plucky anime youth. Mobile Suit Amri.

Tavra is such a good flier even when flying with some juryrigged wings and she’s responding so intuitively to the winds that Amri briefly thinks that the storm had just quieted down since it seems less severe.

But when they reach the Crystal Skimmer, seeing Onica hanging limply in its mouth knocks Tavra out of sorts. The improvised wings get ripped off by the wind and Amri has to climb the Skimmer’s mane towards its mouth.

Now that the drift has ended, I’ll comment that the thing they did, Tavra piloting Amri to take advantage of all the physical skills she has. Its an interesting way to use the two of them. And its an interesting extension of Amri deciding to take up Tavra’s sword to take her role in the group despite having zero experience in swordery or fighting. But as an ultimate move, its probably unhealthy. Since Amri’s deal is that he feels useless and like he doesn’t contribute much to the group. If he starts thinking of himself as just a convenient meat puppet, that’s not great for his self-image.

Can’t deny that it got them 90% towards saving Onica but Amri has to do the last 10%.

The Skimmer dives into the sand - which we can now confirm from the POV character’s POV is an awful experience that crushes and scrapes and suffocates - but Amri manages to pull Onica free right when the creature dives towards the sand again.

He stood, tried desperately to find Periss’ skiff, but it was impossible. All he could see was gold and black, the storm and the din and the deafening howls of the Skimmers. He pulled Onica with him, trudging - any direction, it didn’t matter, he only wanted to be anywhere else. The sand burned his eyes, washed against his ankles, then his knees. He tried to listen, but its voices were too many. Millions of screaming sand-crystals, earth moving like water, singing in a tongue he couldn’t understand.

He turned as the ground shook. A Skimmer erupted under his feet, and Amri’s own scream was lost as the beast’s black maw swallowed them alive.

Geez, there’s just way too much getting eaten by giant beasts in this chapter.

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #Tides of the Dark Crystal #liveblog #Amri #Naia #Tavra #Onica #Kylan #Periss

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jeonggukingdom · 5 years ago

Text

splinters of love • day XVII [myg]

pairing ⟶ min yoongi x fem!Reader

summary ⟶ a collection of drabbles (one for each day of April) based on prompts by an online prompts’ generator site. Specifically ⟶ • day XVII ↳ in which Yoongi feels lonely and decides to text a random number in search of a friend and you are the one at the other end of the line.

genre ⟶ fluff, a little tiny bit of crack, a drop of angst

rating ⟶ G

word count ⟶ 1.832 words

warnings ⟶ there are mentions of depression the first part of this drabble so if it triggers you, avoid it please! The rest might give you cavities instead so be ware lol

series masterlist ⟶ here (links on mobile may not work, if you’re looking for all the works in this series, you can click on the “!splintersoflove” tag and you’ll find them all there!)

His eyes fix on the world outside his window, the silence of his apartment enveloping him whole.

It’s one of those nights when he feels heavy inside and so desperately alone it is almost hard to breathe.

The sky is black and littered with little shining stars and usually, the sight would soothe his aching heart, put him at peace enough for him to fall asleep like this.

Tonight, though, it feels different.

He yearns for the human touch, the words of affection or even more simply, some company.

But he has none of those because he chose this for himself. He cut ties with everyone in his life, he moved to a city far away from his own and then, he avoided making friends or falling in love, too afraid of his heart being shattered again if he did, just like it happened in the past.

Most of the times, Yoongi is pretty fine with this but there are nights much like this very own that he simply cannot rest, cannot function knowing how flat, lonely and simply sad his life is.

On nights like these, he wonders if he really made the right choice, if it really worked to keep his heart to himself and save it from other people. After all, isn’t his heart aching still?

His fingers quiver as he picks up his phone to seek refuge in the distraction of social media in whatever form available but even that feels suffocating tonight.

Everyone looks happy or in love or surrounded by friends or maybe it just does because he yearns for these things, so much so he cannot see through the cracks, through the lies reflected into pictures online that reflect only a fraction of the reality surrounding someone else’s life.

He heaves out a sigh, closes his eyes and then opens them again to fix them on his screen. He doesn’t know why he does it but, in an instant, he’s putting in a random string of numbers onto his phone and sending it the most basic and stupid text he has ever sent in his entire life.

[3:05 AM] Unknown: Hello

Your phone chimes and you grunt, twist under your covers and reluctantly open your eyes to see who would text you at this ungodly hour.

Your brows furrow at the unknown number displayed on the screen and you would normally toss your phone away and never think about the text ever again but, quite frankly, you are pissed.

This person, whoever that is, woke you up from your deep slumber for absolutely no reason. Oh, you are feral.

[3:05 AM] You: Do you have any idea what time it is???

Yoongi’s mouth opens as he stares at the screen. Not only he actually managed to input an existent number but the person behind the screen actually responded.

His heart is beating frantically in his chest, his breath turning laboured as he sits up on his bed, wets his lips and with trembling fingers, types down his response.

[3:06 AM] Unknown: Yes, fuck, sorry. I… I didn’t think someone would actually respond.

You look at your phone with your mouth agape. Is this person high or something?

You shake your head, close your eyes and try to get back to sleep but after a few minutes, you have to accept the fact that now, you are fully awake and this nuthead is to blame for it.

[3:15 AM] You: Who the hell are you? Do I know you?

Yoongi thought his luck had already run out when you didn’t respond in the next two minutes or so. He had let himself fall back on his bed, trained his eyes on the world outside and just sighed in defeat.

His heart almost jumps out of his chest as his phone chimes and even without looking, he knows it must be you because, pitifully enough, nobody else would text him and especially not at this ungodly hour.

Oh.

He bites his bottom lip, scratches the uncombed top of his head almost as if you were in front of him, scrutinizing him, judging him and his mop of mint hair.

[3:16 AM] Unknown: No, we don’t know each other… Honestly, I was feeling lonely and I tried to text a random number and I really didn’t think anyone would receive it let alone answer it…

You look at your phone, blinking a few times as if by doing that the words written there will change but, obviously, they don’t and before you know it you are laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Should you believe this stranger? Or is this some type of scam of some sort that you are simply too-sleep-deprived to see through? What if this is a stalker or something?

Against your better judgment, you text them back.

[3:19 AM] You: You are crazy.

Yoongi laughs at the text, nods his head a couple of times in agreement because honestly, who in their right mind texts a random stranger in the night seeking for company? Nobody.

Well, apparently, him.

[3:19 AM] You: Well, I don’t think I’m going to fall asleep anytime soon thanks to you so…What’s your name?

He blinks a few times, baffled by the fact that you are still playing along, giving him the attention he was yearning for so easily… he wonders if you are a teenager or something, naive and unaware of the dangerous world outside.

[3:20 AM] Unknown: Yoongi… yours?

[3:20 AM] You: ________.

[3:20 AM] You: Crap, should have used a fake name… are you a creep or something?

[3:21 AM] Yoongi: Would I tell you if I were, though? Lol

[3:21 AM] You: You may have a point, lonely stranger. Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to trust you… but just so you know I own a taser and I’m not afraid to use it.

Yoongi laughs at your words and he fails to notice how his heart grows bigger in his chest, how the smile is permanent on his lips as he is talking to you. He fails to notice how his body relaxes naturally the longer he text you like this, gets to know you a tad bit more.

This random stranger… You feel impossible to him, like a dream and that’s why he wants to keep this moment closer, cherish it while it lasts so that it can soothe his loneliness, placate his rattled mind even if it’s just for one night.

