#literally the only time I hate living alone/being single is when I’m sick | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ch4nb4ng · 3 years ago

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Evil Roommate

pairing: leeknow x afab!reader, roommates enemies to lovers

warnings: softdom!lino, cheating (mentioned), making out, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering penetration, cum play (?), praise

requested : yes!

word count 6.2k

summary: the new roommate was a handful. lazy, disrespectful, arrogant, and a whole bunch of other negative things. but wow, you were sexually frustrated and he, well, attractive, was an understatement.

“Can you actually like, wash your kitchen utensils when you're done using them?”

The amount of huffing and puffing you have heard from your new roommate in the past two weeks was ridiculous. If you had a dollar for every time he had gone against anything you had politely asked for, you would be rich by now, and definitely stable enough to move out and away from him.

“I will,” he mumbled, mouth stuffed with half of the carrot he was chewing on, very loudly, “can I not enjoy my food first?”

“No,” you replied without hesitation, giving the fakest of smiles in return, “you should do it before you eat.”

Another eye roll from Minho was like water off a duck’s back.

“I'd also appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me with your mouth full of food either.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You coughed, turning on your hills to face a very unimpressed roommate. His stare was eye shattering. Yes, he was very, no, extremely good looking. However, every single thing that made up his personality could not be more different to you. Sloppy, messy, lazy. Took no responsibility for any of his actions, especially the high pitch noises (that obviously were not his) you would hear from his room in the early hours of the morning. You would pinch your pillow together, praying extremely hard that the noise would stop, and by the time it did, you would get maybe 2, 3 hours of sleep. College was becoming tiring, not only from staying up to complete assessments, but the lewd noises you could hear from at least 2 people in his room. Your blunt attitude towards Minho’s unhygienic and disrespectful habits were definitely justified.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why do you nitpick everything I do?”

Your jaw dropped, completely dumbfounded.

“Me? Nitpicking you? Please,” you scoffed, “you don't clean up after yourself ever, you leave your dirty clothes everywhere, and don't even get me started on the fact that I barely get any sleep because of your wild sex adventures with other people that occur almost every weeknight, when you know I have to wake up early to go to class next day.”

A combination of frustration and exhaustion could be heard through the harshness of each breath. The smirk that appeared on his face was absolutely punch worthy. What on earth was there to be so cocky of?

“My wild sex adventures,” he paused taking a bite of the dreaded carrot, “please, tell me more about my wild sex adventures.”

His tongue was now obviously pressed against his cheek, a devil coated smile still very apparent on his face. The longer he was looking at you like that, the hotter your cheeks became. Pure anger began to course through you; all he had to do was sit there and look pretty. It was definitely enough for you to get the green light to slap him across the face.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed, “I don’t need to explain how I can hear them moaning your name every night, or the banging I hear from wall to-”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “you seem to be listening very well.”

Distracted by your anger for a brief moment, you gasped suddenly, feeling Minho’s fingertips at your sides. You turned around, swatting his hands away, giving him that slap that you felt you had earned across the face.

“Who the fuck said you could touch me?

“Did you just fucking slap me?”

“Yes I fucking did,” you spat, “what do you take me for?”

“You know what you’re right, but you walk around here with a stick up your ass. I hear you on the phone to your friends, complaining about how you don't get any action from anyone.”

You stood there in disbelief. “So you’ve been eavesdropping on my convos as well?”

“Well it’s kind of hard not to hear, you know, the walls in this house are kind of thin.”

Your jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed, the conversation was at a stand still.

“Can you get to the point please?”

“I sure can sweetheart,” the name sending a shiver down your spine, “if you're that sexually frustrated, go and do something about it instead of taking it out on me?”

A laugh that you didn't even know you were capable of bellowed from your chest. You stumbled back, grabbing onto stool behind the bench for support.

“Me? Sexually frustrated? Please,” you huffed, “I’m not sexually frustrated, and it definitely has nothing to do with you.”

Another scoff escaped your lips as you shuffled back to your room. Closing the door behind you, a heavy sigh came from your chest as you sat on the edge of your bed. How on earth was he able to read you like that? So well and so accurate? It was all you could think about, not to mention the fact that it was also night time simultaneously.

You let your body fall onto your bed sheets. The feeling of restlessness was consuming your body. As you crawled into bed, you looked straight into the ceiling. Why were you thinking about his words so much? Were you really taking it out on him? You shook your head, mentally slapping yourself for even considering the thought.

Minho was a lazy slob who was extremely inconsiderate of others, especially you. But why was the thought of his fingers on your sides becoming the main source of agitation.? The silence of your thoughts was deafening, but they were easily interrupted as soon as you heard the door open, a high pitched voice followed what felt like the most ludicrous creek you had ever heard. ‘I should really put some oil on the door huh?’ You paused for a couple of seconds, this time physically face palming yourself for the dumb excuse you had made to see who he had decided to bring over to accompany him tonight. Legs completely ignoring your brain, you were out of bed, hand twisting the knob and peeking a look at the poor girl that would be subjected to Minho’s torture tonight. Tip toeing out of the doorway, you kept the weight of a feather on your toes, making yourself as invisible as possible.

“Y/n?”

Your pink panther stance of attempted deception looked utterly ridiculous and not sly at all was extremely confusing to the two. You quickly relaxed into a normal stance, the fakest of smiles coming across your face as you see who it is he brought home to have his way with.

“Chaeyeon… heyyy,” you lingered, “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

You would have been happy with literally anyone else. But Chaeyeon? Chaeyeon? It’s like she was your number one arch rival. Minho knew how much you hated her, yet he still let her come over. Everything about her you could not stand, not to mention the fact that she home wrecked your last serious relationship. Even though it was a while ago, you can forgive but not forget, her face being a constant reminder of your hurtful past.

“Oh hey Y/N,” she almost signed, her amount of excitement to see you matching yours, “I didn’t know you lived here.”

The arm he had around her waist made you sick.

“There’s a lot of things you don't know about me,” you mumbled, foot swaying back and forth, eyes focused on said foot.

“Okay, so you guys have had a little reunion,” Minho interrupted. Anything would have been better to break the awkward silence than his sarcastic comments, “we’re gonna go to my room now.”

“NO!” you interjected, covering the hallway with every bit of your being, “I mean, what’s the rush huh? Changbin is coming over as well.”

You paused, Minho’s face clearly cussing you out if yelling was inappropriate at this current moment.

“Uh no thanks Y/N-”

“We should all hang out!”

The excitement coming from your voice was so inauthentic, it was hard to miss.

“Yeah! Let’s all hang out,” you walked behind them, placing a hand on each of their backs and you hurried them to the couch, “I’ll get some beers in the fridge.”

“I actually only drink vodka,” Chaeyeon yawns, obnoxiously twirling her hair, her other hand aggravatingly high on his thigh.

“Oh that’s totally fine,” you gritted through tightly clenched teeth, “we have a bottle in the fridge, I’ll grab that for you as well.”

You scuffled back over to the fridge, mentally cursing yourself as you grabbed the necessary beverages. The confusion you were giving yourself about why you were putting in so much effort to spend time with the two people you literally hated more than anything was mind baffling

“So,” you began again, passing a Corona to Minho, a glass to Chaeyeon, “how have you been finding your course so far?”

You sat the Smirnoff and Orange juice on the table. Yes, you were being nice, but not nice enough to pour the drink for this bitch.

“Oh it was so great,” she smiled, “Jisung and I were living together, it was, well, a dream really.”

The feeling of your nails became prominent in your fists as your fingers caved in. The mention of his name was enough to make you see red, let alone the idea of them being happily together. The itch of your eye begging to roll was becoming too prominent, so much that you had to get up and walk away for a second. You stood up abruptly, confusion etched into Minho’s features. You didn’t want to make this a big deal, but the fact that she continued to gloat about it, long after you stopped listening was enough to reach your breaking point.

“I think I heard my phone ringing from my room, it must be Changbin.”

“I don't think I hear anything,” Minho smirked, plastering his lips on the edge of the bottle. The way his lips wrapped around the tip of the warm glass was something you ‘accidentally’ became fixated on. You puffed your cheeks, storming to your room and somewhat aggressively shutting the door behind you. Scrambling for your phone on the bedside table, you panicked, unclear mind as you scrolled through your phone contacts. You paused, an inducing amount of oxygen filling up your lungs. It did little to calm the irritated tingling sensation in your fingers.

Changbin’s name had finally popped up on your phone after what had felt like a lifetime.

“Hello?”

His voice was husky, guilt panging your chest as you realsied you had probably woken him up from his not very often deep slumber.

“Changbin,” you gasped, “you know how much I love you right?”

“What do you need me to do?”

You snickered at his words. He had been your friend for too long to know that those words would never be said unless you needed something.

“Can you come over,” you pleaded, “Chaeyeon is here with Minho because he invited her over late at night, and I told them you were coming over?”

“Jesus Y/n,” Changbin sighed, a playful chuckle tickling your cheek, “so you want me to come over and make Minho jealous?”

“Wait no wtf,” you jumbled, “make Minho jealous? I just want you to flirt with me and Chaeyeon so she leaves.”

“Mhm yeah,” he chuckled once more, voice laced with sarcasm as he spoke, “I’ll come over, but if you don't sleep with him by the end of the night, I’m gonna be extremely disappointed.”

“Yeah okay whatever just get your ass over here now.”

And with that you abruptly ended the phone call, Changbin giving you no peace of mind. Were you this easy to read by everybody? A frustrated sigh exploded from your chest. The games your head and your heart were playing with were helping you come to no resolution. You sat on your bed, thoughts were running crazy. Now would be a really great time to just put on Netflix and curl into bed, have some snacks and fall asleep, chip trail on ur chest to be found in the morning.

You were interrupted by the very loud knock on the door. Sprinting like your life depended on it, you were relieved. Seeing Changbin’s face had never before given you so much joy.

“Changbin,” you shouted, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Y/n what are you doing-”

“Shut up and go along with it,” you mumbled into his chest, letting up, but still keeping your body tightly wounded against his. Minho’s jaw became clenched, or were you just imagining things?

Regardless of what it was, your brain quickly shifted to the way Chaeyeon was eyeing Changbin up and down, almost like it was the first time she had ever seen an attractive male. ‘She definitely wasn’t looking at Minho like that when he walked in’ you thought, an unconscious smirk coming to mouth. You bit down on your bottom lip, an extremely poor attempt at masking the satisfaction of your goal being achieved so easily. One step closer to kicking her out, for good, because there was no way you weren’t talking to Minho after this about making an explicit declaration of her abandonment from this house.

“Minho,” he smiled, earning a nod, “Chaeyeon,” he smirked, an almost gag spilling out of your mouth.

“Changbin,” she followed, repeating his smirk, “long time no see.”

She gulped, engulfing a large sip of alcohol into her wicked mouth.

“Let’s play a game!”

“A game,” you questioned, raising an eyebrow, “why would we play-”

“I think that’s a great idea!”

You turned to look at him, a puzzled expression still very apparent on your facial features.

“Get the vodka out from the fridge, and let’s get started.”

***

Two bottles of vodka down, and what looked like 8 bottles of Corona sitting empty on the table, the games that were being played were becoming more difficult to comprehend. Sound of giggle and laughter constantly filled the room as everyone slowly began to lose their minds to the intoxication.

“O-okay, never have I e-ever, done a sexual act in public.”

Filters of chuckles and laughter filled the room as everyone, but you took a sip.

“What?” she asked, offering you her fake sympathy, “you’ve never done anything like that before?”

“I-I mean,” you stuttered, the look of confusion was evident, “I don’t think I have-”

“Yes you have.”

All eyes were snapped open and pressing into Minho’s skull as he began to converse.

“Pfft, no I have not,” you scoffed, taking another swig. An eye roll left came from Minho, followed by a sound of what seemed to be disgust as he shot gunned his current bottle.

“Yes you have,” he nagged, playfully hitting your shoulder, “I saw you.”

Complete silence fell over the room as he words lingered in the air. You genuinely had no idea what he was talking about.The feeling of the room had suddenly changed. His eyes became soft, fixated on nothing but the way your body slumped against the rough material of the couch.

Your mind began to drift. Thoughts floating into earlier scenes of the night. The closeness of his breath fanning your neck ever so softly, palms spread across your hips. The idea of marks on you swimming into your head. God that would feel so good. Letting him grab you and throw you onto his bed. Climbing up your frame, starting from the bottom of your legs, keeping a tight grip on your inner thighs. The feeling of faint lips stealing every inch of your being, tantalisingly hitting every, single, spot, finally reaching your-

“Y/N? Y/N!”

The feeling of Changbin's shaking your shoulders definitely brought you back to reality. His hands did feel nice, but they weren’t the ones you were longing for. Your head was thrown back, disbelief filling you as your mind continued to fill the gutter.

“When?”

As you moved closer, you giggled, placing your finger tip across his knee. You let them dance, index fingers tapping away at the skin you so desperately wanted to see in this moment.

“Mr. Lee Minho, when did you see me?”

“I’m not saying it here in front of-”

“Who? Chaeyeon?”

Your prowling continued, bodies even closer as you slowly began to climb him like an inanimate object. This would have been completely awkward sober. Nothing about this was romantic in the slightest. To an outsider, or Changbin and Chaeyeon, you were right there, situated across Minho’s lap. It wasn’t quite a straddle, it was just something. They both stayed quiet, paying little attention to your animalistic act, already focused on feeling each other up. Or so you assumed, seeing as they didn’t say anything. All that was heard was the sound of the front door. You snapped your head for a quick moment, eyes scanning the emptiness the room suddenly felt.

“It was in the car.”

Minho’s words felt heavy, like he had more to say.

“The car?”

You were taken aback, face moving away from the closeness of his. Part of your brain clicked, remembering exactly what he was talking about. With Jisung. The memory of hurt was quickly forgotten as the feeling of Minho’s palms spread across your body was bringing you to life. The adrenaline came all at once. Your mind was telling you to move away, but your body was saying something else, affirming it’s position.

Minho was leaning in, barely any spaces between the two as his fingertips began to spread lower and lower, firmly gripping either side of your ass as he moved you closer. A helpless whimper escaped your lips as you felt your legs tighten, heat running down to your core, quickly. What the fuck was happening right now?

“You were on top of him,” he whispered, pulling your hips against him once more, “just like this.”

“F-fuck,” was all that managed to slip out of your lips. This was becoming difficult. So difficult to say no and move away. You knew it was the right thing to do. Things would just be awkward and you could go back to hating him. No matter how much you tried, how much you wanted to, you were powerless. Every fiber of your being was being given up to him. You leaned in closer, foreheads now touching as you looked at him. His gaze was anything but lacklustre as his jaw became tense. His body began to ache simultaneously with yours. The pressure was becoming too much.

“Do you want this?”

“What?”

A small whine escaped you at the loss of his tips gripping your body. They quickly made their way to either side of your face. Your body began to rock back and forth on it’s own. You had become desperate for any sort of friction that you could create.

“I said, do you want this?”

“Do you?”

His expression made you nervous. It was hard to read. All you could see was the black substance of his pupils enlarge, increasing in diameter by the second. Almost like a supernatural being was possessing him.

“Fuck,” you grunted, wrapping your hands around his neck to steady yourself on top of him, “you’re making it hard to say no.”

Things were already becoming hazy the longer you stayed. A huff of frustration came from him as he was giving all his effort not to give into the way you were rubbing your dampening heat against him. It was like a drug he could not refuse.

“Kiss me if you want me.”

He huffed, the edge of his lips just barely brushing against the tip of your nose.

“Kiss me, and give me the green light.”

You waited a moment, any part of your brain that wasn't concentrated solely on his palms digging into your sides trying to reason. You looked at him once more. His eyes, nose, lips. His lips.

“Fuck it.”

He was quick to work, pushing you down to lie flat against the couch. A small kiss to your lips was felt as he pulled away, lifting his arms up and throwing his shirt to the floor at Usain Bolt pace. The smirk on your face was too easy for him not to see.

“You like what you fucking see don’t you?”

“Just shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

Of course. Of course he was still that arrogant cocky motherfucker that you could not stand. The one who never cleaned up after himself. Or took too long in the shower for the hot water to run out. All of these evil perceptions you had of your roommate were disappearing as his lips were gently placed onto yours. It was a little too slow for your liking, but it was deep. Boy, was it deep. Each movement of his tongue was made with so much precision as he lowered himself onto you. His thighs were clenched, a soft groan could be heard against his lips as his groin pressed into you. Holy fuck, were you really doing this? It was so wrong. Everything in the world was saying to stop, stop this.

“Mm- wait,” you paused your hands on his chest to push him away, “wait.”

A flash of panic waved over his eyes as he quickly jumped off of you, face palming the floor.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you-”

“I’m fine,” you interjected, giggling at the never been seen care and caution he had for you, “I just don’t think we should do this.”

“Oh,” was all he could say. You kept your gaze lowered; looking at him would have made you feel so guilty. The feeling of regret started to seep into your bones, but you couldn't tell: was it regret of this ever happening, or was it regret from stopping? Your head was too muddled to even attempt to comprehend what had just appended. The only sound that could be heard was your scuffed footsteps, quickly pacing back to your room and shutting the door, hard. The loudest sigh known to earth could be heard on the opposite side of the room as you let your body collapse. The ache between your legs was growing by the second; and as much as you tried to suppress the feeling of Minho’s lips on yours, fingertips dragging along your sides. No. It was much easier this way. Setting boundaries as roommates seemed to be a better idea for the long run.

But the long run was boring. You would both have to pretend that this never happened. Having other people over for sexual purposes would just be awkward now; the more you thought about it, the realisation, and the jealousy hit that you had already crossed said boundary. And maybe that’s why your feet had dragged you to the front of his bedroom door. How the fuck did you get here? You brought your knuckles to the wooden frame, door becoming slightly ajar as you gently knocked. Minho’s snapped his head around, covering himself quickly as you walked in. You cocked your eyebrow, a face of confusion apparent on your face.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he huffed, turning back to his previous position, “what do you want?”

You wanted to just walk out. Mind your business and just leave. But it was hard, quite literally. The imprint of what you assumed to be Minho’s naked lower half painfully pressing into the sheer sheets that was covering him. He paid you no more attention, giving you all the power to initiate whatever it is you wanted to initiate. You slowly crept in beside him, nuzzling your head into the back of his neck as he groaned in annoyance.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

“Hmm, I think I changed my mind,” you whispered, reaching around to grab him. A blunt hiss escaped Minho’s lips as your action made him turn around. He was so close to you now. So close that you could feel his breath spreading across your left cheek.

“Are you being serious right now?”

The look on his face was unimpressed to say the least.

“Yeah, I mean,” your voice was calm as your hand began to take flight, sliding down to the base of his shaft, “we’ve already crossed the line, let’s go a little further.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. He grabbed you by the wrist that was currently on him, pulling it away and climbing on top of you. Both hands now leaving his side, securely attached onto both wrists as he pinned them down above your head. Nose clumsily tickling yours as he reattached his lips to yours. The feeling of his lips was much softer and calmer than before, almost like he was protecting you. Wanting to keep the moment so delicate, though the way his bare hips involuntarily grinding against your clothed core was far from it. A soft whimper came from your lips, vibrating against his. A soft chuckle was heard from Minho as he pulled away; it made you nervous. To be more specific, the way that arrogant, mischievous smirk that you knew all too well was spread across his face.

“You’re so responsive to me,” he growled, quickly planting another one on your lips before sliding down to your jaw, then your neck, stopping at your chest. Nothing needed to be said as you quickly discarded your shirt, silently thanking your past self for not wearing any underneath. Minho situated himself in front of your now bare chest, waist sitting against your heart as he took one nipple into his mouth, fingers enclosing around the other. A loud whine left your lips, back arching in reaction to him. He looked up, satisfied filling his body as you weren’t able to return his gaze, head already rolled all the way back as he continued his playful assault.

“It’s so cute,” he mumbled between kisses, “so responsive and I’ve barely done anything.”

His lips travelled down the center of your stomach, dipping dangerously closer to where you wanted him most. His continuous rhythm between kisses was immaculate. Any of the incoherent sounds you made, or the crude remarks he made were left unsaid.

“Fuck,” you hissed, painfully throbbing at the way Minho played with the waistband of your panties.

“Not fun to be teased y/n,’ he paused, making sure you were looking at him, “is it.”

A pang of guilt hit your chest for a moment. I mean, it’s not like you did it on purpose, right?

“Minho I’m-”

“Save it,” he scoffs, “whether you did it on purpose, or not, I’m not gonna let you have it so easily.”