You talk and talk and it’s weird but natural at the same time and he barely notices how the sky switches from black to bright orange and later, into cerulean blue because the entire time, his eyes are fixed on the screen, on you.

[6:55 AM] You: Lonely boy, you have officially kept me awake the entire night… I’m gonna be a zombie at work thanks to you ç.ç

[6:55 AM] Yoongi: Oh, I didn’t notice it was so late already

[6:56 AM] Yoongi: I’m sorry? XD

[6:57 AM] You: What a sincere apology -.-”

[6:57 AM] Yoongi: I don’t have much else to offer, you know? Ahah

[6:58 AM] You: Well, shouldn’t you at least try to make it up to me???

[6:58 AM] Yoongi: Ok, how do you suggest I do that, exactly?

[6:59 AM] You: I don’t know, just figure it out, lol

Yoongi bites his bottom lip, his heart beating really fast in his chest while he feels absolutely euphoric, delirious even but also incredibly stupid because what is all of this?

What the hell is he even doing? Throwing outside the window all of his precautions as if they meant nothing before last night?

With the sun up in the sky rationality seeps back in, shakes him from the bubble he had been living in the entire night and just like that, he wavers.

[7:30 AM] You: Woah, you thinking that hard about it? I was half-kidding anyways, you know?

His silence feels weird. Which is odd because you’ve spoken for what, three hours and you already miss him? It feels absolutely nuts, just as much as last night does now as you get out of your pajamas and slip on your work clothes for another day at the office.

[7:45 AM] You: You passed out or something? Well, I gotta go to work… it was fun talking to you.

The hours pass and he doesn’t text you back. Not in two hours, not in four, not in six and you don’t even know why you care so damn much but a little tiny part of you wonders what might have scared him away when he was the one seeking the company in the first place.

You exhale loudly as you close the door behind your back, get yourself out of those damn heels and simply relax on your couch while sipping on a glass of red wine, your favourite.

Just then, your phone chimes.

[9:10 PM] Yoongi: Hey…

[9:10 PM] You: Ring the bells, he lives!

[9:10 PM] Yoongi: Sorry for disappearing… I… had a lot on my mind.

[9:11 PM] You: You don’t have to justify yourself with me, Yoongi-ssi. We don’t even know each other.

He grimaces at your words because stupidly enough, it feels like you do know each other. Hell, he is certain you know him more than anyone else in his life as of now does which is of course extremely sad but nonetheless the utter truth.

Your words sting but he knows they are somewhat true to you and that he deserves them.

He crashed into your life uninvited and then disappeared just as fast.

He had made up his mind that he was going to let all of this go early this morning but now, he wavers again and before he can stop himself, he does something he would have never imagined.

[9:13 PM] Yoongi: I’d love to change that, though. I know this might sound crazy and you’re free to say no of course but… I’d like to meet you. Like, in person.

A small smile stretches on your lips as you open the picture he sent you last night. He looked adorable under his white covers with his tangled hair, sleepy eyes and pouty lips and you had immediately tried to ignore the way your heart rate increased just a little bit while looking at his selfie.

You also tried to ignore how it started beating even faster when he called you cute when you sent one in return but now, as you look back at his photo, you can’t ignore any of those signs and before you can stop and think about what you’re doing, your fingers tap on the screen your response.

[9:15 PM] You: Thought you’d never ask, lonely boy.

#hyunglinenetwork #ficswithluv #bangtanscenery #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #bts fluff #bts angst #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts ff #bts imagine #bts react #bts scenario #!splintersoflove

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sugar-kisser · 5 years ago

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Park Seonghwa « What Ifs (RW)

original warnings: none word count: 1855

Summer has slowly come to an end, and autumn is just beginning. The cool breeze is what everyone was begging for, but were not expecting this early. But none the less, college students still trudge around campus preparing for their midterms that are in the coming weeks. Just about all the floors in every library is filled except for the oldest library on campus that is said to be abandon, but you and Seonghwa found it the perfect place to study because not many student’s actually step foot near the old building.

So behind several shelves and almost lodged into a secret corner of the library on the second floor, Seonghwa and you sit at one of the small rectangular tables. You currently have three different biology books opened to random pages and sitting in half a circle around you and your not very completed study guide. Seonghwa on the other hand has a stack of four textbooks sitting next to his large history textbook that’s opened to the back so he can right down all the laws he needs to memorize for his history exam in two days. Some times he wished he started on things like this sooner, but you know, college is basically procrastination. Like if you think high school is bad just you wait. Plus he had a life he wanted to live and he didn’t need to attend every single class, so he skipped a few, and just a few. You probably wouldn’t catch him with bad grades so when he found the time to ditch for a day trip somewhere, he did.

You on the other hand never missed a day of class. You were afraid you would fall behind easily considering you’re not the fastest learner and it takes twice as long for you to completely understand something than the average student. But that also makes you a perfectionist because you want to be able to explain it with your eyes closed or even in a different language if you need to. The big achiever that nobody really liked to be friends with in high school, but you cut all ties with your previous life. You needed that fresh start, and you’re happy you did because you met Seonghwa on the first day of college in a level 300 class you accidentally signed up for instead of the level 100, but he managed to help you through it and you ended with a B.

You deeply sigh which easily distracts Seonghwa who puts his pencil down to look at you.

“You okay?” He asks with a small little grin on his face that you want to wipe off.

“No,” you whine, “this midterm is going to be the reason I fail college.” Seonghwa pulls his lips together to not only hide his smile but the oncoming laugh from your dramatic statement. You then drop your head onto the table with a loud thud that could probably be heard from the other side of the library. Seonghwa reaches out to help you back up while sneakily laughing.

“Laugh all you want I don’t care,” you tell him. Your dramatic mood changed to a more depressed tone, and Seonghwa practically feels the life and energy drained from you. All in a matter of a second which quickly concerns him.

“You’re going to be just fine on this test. You have nothing to worry about,” Seonghwa tells you as he rest his hand on your upper back, slightly running his fingers up and down for comfort.

“But I also don’t have your test to copy off of,” you counter which makes Seonghwa bite the inner parts of his cheeks to reframe himself from continuing to laugh as your despair is a little more important at the minute.

“Just take a five minute break, relax, and then get back to doing the study guide,” Seonghwa suggests, “you’ll feel better.” You lift your head up from the table and Seonghwa retracts his arm. You sigh again and look over the mess of your half of the table is. In the corner of your eye you watch as Seonghwa continues about his time writing down his needed information from his history book. You lean over and rest your head against his arm, only causing him to stop writing.

“Y/N,” Seonghwa coos to you, “I need to write.” You whine and move your head back over to your own workspace. You rest your head on top of your hands and close your eyes. A few moments of just not doing anything could be good right? You promise yourself just to count to one hundred before getting back to your assignments. But you don’t quite reach thirty before passing out.

Your light snores don’t go past Seonghwa as he every once in a while glances over at you to make sure you’re okay and not drooling over the libraries textbooks. He’s glad you’re finally getting some sleep. He’ll notice your apartment lights still on when he returns from his late shift hours just about every other day. Lately he’s wondered if you’ve even been sleeping considering the bags under your eyes are black and purple. You do try to hide them with your make-up but Seonghwa knows your little tricks and you can’t fool him.

An hour and a half passes by and Seonghwa gets through most of all his work before deciding he wants to call it a night. He looks over you one last time deciding if he should wake you now or if he should let you sleep a little longer. You don’t quite look comfortable slouched over a table sleeping but you didn’t seem to mind it all that much. Seonghwa leans back in his chair and looks out the tall skinny ceiling to floor window. A smile blossoms on his face as a lightbulb blinks in his head.

Seonghwa packs his bag and collects his textbooks setting them on a cart for a student librarian to place them back. He sets his bag on the floor after grabbing his wallet and hurries out of the library and across the street to your guys’ favorite coffee shop.

You eventually find yourself waking up when you no longer feel any other body near you radiating off even the smallest amount of heat. You push your head off your textbook and run your hand through your hair. You look over and notice that Seonghwa’s side of the table is spotless clean. His bag isn’t even anywhere in your sight. Had he left you?

You flip your phone around and check the time when the screen turns on- 7:46 PM. You feel your heart sink a little further. Didn’t Seonghwa have another late shift tonight? It starts in about 15 minutes. What sits heaviest on you overall is the fact that Seonghwa didn’t even wake you. Usually he would if you fall asleep during one of your study sessions, so what makes tonight different?

With a shaky little sigh that breaks past your lips and small little droplets of water collecting at your waterline you push yourself up in your chair and look over your study guide and the textbooks in front of you. You at least need to complete the study guide tonight so you can study it for the next seven days straight to get the A you need on the test. You absentmindedly find answers to your study guide questions and write them down without retaining the actual information which will easily leave you lost later on when you come back to study it.

“Ah! You’re awake,” Seonghwa’s voice softly calls out. You whip your head to face the black haired boy approaching you, two large hot drinks in his hands.

“Seonghwa, I thought you left? Don’t you work tonight?” You ask, your voice rather quiet and hoarse.

“No, silly. I don’t work Thursday nights, remember?” Seonghwa lightly laughs, “besides why would I leave you alone in the library sleeping?” He sets the two cups down and that’s when he see’s the build up of water about to fall down your cheeks.

“Y/N,” Seonghwa’s face drops instantly and he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you into a hug. You arms wrap around his waist and the side of your face buries itself into his mid-torso. “I’m sorry I didn’t leave a note. I didn’t think I’d be gone long, nor did I think you were going to wake up until I got back.” Seonghwa let’s go of you before crouching down, his butt almost brushing the floor.

“How about I walk you back to your apartment and we watch a movie? You’re way to stressed to be working on this study guide,” Seonghwa suggests, but you shake your head and blink back your tears.

“I can’t,” you whisper afraid anything above that you’ll have a mental breakdown, “I need to finish this tonight. My test is next week.”

“Which means you still have plenty of time to finish it and study it all,” Seonghwa counters with a small smile, trying to convince you to take a break.

“What if I forget about it?”

“You won’t.”

“What if I don’t complete it?”

“You will.”

“What if I fail the test.”

“Y/N,” Seonghwa laughs in almost disbelief at all your excuses which only causes you to feel more guilt.

“You’re going to be just fine if we take the rest of the night off,” Seonghwa explains as he brushes your hair out of your face, “and when you pass your test next week after not forgetting to complete your study guide I’ll take you out.” You feel everything in the world stop. Did he?

“I won’t know my grades until after the short break,” you tell him which causes him to laugh.

“Y/N you’re going to pass this. So I’m going to take you out,” Seonghwa more-so tells you rather than suggests, “on a date.” You feel heat rise to your cheeks and you reach up to lightly brush your fingers against your pink cheeks.

“Come on cutie,” Seonghwa pats your head before standing all the way back up, “let’s head back to your apartment, watch a movie, and eat food because I am starving.” You break into a small smile which makes Seonghwa instantly feel better that he’s lighten your mood. You put your papers back into your bag and before you can grab your coat Seonghwa does and helps you put it on.

“Thanks,” you squeak before picking up your three textbooks. Seonghwa grabs his backpack and your two hot chocolates, and the two of you head towards the exit. You place your books on the return cart next to Seonghwa’s and take your hot beverage from his hands.

A cool breeze swipes right past the two of you as you head outside into the cold. You slightly shiver but that doesn’t stop Seonghwa from grabbing your hand and pulling it into his coat pocket along with his. You bite back a smile as the two of you head towards your apartment.

#ateez #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez drabbles #ateez scenarios #ateez park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa #college au #atiny #ateez x atiny #ateez x reader #kpop imagines

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whatdidimissjm · 4 years ago

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Jamilton Month Day 15 - Historical

When Thomas wakes up, he is alone in bed, like every morning. It shouldn´t surprise him. Alex never stays the night. They both know that it´s far too dangerous for them to be caught like this, but every time he falls asleep in Alexander´s arms, a tiny part of him hopes that he will still be there when he wakes up again.

Thomas thinks about just staying in bed, but after a few minutes of staring at the ceiling, and overthinking their relationship, he gets up. The thing is, whatever they are doing, it´s not a relationship, they have made that clear from the beginning. It´s just physical. It´s just sex. After over a year of Alexander spending more nights at Thomas´ house than at his own though, Thomas can´t ignore the feelings he has started to develop for his colleague anymore. He lets out a sigh, a familiar sadness taking hold of him once again.

He puts on his jacket and steps outside, wrapping the scarf tighter around his neck as he makes his way to work, hoping that walking there instead of taking a carriage will clear his head and heart of those unwanted emotions.

When he reaches his workplace half an hour later, his heart still feels heavy in his chest, but during the walk, a welcoming numbness has settles over him, which is only partly due to the cold outside. Thomas makes his way to his office, letting out another sigh when he sees how many letters have arrived for him to look over since he went home yesterday. He takes off his jacket and sits down, reaching for the first one. He spends the next few hours writing pointless responses, his thought preoccupied with a certain colleague of his. He had hoped that the work would help him shake off the numb heavy feeling in his heart, but he still feels far from himself.

It´s already noon, when a knock on Thomas´ office door disrupts his work, and he looks up as Alex comes in with a bright smile on his face, before locking the door. He forces himself to smile back, even has he feels something like dread growing in the pit of his stomach at the sight of his lover.

“Do you have a lot to do?”, Alex asks innocently, as he walks around the table.

He presses a kiss to the side of Thomas´ head, who closes his eyes at the touch, doing his best to ignore the longing for more. Alexander walks past him to the window, looking out at the street.

“I do.”, Thomas answers Alexander´s earlier question, even if it´s not true. The other man turns around, raising his eyebrows at him. “I do have a lot to do.”, Thomas clarifies and Alex nods.

“Alright, I´ll see you tonight, then?”, it´s phrased like a question, but they both know that it isn´t.

Thomas nods, not sure if he´d even be able to talk. Alex gives him another smile, one Thomas has never seen directed at anyone else than himself, and walks back over to Thomas. He cups his face, tilting it up so that he can kiss him more easily, connecting their lips. Thomas still feels his heart racing at it, and he tries to get lost in the kiss, like he always does, but his mind is still too loud and he doesn´t quite manage to do so. As soon as Alex pulls back, he misses the contact, but at the same time, he is glad that the other man isn´t touching him anymore.

“Until tonight then.”, Alexander says, taking another step back and towards the door.

All Thomas wants to do is call him back and either tell him to never talk to him again or scream at him that he loves him, and he doesn´t know which option would hurt more. In reality, he does neither of those things and just watches him go, his heart heavy and aching in his chest. Once the door closes behind Alex again, Thomas buries his face in his hands, taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

He knows that he should break this off, it´s torture, but at the same time, he can´t bring himself to actually tell Alexander to never come back, because that would be a different kind of torture. One, that would probably be far worse. Like this, Thomas can at least pretend sometimes that Alex actually cares about him. Thomas lets out another sigh, opening his eyes again, and does his best to concentrate on his work again.