His fingers stopped their performance across your hips, continuing a little lower than before. The smirk came to his lips once more, index finger running down your slit. The friction was fierce, but not fierce enough. You wanted, no, you needed more. All he could do was smile at your mercy.

“So fun to tease darling, but you’re gonna have to be more vocal if you want these panties off.”

“Minho please,” you whined, “for fucks sake.”

You bucked your hips forward, desperate for any more contact from the bare minimum he was giving you.

“That doesn’t sound very nice to me.”

“Minho please, please, please,” you whispered, voice becoming super weak, “fuck me, or finger me, anything please, I need to feel you.”

“Now that’s more like it,” he smiled, finally pulling your panties down. You have never lifted your hips faster in your life. The vulnerability of your naked body was somewhat confronting, but your brain was so fogged out from the immense teasing, you cared little.

“Fuck,” he gasped, spreading you effortlessly with two fingers, “you’re so wet for me, aren't you?”

The heat in your cheeks rose as you became embarrassed at his words. Minho didn’t know this, but feeling humiliated was something that could make you cum on the spot. Words intended for insult went through your ears and straight down to the core, the heat becoming like an intense fire igniting in your body as one of his hands moved along your inner thigh, the other gently beginning to circle around where you needed him most.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god Minho please, more.” Your voice was becoming needier by the second, but the longer it went on, the less you seemed to care. His tongue was now a factor coming into play, small kitty licks lapping your clit at a suddenly fast pace. Your legs are already trembling, but Minho does more to appease, hooking his arms under and around your thighs to stop the flustered look on your face. It was confronting how quickly he was getting you to your high.

“Please,” you sighed, eyes hazed as you attempted to look down at the way his tongue was on you. The combination of him sucking on your clit, then pushing it through your entrance almost made you scream. However, the noises that came from your mouth were small, heavy pants, progressively getting louder and louder the tighter the knot in your stomach became.

“Do you wanna cum princess?” His voice was whiny, mocking the tone you had used earlier. You nodded ferociously, knowing any attempt to speak would come out horse or just broken.

“Such a good girl,” he purred, replacing his tongue with two fingers, “but if you want to cum, you’re gonna have to beg for it once more.”

“You’re such a fucking dick,” you groaned, an attempt of grinding your center onto Minho’s fingers failing miserably, “you’re being so unfair.”

“I’m unfair?” he scoffed, beginning his digits back to a bare minimum pace, “you’re the one

who was teasing me all night. I know Changbin is like, your best friend so there was no chance you were bringing him back to fuck him. Then you start to kiss me, hard and fast may I add, AND THEN ! you aren’t sure and you leave me to pretend like nothing happened.”

There was no witty comeback you could say in response because he was right. You were the one who has done the teasing for most of the night.

“You looked so fucked out right now baby,” his tone coming back to a calming medium, “begging for me to make you cum, which I can do right now,” he paused, climbing back to your side, lifting your left leg to continue his easy access to ur clit, “or you can beg even more to have my cock inside of you. The choice is yours.” You swallowed, hard. How could he say something so filthy? Out of all the times you had heard him bring other girls over, he would never talk like this. It was always so nice and calm, full of praise and compassion. Maybe they didn’t act like cock teases and let him just have what he wanted.

“C-cock,” you mumbled, pushing your backside against his now pulsating cock, “please give your cock sir.”

“Ooo sir, I like that one, but you’re gonna have to do more if you want me to fill you up princess.”

Words were becoming extremely hard to not only facilitate in your mind, but put them on your tongue and get out to him. He knew this. He knew your were on the brink of collapsing in cum, but the torture was too entertaining for him nonetheless. Although you're frustrated with him was increasing, you couldn’t lie to yourself that the way he was using you like a sex toy was turning you on. After being up his ass so long with rules around the house and how you wanted things done, it was nice to finally let go. Submit to his rules instead of yours.

“P-please Minho, sir’ you panted, head turning to look at the sadistic face of enjoyment he was having from this, “I’ll do anything, a-anything to have your cock inside of me right now.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Okay then tomorrow morning, you have to make me breakfast, AND wash my dishes.”

“Seriously,” you panted, “that’s what you're thinking about right now?”

“You said anything.” He shrugged, suddenly taking his fingers away from your dripping core. A gasp of disappointment came to your lips at the loss of delicious contact. Minho sat up, ducking under your leg, and positioning himself right back to where he was previously. However, this time, he was on his knees. Although you were touching it before, you really hadn't had a chance to look at how big it was: way more than what you expected. He stroked himself a couple of times, making sure not to get carried away with himself before he pushed it between your folds, letting his pre-cum mix with your juices. He slowly descended into you. Jaws dropping simultaneously, you gasped. The way he was stretching you out did burn a little bit, but once he was fully inside, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Minho waited until the look of slight discomfort faded from your features.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip and he slowly pulled himself back out. He kept a consistent, yet slow pace as leaned in closer to you. He was now hovering over, letting his face become buried into the middle of your breasts. The feeling was so immaculate, you were desperate to cling onto something for support.

“Dig them into me,” he groaned, strangling his vocal cords, “dig your nails into my back and scratch me like your life fucking depends on it.”

Perfect. You did as he pleased, a loud moan of his name wrestling from your lips as you felt the red marks appear on his backside. The pressure from before was already building in your stomach again, and he could tell. The way you were super tight for him was one, but the way you were now clenching around him was another. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept doing that.

“Fuck,” was all you could manage to say, a deep grin plastered on his face.

“You’re close aren't you,” he cooed, attaching his lips to your neck, “talk to me baby, tell me what you're feeling.

“Mhm, yeah, fuck I’m so close baby. H-Harder.”

The pitch of your tone was becoming whinier by the second. To add to that, the way you became confused, as if Minho was a vampire, because the way he was sucking on your neck was kind of painful. Nevertheless, you relished in it, knowing too well that a very, very dark mark would replace his mouth. The idea of him showing his possession of you, knowing that he finally won you over did not make you happy, nonetheless, you were too fucked out to care.

Your legs were now pushed all the way back, pace fastening by the minute, allowing Minho to push even deeper into you. And that was it. Right there, the spot you had never even known was even there.

“Ah fuck!” Your moan was loud this time, completely unable to control anything. The smirk, in combination with the satisfied growl that left his lips was a face of pure ecstasy as he realised that he had finally hit your G-spot.

“Fuck that feels so fucking good,” Minho grumbled, “are you close? Because I think I’m gonna cum.”

It was like your stomach was an orchestra. Minho’s words were the conductor, completely controlling how close you were to your release.

“Y-yes,” you cried, “I’m gonna cum so hard right now.”

“You wanna cum baby?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna cum right now?”

“Yes baby,” you pouted, a perplexity of sounds escaping your lips, completely out of your control.

“Cum on my cock princess,” Minho whispered through what sounded to be like pained groans, “be a good girl and cum with me inside of you.”

And there it was, like it was on queue as your body completely flopped, legs shaking and a string of lewd curse words fell from your lips. The way your pussy clenched around him was enough to make him pull out, spilling into the dip of your stomach. A loud breath of what seemed to be exhaustion fell from his lips. Your eyes were previously screwed so shut, it hurt when you opened them again, sensitive to the light.

“Fuck,” you both cursed simultaneously, making one another giggle. Minho fell to your left side, flat on his back as he invited you to scooch over next to him. Face pressed against his chest, fingers playfully dragging up and down his torso. For some reason, he felt so safe and secure at this moment. Almost forgetting how he literally just fucked you into oblivion, your eyelids become heavy. It wasn’t until Minho spoke that you were revived from your alternate state of consciousness once more.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.” His voice sounded genuinely surprised, unsure if you should be offended or not. You looked up at him, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek. He wasn’t sure how to react, but the dark shade tinting his face right now said enough.

“Please,” you scoffed, “You did me good, but was that the best you can do?”

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, but down on it after, “Is that a challenge?”

You said nothing, instead sitting up and pushing your legs on either side of his hips. A soft moan escaped his lips as he felt your still dripping heat sitting on the base of him.

“Why don’t you find out and see?”

#lee minho #minho #leeknow #stray kids #lino #lee minho smut #skz smut #leeknow scenario #stray kids smut #stray kids scenario #dom leeknow #dom lee minho #dom lino #lino smut #ch4nb4ng

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qqueenofhades · 3 years ago

Note

Do you really hate this county? Or were you just ranting?

Sigh. I debated whether or not to answer this, since I usually keep the real-life/politics/depressing current events to a relative minimum on this blog, except when I really can't avoid ranting about it. But I have some things to get off my chest, it seems, and you did ask. So.

The thing is, any American with a single modicum of genuine historical consciousness knows that despite all the triumphalist mythology about Pulling Up By Our Bootstraps and the American Dream and etc, this country was founded and built on the massive and systematic exploitation and extermination of Black and Indigenous people. And now, when we are barely (400 years later!!!) getting to a point of acknowledging that in a widespread way, oh my god the screaming. I'm so sick of the American right wing I could spit for so many reasons, not least of which is the increasingly reductive and reactive attempts to put the genie back in the bottle and set up hysterical boogeymen about how Teaching Your Children Critical Race Theory is the end of all things. They have forfeited all pretense of being a real governing party; remember how their only platform at the 2020 RNC was "support whatever Trump says?" They have devolved to the point where the cruelty IS the point, to everyone who doesn't fit the nakedly white supremacist mold. They don't have anything to do aside from attempt to usher in actual, literal, dictionary-definition-of-fascism and sponsor armed revolts against the peaceful transfer of power.

That is fucking exhausting to be aware of all the time, especially with the knowledge that if we miss a single election cycle -- which is exceptionally easy to do with the way the Democratic electorate needs to be wooed and courted and herded like cats every single time, rather than just getting their asses to the polls and voting to keep Nazis out of office -- they will be right back in power again. If Manchin and Sinema don't get over their poseur pearl-clutching and either nuke the filibuster or carve out an exception for voting rights, the John Lewis Voting Rights Act is never going to get passed, no matter how many boilerplate appeals the Democratic leadership makes on Twitter. In which case, the 2022 midterms are going to give us Kevin McCarthy, Speaker of the House (I threw up in my mouth a little typing that) and right back to the Mitch McConnell Obstruction Power Hour in the Senate. The Online Left (TM) will then blame the Democrats for not doing more to stop them. These are, of course, the same people who refused to vote for Hillary Clinton out of precious moral purity reasons in 2016, handed the election to Trump, and now like to complain when the Trump-stacked Supreme Court reliably churns out terrible decisions. Gee, it's almost like elections have consequences!!