The hours tick by both incredibly slow and at the same time at the speed of light, even though Thomas doesn´t know how that is even possible. When it´s getting dark outside, he starts gathering his papers, trying to be as slow as possible, before he makes his way downstairs and home.

Alex is supposed to join him in the next hour, so Thomas thinks about eating something, disregards the thought almost immediately though. He isn´t exactly nervous, but doesn´t think he could keep food down at the moment, so he decides to change into his evening gown and continue the book he is currently reading. His mind keeps traveling though and he finds it hard to concentrate, so when Alex comes into the bedroom, he has only managed to read three pages.

Thomas´ heart skips a beat when he sees Alex, but can´t help smiling back at him. His lover walks over to him and gently takes the book out of his hands, placing a kiss to his head, before setting the book down on the bedside table.

“How has your day been?”, Alex asks, and takes his hands, pulling him to the bed.

“Do you actually want to know or-?”, Thomas starts, but gets interrupted by a gasp, when Alex slips his hands underneath his shirt. They are still cold from outside and it causes shivers to run down his spine.

“Of course, I want to know.”, Alexander answers with a small laugh. “Why shouldn´t I?”

Thomas shrugs.

“It was… fine.”, he lies. “But I prefer this.”

He lets out a small moan as Alex sucks on the skin underneath his ear and tries to push him away, but Alex just wraps his arms tighter around Thomas´ waist.

“Hey, no marks, remember?”, Thomas breathes, but he actually couldn´t care less.

Alex just laughs again, playfully biting his neck one more time, before he moves to unbutton his shirt. As Alexander starts kissing down his chest, Thomas notices that he hasn´t even kissed him as a welcome, and it really shouldn´t hurt so much, but it does. He presses his eyes closed, when he feels Alex reaching his breeches, his hand falling onto Alexander´s head almost on its own accord. His heart feels heavy with longing for Alex to actually return his love, but this is all he will get and he tries to do his best to enjoy it, for as long as the other man will let him.

He feels Alexander kissing down his thigh and shudders, all thoughts leaving his head for the moment.

“You are always so responsive for me.”, he chuckles, and Thomas is about to protest, when Alex gives him a shove.

He loses his balance and falls back against the bed, letting out an involuntary yelp. Almost instantly, Alex is above him, pressing him down into the mattress, finally kissing him for real. Thomas practically melts in Alexander´s arms, almost feeling lightheaded as his lover slips his tongue into his mouth. When Alex pulls back again, it takes Thomas a moment to open his eyes, glancing up at his lover´s smug smile.

“You like that?”, he asks, as if he doesn´t know from past experiences that Thomas does indeed like that very much.

Instead of an answer, he just lets out a whine, which causes Alex to chuckle, but luckily, he leans down again to kiss him. He almost doesn´t notice Alexander´s hand traveling down his body, but doesn´t really pay any mind to it nonetheless, until he feels one of his fingers ghosting over his hole.

“Relax.”, Alex whispers, before kissing him again, and Thomas is almost embarrassed that he has to be told that over and over again.

He does his best to do as he´s told, biting his lip to keep himself from making any noises.

“You know I want to hear you.”, Alex whispers, spreading his fingers just as Thomas is about to respond, which causes him to let out a moan.

“Just like that, darling.”, Alex praises, repeating the motion again.

Soon Alex is removing his fingers again, replacing them with his cock. He presses his eyes close, as he feels Alex pushing in, trying to just enjoy the moment. He just can´t think about how he is nothing more than a nice little distraction for Alex.

As soon as Alex hits that one spot inside him though, it´s easy to just let his mind float, not thinking about anything except how good he feels and how pretty Alex sounds and looks. Once they have both came, his breathing gets slowly back to normal and reality start to sink in again. Alex is already out of bed to get a washcloth, even though Thomas would have preferred for him to stay a little longer next to him. He lets out a sigh and closes his eyes, only opening them, when he hears Alex coming back.

He is wearing one of Thomas´ shirt, which seems far too domestic and feels a bit like a slap in the face of what he can never have. He knows that it´s unrealistic, but sometimes he wishes that they could just be each other, without having to fear for their lives. Alex gives him a small smile, oblivious to what is happening inside Thomas´ mind.

Alex walks over to the bed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, before he starts wiping away the sweat and cum from Thomas´ skin. He closes his eyes and just enjoys being cared for, letting out a short whine, when Alexander´s hand leave him.

“Should I stay a bit?”, Alex asks, and Thomas nods, shifting a bit to get under the blanket.

He knows that this will only make everything harder, but he is too selfish to care about that. He lets out a sigh when Alex wraps his arms around him, cuddling against him. They are silent for some time, just enjoying the closeness of each other. Usually it´s Alex who breaks the silence, but this night, it´s Thomas who speaks first.

“Alexander?”, he asks tentatively, turning around in his arms so that he is looking at him.

“Hmm?”, the younger man gives back.

He lifts his hand and rakes it through Thomas´ hair, before pulling him close to press a kiss to his lips.

“What is it, sweetheart?”, Alex asks, frowning at him. “You look kind of sad, did I do something wrong?”

Thomas quickly shakes his head. Alex didn´t do something wrong. He just did what they agreed on. Thomas lets out a sigh. He really doesn´t know where to start.

“Are there other people beside me? Do you seek pleasure elsewhere when I don´t have time?”

The question comes out far more insecure then he intended, and he fears that he has given away too much, but when Alex cuddles closer and presses another kiss to his neck, he relaxes a little.

“Once.”

Thomas tenses at that, but Alexander´s soothing hands drawing circles on his back help him relax again.

“A few days after the first time, when I didn´t think you wanted to do this again. But after you came back, never.”

When Alex leans back a bit, Thomas thinks for a moment that he is going to get up, but instead he locks eyes with him, and Thomas´ breath catches in his throat at how unguarded and honest he shows how he feels.

Thomas presses their foreheads together, breathing in Alexander´s smell.

“Since that first time, I´ve only wanted you.”, Thomas whispers.

He feels Alexander´s lips brush against his.

“You have me.”

And somehow, those three words mean a lot more than a simple “I love you” ever could.

#jamilton #jamilton month #jamilton month 2020 #thomas jefferson #alexander hamilton #hamilton #hamilton musical #hamilton fic #my fics #mine #my writing

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consultingsister-aa · 4 years ago

Note

Seb and Cee for the ship thing!

A SHIPPY THING ... ACCEPTING

1) did your muse fall in love with mine quickly, or was it a long process? Early on in the dating process, Cee knew she wanted to be with Seb for a while. She possibly thought she was in love before she actually was, but the more Seb opened up, the more she loved him. 2) have they ever asked my muse to dance? do they even dance with my muse at all? Only every single day of her life. 3) are they the type to steal food from my muse’s plate? Cee will usually steal chips from Seb, a classic theft. Only he has started combating this by order her fries even when she doesn’t want them. She continues to steal from him however; they taste better when they’re off his plate. 4) does your muse ever cook for mine? if so, is it good – or does it suck ass? No. Staight up no. She tried once because Seb cooks a lot and she wanted to thank him but it was terrible. They both tried to tough it out but Seb couldn’t manage a third mouthful and Celia had to spit it into the sink. She is the wine tester most evenings. 5) what’s something they do when my muse is down? It depends on how Seb is down. Usually, he’ll pick a fight. Cee tries her best not to engage with it, but sometimes she wants a fight too and then it’s a three hour yelling match. They’re cruel but it gets out the frustration. If it’s more of a blue mood than a fighty mood, beers in front of the telly, a hand in his hair, a quiet nudge to talk about if he wants to. Just be with him as he rides it out. 6) what’s a topic they’re scared of talking about with my muse? For a long time, it’s family and the past to a certain extent. Things are kept vague; need to know. After Jim comes along and fucks it up though, they sort of realise there does need to be a basic level of understanding and honesty if they don’t want to die. Only takes them five years. 7) are they the type who’s affectionate? if so - how do they show their affection? if not, is there a reason they’re not affectionate? When drunk especially, Celia will cling to Seb and tell him over and over how much she loves him, how pretty he is, how nice his hair is. They’re not super into PDA, an arm around the shoulder usually keeps them bot happy. 8) are they the type to go on dates? if so, to where? Cee likes dates. She likes fake dates too. Pretending not to know each other in a bar? Very hot. It’s like cheating but you’re cheating on your husband with your husband. Bar dates and dinner dates are fun and she’s not against a good old fashioned movie but she likes dumb kid dates too; laser tag, paint ball, crazy golf. She knows how to keep things dumb and fun. 9) would they stay in bed with mine all day? if so, doing what? Sex, movies, talking. If she can get a good long day in bed at least twice a month, she’s pretty happy. Usually it’s after one of them have been on a work trip for a while. Phones off, lights low, just them. 10) what’s a typical night between our muses look like? Cee has a pretty strict no phones or laptops at the dinner table rule, mostly for herself or she’ll never stop. So Seb will cook, she’ll sit on the counter, drink and gossip, then they sit down to have dinner. Often they’ll go off to do some more work, or maybe Seb will head out for a job or to plan a job. If he’s out, Cee will work in front of the TV until about eleven, although won’t sleep until he gets home. It’s a bad habit. If he’s not out, she’ll still go to bed about eleven but she can sleep if he’s there. 11) do they read together? if so, what? Not really, sometimes Cee will read out passages of the book she’s reading if she think Seb will like it or find it funny. However their genres don’t really cross because Cee has little to no interest in Russian sci-fi. 12) who washes the other’s hair in the shower? Not in the shower but Seb washes Cee’s hair in the bath. It sort of started as a bit of a joke, like Cee leaning back and demanding he wahes her hair, him saying no, it becoming a THING but over time it’s just something he does now, without really being asked; it runs shivers down Cee’s spine and she loves it. 13) who is the driver? or do they switch places? or do none of them drive? Usually Seb, although they don’t drive that much. 14) who likes to smack who’s ass for no reason other than laughs? or are they both well-behaved? Both. It can sometimes become a thing of who can slap the other harder but then Seb does it too hard and Cee gets upset and he has to be very sorry. 15) do they like movies? if so what movies would they watch with mine? Cee watches a lot of classic black and white films, although often ones than she’s already seen so she doesn’t really watch them, she likes them on a back ground noise. They tried to keep up a movie night where they weren’t allowed to check their phones and they would watch all the Best Film Oscar nominations but they kept getting fidgety or falling asleep. 16) do they communicate their problems or are they the type to hold everything in until someone becomes upset? Seb and Cee communicating issues of a pretty major issue in their relationship. Seb will just start fights instead of telling her he’s not doing great and Cee tends to keep it inside and taking it out on him with snarky little remarks. She reads a lot of self-help books on how to have good communications in a marriage but it’s not much use. 17) do you see them as the marrying type? It takes killing a guy but sure. And as much as Celia likes to tell Seb she’s going to divorce him, it��s not happened yet. Actually, she’s a big fan of being married to Seb. 18) if they had kids, who would be the fun parent? Probably Seb. But the danger is that they’re both the fun parent and there are no rules, which is why they don’t have kids. Instead, they are the fun uncle and aunt and that works for them. 19) do they get along with my muse’s parents? Cee did get along with Kat until she told Seb to kill her rabbit over his stupid name. She likes Thomas just fine.

#epiitaphs #( i. message )#( vi. a dangerous game )

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miafic · 4 years ago

Text

one ~ two ~ three ~ four

Lucas had been overprotective of Zakk all week, to the point where he was kind of acting like a mother hen. And, for some reason, Zakk let it happen. He’d only protest once - “I feel fine” - before giving in and letting Lucas bring him a glass of water or rub his feet or even take a day off to stay home with him. That’s how afraid Lucas was; he managed to tear himself away from work. And it wasn’t really even that hard.

They spent most of the day lying side by side in bed. They watched TV and talked and had sex a couple of times, slow and gentle and loving. They showered together, and Lucas took his time massaging shampoo into Zakk’s hair and then helping Zakk rinse it out. Then Lucas held him, both of them standing with half of their body beneath the spray, until the water went from hot to lukewarm.

It had been a long, emotional, terrifying week for both of them. “Are you in any pain?” Lucas would ask. Or maybe, “Are your joints okay?” They’d cut pizza, beef, and popcorn out of their diets and instead started eating lots of asparagus and fish and small fruits like raspberries and blueberries - whatever Lucas had found online during his google searches for food that was good for your kidneys.

The night before the follow-up was scheduled, Lucas had barely been able to sleep. He was wrapped around Zakk, holding him, watching the numbers on the digital clock creep forward.

Zakk turned over in the middle of the night and burrowed into Lucas’ chest. Lucas squeezed him tighter and kissed his head at least ten times before finally falling asleep around 3:30. The alarm went off at 5:15.

“Are you sure you want me to go to work?” Lucas whispered.

Zakk nodded. “I’ll be fine,” came his slow, tired reply.

Lucas kissed him, got up, and got dressed. He spent several minutes brushing his hair out and getting his bun just right, and when he went back out to say goodbye, Zakk was, as usual, asleep. Lucas pressed their foreheads together for a long moment while he said a silent prayer. Then he kissed Zakk’s relaxed lips and slipped out of the room.

---

The morning wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but truth be told, it felt a little like hell.

Lucas went into the house, greeted the aide, and went to wake the boys up. “Good morning! Rise and shine!” he called, forcing as much of a smile as he could. He was met with one sleepy, “Lucaaaaaas!” but otherwise just grumbles and complaints.

Breakfast was simple - cereal and milk - and then the kids cleaned up and spent the rest of their time in the game room. Two of them got into it over foosball, which meant that Lucas had to intervene before the arguing and yelling turned into something worse, but once the issue was settled, it was settled.

Brendon and Ryan showed up a few minutes early, and Lucas passed the kids off to them as soon as they walked in the door. He had half a mind to collapse onto the couch for a nap, but he knew that despite having already completed the meal schedules through the next three months in an effort to stave off his anxiety, he had work to do. Chore charts needed to be made, emails needed to be sent, and he still needed to find a service project for the kids to do the following week.

Despite his long to-do list, he accidentally nodded off at his desk and jolted awake twenty minutes later, a feeling of guilt washing over him. Still, he grabbed for his phone to make sure that Zakk hadn’t texted. He hadn’t. Lucas opened their message and sent, Thinking of you, and a sunshine emoji. There was no response, but it wasn’t even 8:30 AM. Zakk was probably still sleeping.

Lucas threw himself back into planning. Controlling what he could. Mapping out something stable. When his phone dinged forty minutes later, he about jumped out of his skin.

“Zakk,” he breathed as he saw the name on the display. He hurried to unlock the phone and read the message - I love you baby. One more hour and then either way we’ll know something.

Yeah, Lucas wrote back immediately. I love you too. Hopefully they’ll call soon.

Zakk didn’t say anything back. Lucas resumed his work.

---

“Zakk’s hoooome!” one of the boys declared as Zakk pulled into the driveway.