Aside from my exasperation with the death-cult right-wing fascists and the Online Left (TM), I am sick and tired of how forty years of "trickle-down" Reaganomics has created a world where billionaires can just fly to space for the fun of it, while the rest of America (and the world) is even more sick, poor, overheated, economically deprived, and unable to survive the biggest public health crisis in a century, even if half the elected leadership wasn't actively trying to sabotage it. Did you know that half of American workers can't even afford a one-bedroom apartment? Plus the obvious scandal that is race relations, health care, paid leave, the education system (or lack thereof), etc etc. I'm so tired of this America Is The Greatest Country in the World mindless jingoistic catchphrasing. We are an empire in the late stages of collapse and it's not going to be pretty for anyone. We have been poisoned on sociopathic-libertarian-selfishness-disguised-as-Freedom ideology for so long that that's all there is left. We have become a country of idiots who believe everything their idiot friends post on social media, but in a very real sense, it's not directly those individuals' fault. How could they, when they have been very deliberately cultivated into that mindset and stripped of critical thinking skills, to serve a noxious combination of money, power, and ideology?

I am tired of the fact that I have become so drained of empathy that when I see news about more people who refused to get the vaccine predictably dying of COVID, my reaction is "eh, whatever, they kind of deserved it." I KNOW that is not a good mindset to have, and I am doing my best to maintain my personal attempts to be kind to those I meet and to do my small part to make the world better. I know these are human beings who believed what they were told by people that they (for whatever reason) thought knew better than them, and that they are part of someone's family, they had loved ones, etc. But I just can't summon up the will to give a single damn about them (I'm keeping a bingo card of right-wing anti-vax radio hosts who die of COVID and every time it's like, "Alexa, play Another One Bites The Dust.") The course that the pandemic took in 21st-century America was not preordained or inevitable. It was (and continues to be) drastically mismanaged for cynical political reasons, and the legacy of the Former Guy continues to poison any attempts to bring it under control or convince people to get a goddamn vaccine. We now have over 100,000 patients hospitalized with COVID across the country -- more than last summer, when the vaccines weren't available.

I have been open about my fury about the devaluation of the humanities and other critical thinking skills, about the fact that as an academic in this field, my chances of getting a full-time job for which I have trained extensively and acquired a specialist PhD are... very low. I am tired of the fact that Americans have been encouraged to believe whatever bullshit they fucking please, regardless of whether it is remotely true, and told that any attempt to correct them is "anti-freedom." I am tired of how little the education system functions in a useful way at all -- not necessarily due to the fault of teachers, who have to work with what they're given, and who are basically heroes struggling stubbornly along in a profession that actively hates them, but because of relentless under-funding, political interference, and furious attempts, as discussed above, to keep white America safely in the dark about its actual history. I am tired of the fact that grade school education basically relies on passing the right standardized tests, the end. I am tired of the implication that the truth is too scary or "un-American" to handle. I am tired. Tired.

I know as well that "America" is not synonymous in all cases with "capitalist imperialist white-supremacist corporate death cult." This is still the most diverse country in the world. "America" is not just rich white middle-aged Republicans. "America" involves a ton of people of color, women, LGBTQ people, Muslims, Jews, Christians of good will (I have a whole other rant on how American Christianity as a whole has yielded all pretense of being any sort of a principled moral opposition), white allies, etc etc. all trying to make a better world. The blue, highly vaccinated, Biden-winning states and counties are leading the economic recovery and enacting all kinds of progressive-wishlist dream policies. We DID get rid of the Orange One via the electoral process and avert fascism at the ballot box, which is almost unheard-of, historically speaking. But because, as also discussed above, certain elements of the Democratic electorate need to fall in love with a candidate every single time or threaten to withhold their vote to punish the rest of the country for not being Progressive Enough, these gains are constantly fragile and at risk of being undone in the next electoral cycle. Yes, the existing system is a crock of shit. But it's what we've got right now, and the other alternative is open fascism, which we all got a terrifying taste of over the last four years. I don't know about you, but I really don't want to go back.

So... I don't know. I don't know if that stacks up to hate. I do hate almost everything about what this country currently is, structurally speaking, but I recognize that is not identical with the many people who still live here and are trying to do their best, including my friends, family, and myself. I am exhausted by the fact that as an older millennial, I am expected to survive multiple cataclysmic economic crashes, a planet that is literally boiling alive, a barely functional political system run on black cash, lies, and xenophobia, a total lack of critical thinking skills, renewed assaults on women/queer people/POC/etc, and somehow feel like I'm confident or prepared for the future. Not all these problems are only America's fault alone. The West as a whole bears huge responsibility for the current clusterfuck that the world is in, for many reasons, and so do some non-Western countries. But there is no denying that many of these problems have ultimate American roots. See how the ongoing fad for right-wing authoritarian strongmen around the world has them modeling themselves openly on Trump (like Brazil's lunatic president, Jair Bolsonaro, who talks all the time about how Trump is his political role model). See what's going on in Afghanistan right now. Etc. etc.

Anyway. I am very, very tired. There you have it.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #covid for ts #i had a lot to say evidently #rant

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ptergwen · 3 years ago

Text

favorite crime

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood / death, lots n lots of angst

summary: you convince peter to go on the run after he’s framed for murdering mysterio, but he doesn’t want to drag you into his mess

a/n: this was completely based off the song by olivia lfmbsjfhs it’s so beautiful and i’ve wanted to write something for it for a while now so yee i hope y’all like ! pls lmk what you think <3

“we have to get you out of here, peter! come on!” you shout back to your boyfriend and tug his hand that’s laced with yours.

peter doesn’t budge. even when your grip on him tightens, when you pull him forward with all your might, he remains stoic.

there’s something he needs to do, and he’s been contemplating it since the day he met you.

it’s time to let you go.

“please, peter. i’m begging. i know you’re tired of running, but if we don’t leave now… they’ll find you,” you desperately choke out. peter squeezes his eyes shut, dreading what’s to come. “i can’t do this to you anymore, y/n. i… i’m sorry.”

emergency sirens and flashing lights approach the old apartment building serving as yours and peter’s latest hideout. the whole world is on the lookout for him, so you two stowed yourselves away in brooklyn for a bit.

you were hopeful the rumors would pass eventually — about how peter shot the beloved mysterio and left him to die in cold blood. they’re merely talk, of course. you’d personally seen the events of that day unfold on the tower bridge. hell, your class was right at the center of them.

quentin beck was pure evil, so rotten he defamed both peter and spider-man with a charge as cruel as murder. he’s wreaking havoc on him from beyond the grave, over a complete misunderstanding that peter had nothing to do with.

beck’s true source of anger is stark industries. yet, once again, peter ended up the collateral damage.

he was deemed a wanted murderer. posters revealing his name and face were plastered up around the city, a reward even being offered to whoever who turns him in.

you’d proposed the idea of skipping town until things settled. the way you saw it, it was peter’s only option other than prison for twenty-five to life. peter was panicking and couldn’t think straight, so he went along with your getaway plan.

a few weeks later, he’s regretting it.

you’ve been the one person he could trust through this madness. you’re right there to console him, to protect him just like he does you. through sickness and health, life and clearly death, you stick by peter’s side. you left everything behind without a second thought, for him.

peter loves you more than you’ll ever fully be able to comprehend, which is why he can’t ask you to do that. this is his battle to fight, not yours or anyone else’s. his.

you suddenly freeze in your tracks, turning around to look at peter. “what are you talking about? you’re fine, pete.”

his eyes roam everywhere except to yours as they water. blinking back tears, he fixes his gaze on your intertwined hands. you notice a stray tear fall down his cheek and use one of your thumbs to wipe it away, then press a reassuring kiss to his lips. peter lets himself reciprocate momentarily before jerking back.

“please just… stop being so nice to me. you’re making this way harder than i wanted to to be,” he rasps and squeezes your hand tighter. you’re still lost, absolutely clueless about what he’s referring to.

“look, pete. i wanna hear you out, baby. but… i think it should wait until we get to jersey.” you keep your voice as calm as possible, though you’re terrified for both of you. since the feds know your location, they’ll have the place surrounded any minute.

hopping cities isn’t cutting it anymore, so you’ll have to change states this time. new jersey is next on your list.

using his strength to his advantage to hold you in place, peter seizes both your shoulders. his bloodshot eyes lock with yours. a stern expression coats his features, one you’ve seen from him yet never been on the receiving end of.

“we’re not going to jersey, y/n/n,” he declares, the sirens starting to grow louder. you feel a pit forming in your stomach. “we have to!” you immediately protest. “it’s not gonna be easy finding our way, but it’s the last-“

peter cuts you off, voice softer now. “no, no. that’s not what i meant.” he waits a beat and inhales a deep breath, aiming to settle his nerves. it doesn’t.

“i’m going to jersey. you’re staying.”

tears cloud your vision the second those words leave his mouth. you shake your head furiously back and forth, willing him to take them back.

part of you was always afraid peter would get second thoughts. not only about running away with you, about ever being with you. you’re both so young. your entire lives are ahead of you, and peter won’t allow you to risk your own because this isn’t worth a single bit of it.

he’d warned you how dangerous it was to be associated with spider-man. it’s why he held off on telling you about his alias for the longest he could. you naturally began asking questions whenever peter bailed on dates and showed up to school covered in bruises. he hated lying to you, using his stark internship as an excuse, so he finally came out and said it.

peter sometimes wonders if you’d be better off not knowing at all. it’s too late now, though.

“wait, what? why- why can’t i go with you?” you plead, peter’s fingers coming up to cup your cheek. his fingertips lightly caress your skin. “i’m a criminal, y/n. you’d be my accessory.”

it takes everything in him not to break down and sob along with you.

you lean into his palm, already missing his touch. “i don’t care... i don’t give a fuck. i just wanna be with you, peter.” peter literally has to bite his tongue to fight the urge to cry. hands grabbing either side of his head, your fingers twist in his hair roughly. “i’ll do anything, pete. i really will, i swear. name it.”

peter threads his own fingers through yours again, bringing your hands to his chest.

“i’m so sorry, angel. i never should’ve gotten you involved,” he murmurs out and pecks your forehead. “you have nothing to prove to me, okay? you’ve done more than enough. i’m gonna return the favor.”

you let out a strangled whine, your knees buckling as you come to terms with the gravity of your situation.

this is it. this is the end of yours and peter’s story.

“hey, none of that. it’s okay,” peter coos, neither of you convinced. the tastes of salt and metal flood both your senses. he helps you back up and hugs your waist, peppering your cheeks in more kisses. you’re bawling now, arms wound around his neck, clutching at his tattered jacket.

free tears escape peter’s eyes at last. “i love you. i love you so goddamn much, y/n. never forget it,” he nearly whispers. you sniffle and push your forehead against his. “i’m not saying it back ‘cuz that feels like a goodbye, and i- i can’t say goodbye to you yet.”

“it’s not a goodbye,” peter reassures you, rubbing circles on your lower back. “it’s, uh, it’s a see you later. i’m gonna figure something out and be back to you before you know it. can’t get rid of me that easy.”

that earns a faint giggle from you, peter managing a grin. you two attempt to ignore everything happening beyond these walls, only focusing on the other.

“then, um…” you clear your throat. “i love you.” his smile dwindling slightly, peter nods and meets your gaze. “i love you too, baby. you should probably get going soon.”

affirming his advice, a booming voice that sounds from a microphone commands peter to come out with his hands up.

your worry spikes, instinctively drawing peter in closer. he forces himself to put on a brave face for you.

“i’m scared, pete. where… where am i supposed to go?” you rush to ask him. “home, y/n/n. go home,” peter decides, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head. “just don’t get caught, and you’ll be fine.” carding your fingers in his undone curls, you sigh. “easier said than done, but i’ll try not to.”

you’d never pictured that the sweet boy with a heart too big and brain even bigger, who sings you to sleep even though his voice sucks and spends his last dollar buying you flowers, would be accused of first degree murder. it isn’t true or fucking fair.

what’s worse, he has to bare this storm alone now.

you lift your heavy backpack off the cold ground, slinging it onto your shoulders. peter stares out the window and down at the assembly of swarm troops crowded together.

“are you gonna be okay?” you catch his attention. he snaps back into reality, pulling your hood up so it covers your head. you’re wearing a sweatshirt of his, after having gone through all your own clothes. “i hope so. are you?” peter repeats your question. “i hope so,” you echo.

tying your hoodie strings tight, peter offers a smile. “say hi to may for me. ned and mj, too.” it’s going to be tough to face his family and friends after this. “i will. i’ll let them know you’re alright.” you kiss his cheek, placing a hand on his chest. peter lets your touch distract him from the mess he’s about to be hit with.

“thank you, y/n. i’ll see you soon, baby. you have my word,” he promises, stepping back so you two can go your separate ways.

you watch him with fresh tears threatening to spill.

“i’m gonna hold you to it. be safe, spidey.”

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duskamethyst · 4 years ago

Text

make it right.

a/n: i was on a writing high. i initially hated this so much but ended up with 12 pages long.

word count: 5.1k

genre: mature, smut, nsfw, angst to fluff

warnings: mentions of abortion, pregnancy

pairing: hawks x f!reader

𝅘𝅥𝅮 music rec: the reason by hoobastank 𝅘𝅥𝅮

summary: you told keigo that you’re carrying his child but he didn’t take it well. five years later he shows up in front of your door after being invited by his son and says he wants to fix everything.

you lean down towards the counter as you concentrate on creating pretty swirls of cream on the cake you baked with a piping bag. the dining table is full of food, a feast almost too huge for only two people, but you have a good excuse. it is a special day. your son’s fifth birthday to be exact.

kids these days can be ruthless and your son doesn’t get along very well with the other kids from his kindergarten. they like picking on others that seem too fragile, too quiet – criteria that fits him well and it doesn’t help with the fact that they know he’s growing up without a father. your child never opened up to you about the constant mocking he faced until one day you overheard him sobbing through his pillow in his own room. it was dark, though the door was still open by an inch to allow a small amount of light to penetrate into the room whenever he slept. he said he wanted to sleep earlier because he was tired but the muffling sounds he tried to conceal betrayed his efforts when you passed by later that night.

it made you angry and disappointed in yourself. you really tried your best to juggle between being a mom and a dad at the same time, keeping an eye on your child and working your ass off to make a living for the two of you. you’d always put up a tough front, never broke down in front of him when you were dead tired from being overworked and the thought of him trying to not make you worry, shattered your heart into pieces. you know that all he deserves is a good life and you constantly blame yourself for not being good enough, mostly angry at your past self for not even knowing how to make good decisions and think things through.

if only you could turn back time, you would tell yourself to never get involved with a pro hero – to never get involved with someone who feels so responsible for other strangers’ lives but not their own child’s.

were you being selfish? for not understanding that his work always comes first? he can’t possibly have a family when he has villains out there that need to be put in their right place for their crimes. were you expecting too much from him?

“can’t you… get rid of it?” he muttered. his cold words felt like a sharp blade that just stabbed you in the heart. never once you thought that he would say that. how easy was it for him to ask you to throw out another life like it meant nothing?

“keigo, you can’t be serious.” you shook your head, your legs were already wobbling and you felt sick to your stomach. this news should be happy for the both of you but unfortunately, you two weren’t on the same page.

was it your fault? keigo never spoke about having a child together but he always said he’d love to build a family with you someday – he loved you, he would always protect you and be there for you. sure, it was a slip up this time. you always made sure to take proper measures to avoid pregnancy from happening but you were also more than glad to bear this child and you were convinced that keigo would be happy about it as much as you were. he loved you so much, after all.

“i don’t think…” he stammered, trying to find the right words. “give me some time.”

your lips pursed into a thin line, hands clenching hard and knuckles turning white. think? the uncertainty in his voice was already giving you the obvious answer. he couldn’t even look you in the eyes. he never wanted this.

“save the trouble, keigo.” you spat. “how about i’ll just leave so you don’t even have to think at all?”

keigo finally lifted up his head to look at you with wavering eyes, but he still couldn’t find the words to say, to comfort you. “what are you saying?”

“i’m still going to have this child. even if it means i have to do it alone.” with a sharp breath, you turned around towards the door.

you heard a frustrating sigh coming from your back, “you know i can’t. you know damn well that i have my job as a hero and i can’t look after… after a child!”

“but it’s your child keigo!” you turned around to scream and look at him again, tears already welling in your eyes, threatening to pour out.

“and what difference does that make?!” he yelled back. “in fact, that’s even worse!”

the room was quiet as the both of you just stood there. keigo slowly realizing what just came out of his mouth in the heat of the moment while you just stared at him in disbelief. both were standing stunned and speechless from what he clearly said. that was it, you thought.

“fuck you.” you cursed under your breath and immediately left his place, not even sparing a look back.

if he was sorry, he would chase after you. if he didn’t mean it, he would look everywhere for you.

but none of that happened.

you ended up going back to your hometown after that. it was shameful, to finally see your parents again but just to cry on their feet as soon as you saw their faces and telling them that you were carrying an illegitimate child. it was devastating for them initially but thankfully they easily accepted it, welcoming you to stay over at their place with open arms so they could help you throughout your pregnancy until the baby was born and grown. above all, you were still their daughter. living far away, your parents had never met keigo and they were shocked to know that you were having the no.2 pro hero’s baby but also disappointed at how he reacted when you told him the news.

however, what was done is done and you can only manage to move forward by raising the child with your utmost capability. you promised yourself that you’ll protect and raise this child with as much love and care a mother can offer. whatever it takes, even if you’ll have to do it by yourself.

you ended up living with your parents until your son turned four and decided to live independently, not wanting to burden them any longer. they didn’t want to let you go, the presence of the child brought so much joy in their daily lives. he was a bundle of sunshine and they loved him so much.

and kyō is just beautiful.

keigo’s genes manage to overpower your son compared to yours. fluffy but shorter blonde hair, dark and sharp on the inner corner of the eyes and not to forget the red wings on his back. it isn’t as big as keigo’s yet but it still stands out. although he takes on your personality more, every part of him reminds you of keigo and sometimes it feels like a jab to your chest. it hurts to be reminded of the man that hurt you and told you to get rid of the child you were bearing so ruthlessly.

throughout the years, you tried to make peace with the past. at first, it was hard to look at the news and see his face. he was almost everywhere, a lot of stores also sold his merchandise and his face even covered the magazines-- you realized you couldn’t escape him, your past. although he’s in the limelight, the media was still unaware about his private life and you were glad alas the similar features of kyō to the pro hero made some passersby and mothers at the park question you. fortunately, you already came up with a bullshit excuse like “he is such a big fan of hawks and he cosplays him every day… and oh, the wings are fake too.”

of course, strangers weren’t the only ones who inquired about it. even the little child himself could smartly notice his resemblance with the pro hero.

as soon as he first saw hawks on tv, he went on and on about how they looked so much alike. he was beyond fascinated, he could barely understand what the news was talking about at the time but being on the screen was more than enough to make him understand that hawks was an amazing guy. his eyes would twinkle in wonder when the news caught footage of him flying in the air with his red wings spreading graciously. if anything at all, kyō just couldn’t wait to flap his own smaller wings soon.

then one thing led to another. a question that any curious child would ask their parents about.

oftentimes kyō would ask you about his dad. why didn’t he have one like the other children he played with at the park and oftentimes you would try to avoid the topic and shrugged it off with a lame joke saying how you were also his dad and how you were powerful to have two bodies in one unlike other people.

he ended up growing tired of it one day, crying to you and asked if the reason why he didn’t have one was because he didn’t love him – something he heard one of the kids said. it broke you and you were lost for words. you called your parents for support and after much discussion, your mother thought he deserved to at least know the truth and you did just that.

luckily, he took it surprisingly well. even his little brain can comprehend the job of a top hero, he understood that it was a lot of work and keigo was often busy and far away. it was less to his liking when you made him promise you to not tell anyone about it and he should keep it as a secret because bad guys would chase after him if another single soul would know and his dad did it to protect him. it was a bad lie, but still, you had to do it.

later, kyō realized that his birthday was coming soon. he knew what he had always wanted. he didn’t know if he could have it but maybe… maybe if he tried and wished hard enough, it would come true.

he sneakily took your phone to look up “hawks'' on your phone, though at first he was only shown results and pictures of the literal bird before smartly adding “pro hero” at the back. with limited comprehension, he eventually managed to find the agency’s website before scrolling further to find the address to the agency and scribbled it down on a piece of paper.

“daddy?!” the bell has been ringing for a few times but you were too concentrated on decorating the birthday cake to even hear it but your son’s small wings flutter in excitement as he runs across the hallway to open the door.

your heart stops for a second. was that the reason why your son was pacing around the living room? you’re not expecting any guests for tonight’s dinner at all, especially the father of your child.