“Zakk! Zakk! Zakk!” another kid started chanting, but luckily, it didn’t catch on.

Lucas herded the kids into the dining room so that they could start their lunch, but he hung back, watching as Zakk came in through the kitchen. Not wanting to seem too eager or to make Zakk anxious, he wandered out of the kitchen and toward the entry of the house.

Zakk, of course, went to greet the kids first thing. Lucas couldn’t really tell what his mood was, but he did hear him ask, “Do you guys know where Lucas is?”

“I’m out here,” Lucas replied, voice raised a little so Zakk would hear him from the distance.

Zakk came around the corner, and Lucas gave him a stressed smile.

“Hey,” Lucas said. “Do you wanna go in the office?”

“No, but I wondered if you could do something for me.” Zakk’s face was serious as he looked up at Lucas.

“Anything.”

“Could you stop by the pharmacy on your way home? They prescribed me some antibiotics.”

Lucas’ mouth fell open and quickly transformed into a wide smile. “Yes!” he half-shouted. “Yes, I would-” He cut himself off and grabbed Zakk in a tight hug. “I would love to do that for you. I would love to pick up antibiotics for you.” He squeezed his eyes shut and laughed in relief. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

Zakk laughed fondly, embracing Lucas just as tightly. “I’m sorry for not calling; I just wanted to see your face,” Zakk confessed.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you were here for me to hug.”

Zakk chuckled. “Me, too.”

“What’s going on?” the chanting kid asked. He was standing in the archway with his roommate at his side, watching Lucas and Zakk hug.

They both straightened up, but they didn’t rush. (They knew that would only make them look suspicious.)

“We got some good news,” Lucas smiled. He nudged Zakk with his elbow and said, “Let’s go in the office for a second.” To the boys, he said, “You’re always complaining that you’re hungry. Go eat.”

Lucas and Zakk walked together into the office, and Lucas shut the door behind them. “So you’re okay?” he asked almost pleadingly, taking Zakk’s hands. “You’re really okay?”

“Yeah. They said it was a UTI that didn’t have any symptoms other than - remember how I was so tired a couple weeks ago?”

Lucas nodded.

“That’s apparently a symptom of what I had. It’s called a ‘silent UTI.’ And because it wasn’t treated, bacteria went up into my kidneys and was causing problems. If I hadn’t been to the doctor, and if I kept not showing symptoms, it could have eventually killed me.”

Lucas shook his head, shocked. “Wow.”

“I know.” Zakk fell into his chest, and Lucas hugged him tightly.

“I love you so much,” Lucas whispered to him. “I love you, I love you.”

“I love you.”

They shared a kiss and then another long embrace.

“I’m gonna be okay,” Zakk said happily.

“Yeah,” Lucas breathed. He gave Zakk a squeeze.

“When’s the last time you went to the doctor?” Zakk asked, and Lucas snorted before he could stop himself.

“What?” Zakk asked, pulling back.

“Uh, nothing, just... it’s been a while.”

“How long is a while? You never talk about it.”

Lucas looked away and shrugged.

Zakk made a soft noise of disapproval. “Well, we need to get you an appointment somewhere. I don’t want what happened to me happening to you. Or if something’s already happening, we need to know sooner rather than later.”

“No, that’s okay.”

Zakk blinked. “What?”

“I’m not going to the doctor. I’m fine.”

“You actually have a lot of stuff going on I’d like to ask about, so...”

Lucas shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“Lucas,” Zakk said, confusion and hurt written across his face. “I just told you I could have died. And you won’t go to the doctor? Just one appointment?”

“Nope.”

The hurt was replaced with anger. “Why?”

“Because I don’t like going.”

“Well, too bad. You’re going.”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are. I will make you an appointment and drag you there myself.”

“No, you won’t, because I’m really not going,” Lucas said with a laugh. The computer made a dinging sound that signaled that he’d just gotten an email, so he turned away from the conversation. “You should go eat. There’s a wrap for you on the counter.”

Zakk was quiet for several seconds. Then he said, “Come eat with me.”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“To eat?”

“No, but I’ll sit with you.”

Zakk sighed. “You need to eat. You need to take better care of yourself. You need to go to the doctor. It’s not a debate, Lucas; you’re going.”

“It’s not a debate, and I’m not going.” Before Zakk could protest again, he said, “I love you, and I am so glad that you’re okay, and I’m really happy that they caught the problem before it got bad. But I’m not going to the doctor. Let’s just celebrate you today, okay?”

“We’re talking about this later,” Zakk warned.

Lucas gave him a halfhearted grin. As soon as the door was closed, though, he let the smile drop. Lucas wasn’t going to the doctor, no matter what Zakk said. No fucking way.

#this is so badly written and i am sorry but i also dont care you know? it gets the point across #lucas #zakk #sun and moon #lucas’ trauma pt 1.91

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dvp95 · 5 years ago

Text

step into the light

pairing: dan howell/phil lester rating: teen & up tags: uni au, sort of? they're both in uni but this is not about uni, it's about two idiots meeting in the middle of the night at a corner shop where one of them works, and also heelies are involved, fluff, humour, meet-cute word count: 1.4k summary: Dan works the night shift at a corner store and Phil needs a sugar fix.

this was written for @cactilads in october, but i kept it on my back burner in case i wanted to come back to it and make it a whole Story. i've decided that i like it the way it is and i don’t want it on my shoulders like a gargoyle anymore. vivi drew GORGEOUS art for it already, which you can see and reblog here!

read on ao3 or here!

Dan doesn't mind the night shift. It's eons better than when he started his Asda shifts at five in the fucking morning - that was basically actual torture. Sure, it kind of sucks to go to classes at regular times throughout the week when his sleep schedule is swapped for work, but he'd be lying if he said he'd be asleep on Friday and Saturday nights anyway.

It's just boring, most of the time. The owner, a no-nonsense Indian woman a little older than Dan's parents, doesn't give a shit if Dan plays on his DS all night, as long as he doesn't nod off or let anyone break anything. He's been expressly forbidden from dealing with shoplifters in any way but to call the police, which works just fine for Dan. He wouldn't know what to do, anyway, always feels a little tongue-tied and awkward when he sees people shove candy bars and sodas into their jackets. He never calls the police, because, well, it's a fucking Mars bar.

There are a few moments of interest, usually in the form of drunk students livening up the place or exhausted parents stood in front of the baby food for so long that Dan worries they've fallen asleep, but for the most part his weekend shifts go by in quiet Pokémon battles and half-assed studying.

Tonight, though, Dan gets his favourite distraction. He's folded up on his chair in a way that increases his chances of tumbling off it and struggling not to fall asleep on his property law textbook.

Dan glances up as the door of his shoddy little corner shop dings. It's nearing three, which means he's either dealing with someone drunk, high, or very tired.

The guy who comes in is none of the three - at least, not obviously so. He gives Dan a jaunty, familiar sort of wave before he makes a beeline towards the slushie machine. Dan is sufficiently distracted, because this guy is the most bewildering part of his nights.

He doesn't come in every night that Dan's working, but it's often enough that Dan has developed a kind of fixation. Why does he always need an extra large slushie between the hours of two and four in the goddamn morning? Why does he mix all the flavours together and act like it's good (Dan has tried it, many times, and it's awful)? Nothing about him makes any sense at all.

Dan likes a good mystery, especially when it distracts him from property law, so he sits up a little straighter and lets his eyes follow the guy around the store.

And - okay. Okay. Maybe the guy is cute, in addition to being bemusing. He's always got glasses on and his dark hair shoved haphazardly off his forehead, a smile that reaches his sparkling eyes, long legs that always end up catching Dan's gaze.

He's looking at them now, actually, half wishing Hot Slushie Guy could be wearing his usual grey sweats, because the Star Wars pyjamas just aren't doing his thighs justice, when Dan notices the shoes at the end of the nice legs.

At first he just thinks, huh. Weird of a guy who looks uni age to be wearing light-up sneakers, but whatever. He's seen much, much weirder in this corner shop alone. Hell, he's seen weirder from this guy alone, since there was that one night that he'd come in wearing animal slippers of some kind or the other time he'd come with a beret on his head at 4:15 in the morning or the time - the point is, the sneakers themselves don't really give Dan any kind of pause.

Not until the guy goes to get a straw, and instead of walking like a regular person, he shifts onto his heels and glides over.

Dan is dumbfounded. Heelies still exist? What the fuck? He has not thought about them in literal years, not since people collectively decided they were mildly dangerous and very uncool.

This guy doesn't seem to have gotten the memo. He glides back over to his slushie and Dan has a moment of total certainty that he's about to eat shit before he does so, smashing into a rack of magazines with a small yelp and knocking it all to the floor. He manages to stay upright, but just barely.

Dan sighs. At least he didn't spill his stupid drink everywhere.

"Alright, mate?" Dan calls over, coming out from behind the counter. He knows that this doesn't count as letting someone break things, but he still wants to clean it up before Ms. Gujar magically appears behind his shoulder and scolds him.

"Uh," the guy says, his eyes wide and apologetic. He crouches down to start picking up the mess of magazines and Dan, not wanting to look like he's slacking off, joins him. "Yeah. Sorry."

"It's okay," says Dan. He shrugs a bit, stacking the mags into neat piles. "I've had people do stupider shit."

The guy's voice is much brighter when he asks, "Really?"

He's just grabbing magazines at random. Dan has to reach out and take them from him before he puts the Good Housekeeping beside the Cosmo.

"Really," Dan assures him. "I have a spray bottle for breaking up chav fights."

The joke makes the guy grin at him, wide and sparkling and so contagious that Dan has to duck his head to hide his own.

"Well, it doesn't look like much of value was lost," the guy says, holding up a magazine by the corner with his finger and thumb like he doesn't want to touch it. Dan can't stop the embarrassing bark of a laugh that comes out of his mouth when he gets a good look at the cover.

"Bikinis don't really do it for you, huh?" he asks, taking the magazine and shoving it at the back where it belongs. He stands and, after a beat, thinks to offer his hand to help the guy up as well.

His hand is a little smaller than Dan's and soft, like he actually moisturizes. He squeezes Dan's hand before he stands up and again before he lets go. Dan wonders, a little ridiculously, if he's trying to communicate in Morse code or something.

"No, Dan, they don't," the guy laughs, reaching for his slushie like he hadn't almost broken his neck for it.

"How," Dan starts, and then looks down at himself as he remembers that he's got a name tag on. "Oh. Well, that's not very fair. I don't know your name."

The guy takes a long drink of his slushie and then winces. "Ugh, brain freeze. I know your name, but you know that girls in bikinis are boring to me," he laughs, "so I think we're even on the personal information front."

That's not fair. Dan wants to know, wants to stop calling him Hot Slushie Guy in his own mind, wants to find out what he's always doing here to get early morning sugar rushes. Dan feels his mouth twist into a sulk before he can think too much about how uncool that makes him look.

"Well," says Dan, putting his hands on his hips in a way he hopes looks casual and not awkward. "I'm not big on girls in bikinis, either."

He swears he sees those blue-green eyes sparkle. "No?"

"So now we're uneven," Dan says. "And you should tell me your name. Also, why you get a disgusting drink almost every weekend at a time most humans are asleep. Also, also, why you have heelies."

"Wow, that's a lot of questions," the guy says, but he doesn't seem bothered by it. He's still grinning. "You're gonna owe me some stuff, too, y'know. To even it back out. So why don't I pay for this, and I'll keep you company for a bit."

Alright. Dan can work with that.

"As long as you don't use those anymore," he says with a gesture down at the light-up sneakers. "I don't want you destroying the place."

"That's fair. I'm Phil, and I do tend to destroy places when left to my own devices." Now Dan just has to focus on actually calling him that and not just accidentally saying Hot Slushie Guy out loud.

"Nice to meet you, Phil," he says. "You should teach me how to make all the flavours taste good together."

Phil grins around his straw. "It's a science."

"We've got all night," says Dan, a little more hope in his voice than he really wants there to be. Phil grins even wider and grabs for an empty slushie cup.

#phanfiction #phanfic #dnp fic #words words words

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pan-roses · 5 years ago

Text

No Sick Days {Moxiety Sick Fic}

Patton wakes up feeling sick, but he has so much to do today, that he can’t take a break.

Warnings: Sickness, Remus, Deceit, mentions of puke, passing out. (If I missed a warning, let me know please!)

_________

Patton woke up feeling icky and lightheaded. He felt covered in sweat and his eyes were out of focus more than usual without his glasses on, and his body felt lacking his strength to hold him up properly. However, he had things to do, as all husbands and fathers of three usually do. He had to make Virgil, and the kid's breakfast, take Roman to acting lessons, drop Remus at his friend's house to work on a school project, and offer help for Logan’s science fair project to be ready for Monday. Not to mention to tidy the house and laundry.

Such a busy man doesn’t have time to lay in bed and sleep.

He looked at the clock. 6:30. It was a bit earlier than he usually woke up, but he didn’t want to risk falling back asleep. However, he didn’t make it out of the bed, as he was pulled back down gently by Virgil.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, still half asleep, but awake enough.

“I was going to get a start on the day!” Patton said, making his voice a higher pitch to hide his tired voice. “You can never be too early.”

Virgil rose a brow. “First off, yes you can. And second, it’s way too early to do anything. At least stay in be for another half hour?” Virgil asked, already snuggling close to Patton, burying his head in his chest.

Patton chuckled lightly at his husband, true love in his eyes. He didn’t want to risk sleeping in, but he couldn’t say no to Virgil and caved in. “Okay, maybe just a few more minutes.”

“Knew you’d stay,” Virgil mumbled, already falling back to sleep again.

________

Patton felt slightly dazed when he felt a cool hand touch his forehead, waking him up. His eyes opened to a worried Virgil standing over him. “Virge?”

“Pat! Are you feeling okay?”

Patton felt worse than before despite the short nap. He felt generally warmer, and his head hurt more. But seeing the worry on Virgil’s face, he knew that would only worry him to hear. “I feel fine, why?”

“Your burning up. I think you’re coming down with something.” Virgil told. “Maybe you should stay in bed for the day, catch up on some rest and such.”

Patton shook his head, sitting up. He felt his head rush with dizziness, but he ignored it. “I’m fine, Virgil. I probably just overheated with all the blankets we have.” Patton lied easily, making his gut turn in guilt. “I’m fine, promise! Besides, I have lots to do today.”

“I could he--”

“No no! It’s finally your day off, you rest.” Patton leaned over and kissed Virgil’s forehead. “Relax, hun.”

Virgil sighed, knowing he couldn’t get past Patton’s stubbornness. “Okay… but you better take it easy!”

“I will. Now, you go get yourself settled downstairs, I’ll wake the kids and get a start on breakfast.”

“Heh. have fun with those adorable trainwrecks.” Virge joked, kissing the back of Patton’s hand before leaving for downstairs. Patton finally got out of bed and quickly changed out of his sleepwear. He put on his cat sweater that youngest, Logan, got for his birthday last year, a blue skirt, and blue knee-high cat socks. He felt playful today, despite his terrible headache and sore body. He can be cute anytime he wants, sick or not!