“hey! i got your letter!” the familiar excited tone of his voice bursts from the door as he speaks. he kneels down eye-level as his son and gives him a big hug. “happy birthday.”

“what letter?” you break into the conversation, arms folded in front of your chest as you lean against the wall with an unamused expression written across your face.

“i wrote daddy a letter!” your son says proudly, but you can already imagine the horrible squiggly lines on the handwritten letter.

“and you gave me a picture too. you look exactly like me, am so happy!” keigo chuckles, ruffling the hair of his boy, eliciting little giggles from the other. it’s a beautiful sight and it makes your heart ache a little at the image of what it could’ve been. if only he was fully ready to accept the fact that he was gonna bear a child. if only he knew how to balance between his career and personal life. you could’ve had the most beautiful family you’ve ever dreamed of.

“honey, can you go to your room for a bit? your daddy and i have to talk.” you say softly, hoping that he won’t take it any other way.

“am i.. in trouble?” kyō turns to you with a frown and puppy eyes – which he knows well that it would always work on you and it’s almost adorable how it’s exactly what keigo would do whenever he makes you annoyed with his antics. it’s just one of his ways to apologize to you.

you sigh and shake your head, “no. we’re gonna talk about…” you glance elsewhere as you think of an excuse. “your surprise present!”

“it’s not a surprise anymore if you say it like that, mommy!” the child laughs and scurries to his room as told and the both of you watch him with a smile tugged on your lips.

you turn back to keigo with a dour expression as soon as your son closes the door to his room, causing him to fidget a bit from his spot. he hasn’t seen it for years, after all. he’s about to pull you into a hug but instead, you quickly turn your heels around towards the kitchen.

“i still have things to do. either you help me with it or leave.”

he quickly takes off his shoes and follows you, taking in the view around the house before he enters the kitchen. the atmosphere is stuffy and tense while you sit on the stool to continue decorating the cake.

“you can help by setting up the plates. top cabinet.” you break the awkward silence and keigo obliges, he reaches the cabinet to take out the available plates and put them nicely around the table.

“you made it yourself?” he tries to make a conversation as he glances at you working on the cake.

“yeah.” you simply reply without taking your eyes off from your work.

“it’s nice. chocolate?”

“obviously.”

keigo sighs from the underwhelming response, “i know you don’t want me here but –”

“no shit.” you almost slam the table but quickly recompose yourself by taking a deep breath. for the sake of your son, you know you shouldn’t get into an argument right now, at least not today.

“look, i’ll leave as soon as this is over if that’s what you want.”

you glare at him, “it’s more than what i want right now,” then it’s your turn to sigh. “but i doubt that’s what kyō would want.”

keigo already knows his name from the letter but his lips etch into a warm smile at the sound of the name you’ve given to the-- his child and a small part of him wishes that he was there in the process of choosing a name for the boy together with you.

“okay, just for tonight. we’ll pretend like we’re a happy family.” you stand up from the stool after putting the last candle and set the cake in the middle of the table.

“...and what if we don’t have to?” he blurts out after a brief and quiet moment, immediately catching your attention. he notices the puzzled look on your face and continues, “what if we really start being a happy family from now and onwards?”

you blink once, twice. for a second, you feel a heavy pang in your chest as your brain processes the words that just came out from his mouth. it’s like déjà vu, only this time keigo has certainty in his voice.

the room falls dead silent again as you stare at each other. you’re finding words and about to open your mouth to say something but kyō suddenly interrupts from the corner of the kitchen and both of your attentions quickly turn to him.

“mommy..? i’m hungry.”

“oh, sweetheart. you’re just in time!” you walk up to kyō to carry him in your arms before bringing him to the dining table. his eyes sparkle at the variety of food spread across the table and his wings flutter in excitement.

“can you help light up the candles? the lighter is in the drawer.” you usher to keigo as you show your son his favorite food you made earlier while keigo quickly rummages through the drawer. he lights up each candle as you put down kyō on one of the chairs before he stands on his knees to reach close enough to blow the candles. the both of you excitedly sing happy birthday and clap your hands as he blows off the candles after a brief moment for a wish.

“what did you wish for?” keigo asks, affectionately patting kyō on the head.

“i wish to be a hero like daddy!” he exclaims, arms and wings spread in enthusiasm. a bittersweet feeling engulfs him-- a part of him is disappointed and ashamed of himself while another part of him is elated and relieved that he’s still looked up upon by his own child. in the corner of his heart, keigo thinks he doesn’t deserve it. kyō is a splitting image of himself (minus the color of his eyes that he takes after you) and it easily brings back visions of him from the past. he wanted to be a hero too, but his father wasn’t someone he could look up to. hence, making endeavor the only man he idolized.

he realizes he is lucky enough to be the person his son looks up to. he knows that this was what his own younger self would want. a father he can be proud of, a hero at that. keigo wants to make it right with whatever it’ll take.

the night proceeds smoothly, all three of you have fun together like any normal family would and bonding over lost times. keigo is thoughtful (though his choice seems a little bit conceited) enough to give kyō a present; an action figure of himself. unknowingly, the walls that you built around you by the time keigo arrived earlier slowly crumbles and you grow less wary around him as time ticks by. when it’s bedtime for the boy, keigo insists on putting him to bed so he can spend more time with him which you gladly consented to so you can also continue cleaning up the kitchen.

a set of footsteps coming down the stairs can be heard as you’re seated on one of the stools while sipping tea.

“want some tea?” you offer without turning around to look at the male.

“sure.” he says as he walks up to you.

you can feel his tall and lean build ghosting you from the back as you pour a cup for him but his hands suddenly reach your shoulders and give them light squeezes.

“what are you doing?” you ask quizzically, glancing at the hand on your shoulder.

“giving you a massage.” he smiles innocently as he continues pressing on the knot in your stiff shoulders, making you sigh in reflex.

“trying to get on my good side?” you say in a mocking tone.

“hmm, just showing my appreciation to you.” his hands move lower to your spine, your back arches a little as he presses down your aching muscles.

“you’re five years too late, keigo.” you sneer but welcome his service as you close your eyes and hum in content. it’s not that bad, you assure yourself in your head.

keigo diligently continues to massage your back as the kitchen now fills with your quiet sighs and whimpers whenever he rubs on the sore spot. without you realizing, he slyly pulls the collar of your baggy shirt down and plants soft kisses on your bare shoulder.

“k-keigo?” you immediately open your eyes and flinch at the sudden touch.

he remains quiet while his hands work up and down your arms gently and his lips move further up to your earlobe, sending tingling sensations down to your core and you can already feel your nipples harden underneath your shirt.

“relax.” his hot breath fans over your ear as he whispers. your cheeks are already burning red and you’re out of sarcastic remarks as you can only find yourself to indulge into his touches.

you gasp in surprise when keigo’s hands sneakily move under your shirt and quickly unsnaps your bra. he massages your breasts and kneads them gently before teasing your erect nipple between his fingers. your hands firmly clenches the edge of the island to hold yourself as he nips on the crook of your neck, just gently to carefully not leave a mark.

“you want more, babybird?” he coos as he realizes that your thighs are pressing against each other. as much as you hate to admit it, the nostalgic pet name tugs on your heartstrings and you find yourself melting after hearing it after years again.

feeling embarrassed, you quietly nod your head.

“i can’t hear you.” a teasing tone lingers in his voice. he knows what he’s doing and you hate him for it.

“more, keigo...” you whine. it sounds so innocent and adorable but it absolutely makes his cock twitch. noticing that you’ve been avoiding looking at him the whole time, he uses one of his hands to make you look at him and grins when he catches the red tint spread across your face before he presses his lips onto yours.

the traces of your ego make you hesitate at first but you’re quick to lose it as he deepens it, as if to send you a silent message of how much he misses you while his tongue intertwines with yours.

one of his hands remains to massage your mound while the other travels down south to easily part your legs and cups your heated sex. keigo rubs the clit against the fabric of your pants, eliciting breathy moans from your lips between kisses. you pull away and lean back to his body as he slides his hand under your pants, feeling the wet patch that is already staining your underwear.

“already wet from all of that?” he says playfully, taking out his hand to look at the damp juices as he rubs it between his fingers.

“says the man that was grinding his cock on my back.” you roll your eyes halfheartedly, missing the faint blush that becomes apparent on his cheeks.

keigo then reaches for the cups in front of you and pushes them aside before lifting you up on the kitchen island, making you turn towards him. he swiftly pulls down your pants along with your underwear, your cunt bare and glistening under the lights for him to see.

his golden irises lock with yours as he kicks the stool to the side and crouches down to spread your thighs apart. he starts to lap off your juices, tongue alternating between your throbbing clit and hole. your elbows help to prop you up as your head hangs back and your eyes close in pure bliss.

keigo smacks and clenches your thighs to draw your attention to him, “baby, look at me.”

you submissively lift your head to look at him, eyes locking with each other again as he watches you squirm on the tongue flicking your clit and eats you out like a starved man having his first meal after a long day.

you grab a lock of his blonde hair in one hand, pushing him closer as your legs tremble around his head, feeling the bubbling sensation of your orgasm building up.

“mmh – gonna cum!” you cry out in ecstasy, instantly forgetting the people next door and your son that’s sound asleep on the upper floor as you chase after your high.

keigo smoothly slides two fingers inside your pussy and your hips begin to grind desperately onto them. he knows you’re close when he feels the walls clenching around him and with another suck on the clit, he quickly gets to tip you over the edge.

“so good for me.” he coos as he pulls away, licking his fingers clean before carrying your panting body in his arms and walks over to sprawl your body on the couch. he hovers on top of you and kisses you again while his hands work on unzipping and taking off his lower garments to free his throbbing cock.

he smears the precum by pumping his cock as he watches you down, adoring the look of absolute bliss on your face and half lidded eyes that he longed for over the years.

“my songbird,” he purrs as he leans down to you and lines his cock with your wet cunt, “you’re so beautiful.”

if you’re already red, the endearing pet name makes you even redder. your gaze avoids his to hide your embarrassment but he only draws it back gently by your chin with his thumb and finger.

“don’t you miss me?” his brows furrowed as he searches your face. you can only stare back into his eyes – bright irises filled with nothing but genuine curiosity and desolation.

your lips pull into a thin line as you ponder for a moment, promptly unable to vocalize like earlier. it’s as if you let even one word escape your mouth, it would make you burst into tears instead. of course you missed him. your mind often wondered if he even thought of you at least once. even when you did make peace with the past, you still couldn’t bring yourself to be the one to make the first step. ego is an ugly thing and you were certain that keigo should be the one to look for you even if it was hard for him since you just disappeared out of his life.

noticing the reluctance to give him an answer, he shushes you. “it’s okay.” he kisses you sweetly on your nose. “but let me show how much i’ve missed you.”

he trails open mouthed kisses down your jaw, neck and collarbone as your hands run through his hair and down to his back. a soft whine manages to escape from your mouth when he nibbles on the soft flesh of your neck, instantly marking it red this time.

his mouth then latches onto your nipple through your shirt, making you squirm beneath him. your hands clenches to the fabric of his shirt when you feel his fingers teasingly dancing between your wet folds and his thumb ghosting over your clit.

keigo gives you a kiss on the lips again before pulling away, the cushion dips as he props himself on the knees, rubbing his hard cock against your wet slits and smearing it with your juices.

a low hiss slips from his lips as he slowly prods in the tip of his cock and your expression twists into discomfort as you feel him stretch you out more – a familiar mixture of pain and pleasure that you haven’t felt for a while.

keigo waits for you to adjust and as soon as you give him the greenlight, he continues to completely balls deep inside you.

“babybird, you feel so good.” he grunts as he bucks his hips and slowly starts to move.

you bite your lower lip hard, enough to draw blood as you try to stifle your moans. keigo leans down to kiss you while your arms find themselves wrapping around his neck. he thrusts harder and faster and your whimpers and whines finally find themselves shamelessly slipping past from your mouth.

“fucking– hah– perfect.” he pants as he pulls away to look at your flustered face, eyes half closed and mouth agape with pleasure.

you quickly bury your face on the crook of his neck and hold onto him tighter while your legs wrap securely around his waist. keigo moves his thumb on your clit, pressing down and rubbing circles all to entice nothing but tightening the coil down in your core more.

“keigo, keigo –” you cry as your nails dig the fabric on his back and your toes curl to the intense sensation.

“baby wants to cum?” he growls as he feels your walls clamping around his cock, making him buck his hips even wilder.

“yesyesyes – oh god, keigo!” your mind turns putty and unable to form any more coherent words, making only his name being the only thing you remember as your eyes close shut while you’re nearing your high.

“that’s it – baby. cum on my cock.” he encourages and you do just that. your pussy flutters as you finally reach your orgasm but his sporadic thrusts doesn’t stop until it starts to falter and his wings tremble.

“fuck. i’m gonna fill you up.” he grits through his teeth and his cock twitches before his wings spread wider as he releases his warm cum inside you.

the both of your bodies stay against each other, chests heaving for air before he briefly pulls out his cock and lays on top of your chest.

“yes.” your voice suddenly croaks, breaking the almost silent air in the room if not for the sound of yours and his breathing.

keigo lifts up his head to look at you confusingly before a lopsided smile curls on his lips when he hears you utter the next few words.

“yes. i missed you and i don’t want to pretend anymore.” you suddenly feel overwhelmed and tears start to well in your eyes. a flash of panic crosses his face and he pulls you closer into his embrace, hoping to calm you down as you sniffle on his chest.

“shh, baby. i’m sorry. i know it’s too late and i was so fucking stupid but i’ll – ”

“i want to live as a happy family with you, keigo.” you cut him off, sobbing through his shirt. he pulls away at once to look at you, unable to believe what he just heard through the choking sob but it still makes even him want to cry.

“babybird, i – ” he’s completely tongue-tied. at this point he can only manage to lean down to be close to you again. he peppers kisses all over your face, saying how thankful and happy he is.

“i love you, my little bird. i won’t fuck up this time, i promise.” he whispers, finally regaining his composure.

that night, keigo could barely sleep a wink. so many thoughts are running through his head. he glances at you sleeping peacefully next to him on the bed and he already pictures how it is to be waking up to see your face every morning. he also hopes that kyō doesn’t know how to fly yet so he could teach him how to use his wings. oh, he’ll also get to find an excuse to buy more buckets of chickens once you three will start living together.

he can already imagine how the headlines will be bombarded about him having a family and he sighs at the thought, but he hopes that his publicist is ready for a hell lot of work.

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tyongxnct · 4 years ago

Text

𝑤𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 - 𝐿𝑒𝑒 𝐽𝑒𝑛𝑜

pairing: Jeno x reader

special guest: Jaemin

summary: Jeno and you used to be deeply in love. Your relationship was almost too good to be true. But after a while, the perfect relationship was anything but perfect. No more talking about your problems, just yelling and shouting until you had enough. The lack of communication destroyed your relationship and moving on was harder than you two thought.

song: we don’t talk anymore - Selena Gomez

genre: angst, breakup!au

warnings: swearing

word count: 3.7k

A/N: can’t believe that i’m almost done with the series, omg. I hope you enjoy this 💖

taglist: @alex-chann, @aesthetichrj

We don't talk anymore We don't talk anymore We don't talk anymore Like we used to do We don't love anymore What was all of it for? Oh, we don't talk anymore Like we used to do

Your relationship with Jeno was almost perfect, a love just like the ones written in fairytales. You were snow white and he was prince charming, he saved you when you were at your lowest. He held your hand and never let go. You were Arielle and he was prince Eric. You would give up anything for him just like Arielle gave up her voice to be with Eric. Your love was so strong, so real, and so simple. The key was communication. You always talked to each other no matter what was going on. Whether it was about jealousy, decisions about the future, family problems or difficulties with friends. You talked about everything and anything and you always found a solution. Whenever you had a disagreement you talked about it and all the problems were solved like that.

But your relationship didn’t end with a happy ending like all the fairytales did.

The communication stopped and your relationship slowly fell apart.

“How was your day?” you asked him. Jeno was busy with his phone and you tried to get his attention.

“Good.”

Next try.

“I talked to my mother this morning. She missed us and I told her we would visit her this weekend I hope that’s okay for you.”

Jeno’s face lit up with anger. “I told you I was busy. You can’t just tell her that we’ll visit. A no is a no, Y/n. I don’t have time to visit your family what’s so hard to understand?”

“I know that you’re busy, but I thought that you should relax a little and stop worrying about work-“

“You want me to relax and stop worry about work? Who’s gonna pay the bills If I just relax?” he hissed. He had a long day, and he wasn’t in the mood to talk to you.

“It’s just for one weekend-“

“Cancel it. Or you know what? Just go without me. Go visit your mother and let me relax at home without you nagging about everything for once.” Jeno left the living room and entered the kitchen. A bottle of beer would help him calm down, he thought.

“We’re not done, Jeno. Can you just consider it without being an ass?”

“I’m not going to discuss this with you. I’m exhausted. Let me be, for god’s sake.”

You left him alone in the kitchen just like he wanted to be, you entered your bedroom and got changed to go to sleep. You weren’t sure If you changed, but Jeno changed for sure. He’s cold and always so moody. You couldn’t even have a simple conversation with him.

You left the apartment without saying anything to Jeno. He was at work and whenever you called or texted, he got mad. You decided to visit your family, maybe a three-day break would help your relationship get back to normal, you really hoped it would.

Jeno entered the apartment and instead of smelling the delicious food you always made, he was welcomed by silence and an empty apartment. Jeno looked around but you were nowhere to be seen. Some of your clothes were also gone and he started to panic.

He called you immediately and he was furious. How could you leave without telling him anything?

“Hello?”

“Where the fuck are you?” he asked angrily.

“Jeno I told you that I was going to visit my parents why are you acting like this?” you hissed back.

“I-I forgot- but you could’ve told me this morning! Or last night, do you really think I can remember everything you tell me?!”

He kept yelling even though he knew that you didn’t do anything wrong.

“Are you being serious right now? You can’t even remember one thing I tell you and you get angry at me? Maybe you should listen to me the first time instead of acting like I did something wrong. I’m going to turn my phone off until Monday. Don’t try to contact me.” And you hung up without letting him speak again.

Jeno angrily threw his phone on the bed and took off his clothes to take a shower. He knew that you were right, but he would never admit that. He should be happy, he could finally relax and have fun without you being there 24/7.

You thought that he would change when you come back, but he didn’t.

He was still the same. Not listening but always complaining and ignoring your feelings. Three days with your family made you happier than the last three months with Jeno.

After another week with him, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“This, whatever this is, is not good for us! There’s not a moment you’re not complaining or yelling at me! Not a single I love you left your mouth since I don’t even know, two months! You’re always telling me that everything I do is wrong and that you’re sick of me! T-This isn’t the relationship we once had. There’s no love- just pain. All I feel when I look at you is pain a-and I don’t want that… I-I just want you to love me, but this is going nowhere. So I’m going to say it now,” you inhaled deeply, “L-Let’s just break up and stop our suffering.”

Tears streamed down your face and you couldn’t even remember the last time you had cried like this. Your heart was breaking, and it hurt so much, but you knew that he’d never do the first step and just break up with you because he hated being confronted. The communication died just like your relationship.

“Fine. Then leave. If you want to break up, let’s do it. Let’s end it here.” Jeno’s blood was boiling with anger, he thought, but it was actually pain and the fear of losing you. But just like always, he didn’t talk to you about your problems and just agreed on breaking up.

I just heard you found the one you've been looking You've been looking for I wish I would have known that wasn't me 'Cause even after all this time, I still wonder Why I can't move on Just the way you did so easily

Don't wanna know Kind of dress you're wearing tonight If he's holding onto you so tight The way I did before I overdosed Should've known your love was a game Now I can't get you out of my brain Oh, it's such a shame

It’s been almost eight months since your breakup with Jeno. With every passing second, your memories slowly faded. You moved out and moved into a small apartment on the other side of the city, far, far away from place you once called home. It took you a little time to finally get used to the fact that you and Jeno weren’t together anymore.

You weren’t actually looking for someone new, the empty spot in your heart wasn’t 100% ready to be filled again, but when you met Na Jaemin, a literal angel, you couldn’t help but slowly fall for him. You met him in a bookstore, while you were looking for a new book to read, he was working there and helped you find the perfect book and after you finished the book, you spend all of your time in the little bookstore with him. Your relationship with Jaemin started as friends but your heart skipped a beat whenever you were with him and you knew that you wanted to be more than friends. Jaemin could swear that it was love at first sight, when he saw you while you looked through the bookstore and after he got to know you, he fell even harder.