He finished cleaning himself up for heading to the kid's rooms. Roman and Remus shared a room while Logan got one to himself. Roman wanted a room to himself, but Logan had more stuff than he did, with all his books and such, that it would’ve been too difficult to move it all.

Heading to Logan’s room first, he knocked 3 times, lightly in case he was sleeping still. He didn’t want to startle the child. After a moment, a sleepy 13-year-old Logan opened the door, his glasses crooked on his face. “Good morning, father,” he yawned. “Waking me up for breakfast, I assume?”

“Well, it’s not made yet, but yes!” Patton knelt down to Logan’s height and fixed his glasses. “Did ya spend the night reading again?”

He nodded. “I read about a book that involved stars and how were made using different chemicals from the Big Bang Theory.”

“Sounds very interesting, kiddo! How about you get dressed and head downstairs with papa? I’m sure he’d love to hear all about it!”

Logan nodded, a faint smile on his face. Patton kissed his head and Logan sunk back into his room, gently closing the door. When Patton stood back up, he felt his head rush and lent against the wall for support as the world spun. He felt so lightheaded, but he things to do, and he wouldn’t let this stop him. Giving himself a moment, he walked to the next door over, smiling when he heard voices on the other side of the door. He gave the door and knock before opening it, knowing they wouldn’t hear it. It opened to reveal the two 15-year-olds, Roman and Remus, acting out the scene in Sleeping Beauty, where Prince Phillip fought against Maleficent’s dragon form. Roman was the prince, pointing his wooden sword at Remus, who was Maleficent and who was standing on the top bunk, dressed in a dragon costume.

“Where is my dear princess, you dragon fiend!?” Roman asked, acting pretty well.

“Hahaha, as if I’d tell you, you poopy prince!” Remus retorted back, making a face at Roman. “You will never defeat me and my beloved Condom!” Remus then held up a hamster ball with his pet fish, Condom, in it. The fish actually didn’t mind being in there.

Roman groaned “Urg, Remus, that’s not the line!”

Remus shrugged and held Condom up to his face. “I don’t really care, Condom liked my performance, anyway.”

“She’s a fish, Remus! There is no way you could know that.”

“I feel it. I feel it right here.” Remus pointed to his butt, making Roman roll his eyes.

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re annoying. You and your fish.”

Roman gasped loudly. “How DARE you insult my dear Disney?! She is a goddess!”

Patton, although he did enjoy watching them, knew this could go too far and stepped in. “Now now, kiddos. No fighting, okay. Both your fishes are amazing!”

“DAD!” They both cheer, smiling brightly.

“Hey, kiddos! Since you’re already dressed, wanna head downstairs while I make breakfast?”

“Okay.” “Sure,” they said.

Patton nodded. “Make sure to feed the fishes, as well, before you do.”

He closed the door just as Logan left his room, dressed in his usual jeans and button-up. However, his tie wasn’t done up yet. “Ah, father, may I borrow you for some assistance? It will only be a moment, I’m sure. I just need help with my tie”

“Sure thing, kiddo!” He knelt in front of Logan once again and did up Logan’s tie. While he did, Logan suddenly touched his forehead.

“Father, you seem to have a rise in your temperature. Maybe consider taking a ‘sick day’?”

“No no, I’m okay, just a warm day.” When he finished the tie, he patted Logan’s head and stood up. “Besides, we have to finish your project today, don’t we?”

Logan’s face lit up, smiling up at Patton. “That’s correct. For the science fair!”

Patton smiled, feeling a burst of energy. Seeing his kids all happy and upbeat fills him with joy.

_______

Patton kept that energy all the way through breakfast and clean up afterwards. But he started feeling worse than before as the day went on. It was an hour before he had to take Roman to acting lessons and Remus to Dee’s house. Patton didn’t feel safe enough to drive like this, but he had to do something,

“Ro and Re?” He called. The boys stopped looking at their phones and turned to Patton. “How about we walk instead of me driving? It’s a beautiful day out, let’s enjoy it!”

When the boys excitedly agreed to walk, they packed up all they need. As they did, Virgil walked up to Patton, who had changed into a cat tank top that matched his sweater. “Pat, you seriously aren’t looking too good. You should really stay at home.”

“Virge, I really am fine. It’s just a warm day. I’m sure a walk will cool me off!”

Virgil didn’t seem convinced as Patton left with Roman and Remus. Virgil knew Patton tended to lie with things like this, and it annoyed him that Patton couldn’t take time for himself. Virgil felt a small hand holding onto his, he looked down to see Logan holding his hand, a worried look also on his face. Virge held his hand tighter, pulling his son closer. “Yeah, I know, Lo… I’m worried too…”

_______

The first stop they reached was Dee’s house. Remus ran ahead and rapidly knocked on the door until the annoyed face of Dee appeared. “Remus, must you be so annoying?”

“Duuuh, it’s my job, Dee-Dee!” Remus giggled as Dee rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, just get inside. You brought your work, right?” He asked, waving goodbye and closing the door when Remus was inside.

The next stop was Roman’s theatre. It was a bit further into town, about a half-hour walk. Patton and Roman chatted, but Ro defiantly carried the conversation as Patton was just trying his best to walk straight.

“Dad, you okay?” Roman asked, concerned.

“I’m fine kiddo, just really hot out,” Patton said, fanning himself to make his lie more believable. It seemed to satisfy him as they made their way.

When they arrived, Patton gave Roman a big hug as usual. “Have lots of fun, Ro-Ro. You’re gonna do great!”

“I know I will!” He said proudly. “Love you!” He said before running into the building, meeting up with his friends Joan and Talyn.

As Patton made his way back home, he felt horrid. His body was barely listening to him as he swayed while walking and his mind made the world spin. His stomach felt like it was burning food he didn’t have, which caused his chest to hurt from the heaving he was doing trying to hold back vomit.

“Uh, gurl-friend?” Patton heard a voice call out. He barely managed to turn, seeing his friend and neighbour, Remy standing there, holding a Starbuck’s as usual. His glasses were slid down his nose a bit so he could get a good look at Pat. “You look like shit.”

Patton couldn’t even say anything back, because when he tried, he felt like he was about to puke. He held his mouth tight with one hand, the other holding his gut. He felt so lightheaded that everything went white for a second.

Then he passed out.

______

When Patton woke up again, he was met with the worried face of his husband, who put a fresh damp cloth on his head. “Virge?”

When Virgil head his husband’s voice, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do you do this Patton? Why do you push yourself past your limits?”

“Virgil?” Patton asked, worried.

“You scared me, Patton!” Virgil said, his voice raised. “When Remy called me saying you collapsed, I froze, Pat! I was so scared, scared that you’d pushed yourself to death! I can’t take this Patton! I can’t-- I can’t lose you like that, I can’t lose you! I was so scared Pat…!” Virgil had tears falling rapidly down his face. He grabbed Patton’s hand and held it to his chest tightly. Pat could feel his fast heartbeat. “You have to take care of yourself… Please, please, just… take care of yourself. The world won’t fall apart if you take a break. We can take care of ourselves from time to time. You don't have to push yourself.”

Patton didn’t realize he was crying till Virgil wiped his tears away. Pat pulled Virgil’s hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “I’m sorry, Virge, I’m so sorry… I just, I feel like I’m enough for you all.”

“Pat, you are enough. You are always enough.”

Patton smiled, feeling love swell in his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too… We all do.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

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