He knew about your relationship with Jeno and he agreed on taking it slow. He showered you with so much love and he was always there for you.

It was one of your friends birthdays when you met Jeno again. She was a mutual friend, and you didn’t want to go at first, but Jaemin encouraged you to face him.

You changed your outfit, even though you weren’t really in the mood to wear a dress but you still wore one. You wanted to show your sexy side to Jaemin. The poor guy always saw you wearing oversized hoodies and sweatpants, but he always told you that you looked hot and sexy, no matter what you were wearing.

“I didn’t know that Y/n has a new boyfriend.” Jeno heard someone say.

“Oh yeah, his name is Jaemin. I’ve met him a couple weeks ago and I’ve never seen her happier.”

Jeno looked at the girl talking. How would she know how happy you were before? How would she know that you weren’t happier when you were with him? You were always happy with him, he thought. Well, you were always happy until he decided to hurt you.

He still remembers how hard you tried and how he pushed you away. You gave your everything to save your relationship but Jeno didn’t care and when you broke up with him, he just let you.

But he was sure, that nobody could make you happier than he could. Right?

You have a new boyfriend, so what?

It’s been months, but you were still the only thing on Jeno’s mind. He was nervous, maybe coming to the club was a stupid decision. He didn’t know why you were still on his mind after months of pushing you away. Why is he thinking about you? Why is he always dreaming of you?

You weren’t thinking about him anymore, you moved on. You moved on and found someone new, someone who made you happier.

Why couldn’t he stop seeing you everywhere?

Why couldn’t he stop missing you?

Jeno started to panic.

He didn’t want to see you. He didn’t want to see you with someone else. He didn’t want to see you happy without him.

You were playing with his heart and his brain. You were the one who left and when you left you took a part of his heart with you and after you left, everything fell apart and he hated you. Jeno hated you because you played with him, you made him think that it was his fault and after you left, everything reminded you of him and he was broken.

But he knew that it was his fault.

No matter how hard he tried to push the thought away, that he destroyed the best thing he had, deep inside, he knew that he destroyed it with his own two hands.

While Jeno was deep in thoughts, he didn’t even notice that he was drinking and drinking and when he saw you walk to your friend with a stranger holding your hand, he finished his fifth glass of whiskey in one go. Jeno was actually drinking a simple cocktail, he can’t remember when he changed his drink to something stronger. You looked, well, you looked as beautiful as always, but the big smile on your face was almost foreign to him, he thought.

When was the last time you smiled like that when you were with him?

He couldn’t remember.

Jeno’s grip around his glass tightened as he watched that guy put his hand on your waist, pulling you closer.

You greeted all of your friends and Jeno watched you from the bar.

Jeno was jealous, not only because Jaemin could hold you, but also because of all of the other guys who looked at you. He hated it, he always hated it. Jeno hated the fact that someone looked at his girlfriend. Whenever you talked about his jealousy you assured him that there was no reason to get jealous and with time, his jealousy wasn’t as bad as it was before.

But right now, he felt like he was going to explode.

Jaemin held you tightly, he knew that Jeno was there but he wasn’t worried. After everything you told him, he knew that there was absolutely no reason to be worried. He trusted you and you trusted him.

You introduced Jaemin to a couple friends, he was nice to everyone and when you were so into the conversation with your friend, Jaemin kissed your cheek and told you that he’s going to get you and himself something to drink.

He knew what you liked, he didn’t have to ask you.

When Jaemin walked to the bar, Jeno watched him with anger in his eyes. Jaemin didn’t notice and when he leaned against the bar, right next to Jeno, he ordered two drinks. Jaemin thanked the bartender and walked back to you.

His hands and lips were all over you, Jeno’s blood was boiling.

You danced with Jaemin and Jeno was ready to leave the club, he couldn’t watch you have fun with someone else. It hurt too much. But when he was about to leave, your eyes met his.

Time stood still.

Jeno couldn’t hear the loud crowd of the club and the loud music anymore, all he could hear was your voice, your broken voice telling him that you wanted to break up.

Let’s just break up and stop our suffering.

You were suffering when you were with Jeno and Jeno realized how much of a fool he was. How he took you for granted and how he ignored your feelings.

Jeno hurt you.

You just wanted to feel loved and Jeno couldn’t give you that. You talked to him, you told him how hurt you were, how much you missed him. You were in pain and it was his fault.

Jeno realized, that he always loved you.

He shouldn’t have let you go. He shouldn’t have agreed to break up. He should’ve tried to change, to be better for you, to show you how much he actually loved you. But it was over now, you were not his anymore and it was all his fault.

You softly smiled at Jeno, even after everything he put you through, you were still too nice to him.

Jeno’s eyes were empty, just like your side of his bed, just like his heart. You filled his life with joy, love, and happiness. His heart was full of love for you, but now it was just pain and longing.

Jeno tried to smile back at you, he wanted to tell you so many things, but he couldn’t.

His eyes filled with tears, his fist clenched, his gaze left you and he tried not to cry in the middle of a club. He was so drunk and he couldn’t let his drunk self take over and hurt you further, that’s how he looked one last time at you and left the club without thinking twice.

Jeno wanted to go home and drink until he couldn’t feel that arche in his heart anymore.

I just hope you're lying next to somebody Who knows how to love you like me There must be a good reason that you're gone Every now and then I think you might want me to Come show up at your door But I'm just too afraid that I'll be wrong

Don't wanna know If you're looking into her eyes If she's holding onto you so tight The way I did before I overdosed Should've known your love was a game Now I can't get you out of my brain Oh, it's such a shame

six months ago

It’s been two months since your breakup with Jeno. You missed him. You missed Jeno so much, it hurt. Being apart from Jeno hurt you even more.

You didn’t know what you were supposed to do.

It was almost midnight and your heart fought against your brain.

What if Jeno missed you too?

What if Jeno thought about you?

What if he regrets how he acted and was sorry?

You couldn’t take it anymore.

You didn’t know how you ended up in front of his apartment, but you found yourself in your car. You heart won against your brain.

What if he laughs at you?

What if he kicks you out?

What if he was over you?

But, what if he wants you back?

You were afraid, you were so afraid and the second you unclasped your belt you saw Jeno with a girl in his arms.

He was holding her hand.

He was smiling brightly.

He was done with you.

The sight in front of you broke your heart once again. You didn’t think he’d move on that fast, but then again you didn’t know if he started seeing her after your breakup. What if he cheated on you with her?

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply.

Seeing Jeno with someone else hurt, but you realized that moment that you had to move on too. You didn’t want to suffer anymore, you didn’t want to be sad anymore. You couldn’t hold onto something that was breaking you apart. It was over and there was no going back.

Present

When your eyes met Jeno’s, you smiled genuinely. You held eye contact for a second and you realized that he looked… broken? He didn’t look like the Jeno you once knew. Dark bags under his eyes and his eyes were red, he couldn’t even walk properly, he was too drunk and you knew how Jeno was when he drank too much.

You weren’t going to talk to him, not because you were still angry and hurt, no. There was no reason to talk to your ex-boyfriend. You moved on and you were happier than ever. You loved Jaemin so much and you felt loved, Jaemin is all you need.

You hoped that Jeno was also happy just like you were. No matter what happened between you two, Jeno was always someone kindhearted and you wanted him to be happy. You hoped that he was with someone who loved him as much as you did.

You saw that he tried to smile at you, but when he blinked you saw how glossy his eyes were and right after, he left the club.

“Baby, are you alright?” Jaemin asked you.

“Yes, I’m fine. I love you.” You once again realized that you needed to lose Jeno to find your true love, Jaemin.

That we don't talk anymore We don't talk anymore We don't talk anymore Like we used to do We don't love anymore What was all of it for? Oh, we don't talk anymore Like we used to do

The ringing of your phone woke you up in the middle of the night. An unknown number called you.

“Hello?” you mumbled.

There was no answer.

“Who’s there?”

“H-Hi, Y/n.”

“Jeno?” you sat up in your bed, your back resting against the bedframe.

“Yes… it’s me. I’m sorry that I called you this late but-“ he stopped talking.

“But?”

“I- I just wanted to hear you voice.” He whispered.

“Jeno-“

“N-No please, just listen to me? Okay? Please.” He begged.

“Fine.

“E-Ever since I saw you at the club… I-I can’t get you out of my head- wait, no that’s not true, I couldn’t get you out my head for the last months now. A-And when I saw you again, I just… I just didn’t know what to do, so I called you and I want to tell you, that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I treated you. I’m sorry for hurting you, I-I’m so fucking sorry that I let you go that easily. I should’ve tried to keep you- there are so many things I regret.” He sobbed.

“Jeno-“

“I’m not done. I hate myself so much. I feel so lonely and I miss you. I miss you so much- I miss what we had before I destroyed everything- I miss holding you, kissing you and loving you.”

“What about your girlfriend? I thought you were happy with her?” you asked, there was no emotion in your voice.

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend?” he asked confused.

“Two months after our breakup I, uhm, I drove to your house and I saw you holding hands with a girl. You looked happy. I thought you were happy.” You admitted.

“N-No no, there’s no one. S-she was just someone I hooked up with, she didn’t mean anything to me. I promise you that she was just distraction.” Jeno rambled, “But what were you doing there?”

“I,” you breathed in and out, “I wanted to try again. I thought we could start over or something. I don’t know. I had missed you.”

“Y-You wanted to try again? You mean there was a chance for us to get back together?” he couldn’t stop his tears, “You mean I destroyed another chance with you?”

“It’s better this way.”

“No! I can’t believe this, I could be with you right now, I could be holding you right now. I could-“ his voice broke, “I fuck up everything. I let you suffer and I don’t know what to do. I-I love you, I never stopped loving you.”

“Jeno, I’m sorry, but I’m in a happy relationship. It’s over, I’m really sorry but-“

“No, please give me another chance, I’ll show you how much I love you, please Y/n, I love you I can make you happy, give me one last chance to make everything right-“

“I love Jaemin. I really love him. I don’t think we should be talking right now, I’m sorry but please don’t call me ever again.” You didn’t want to hurt him further but this conversation was going nowhere.

“Please, don’t do this to us, please, I love you I-I really do. I missed you voice so much, don’t hang up please. Y/n, I love you. Please tell me that you love me too, please.”

“I’m sorry.”

You could hear his whimpers and cries and you would be lying if you said that it didn’t hurt you hearing him cry like that. But you moved on and there was no way that you go back to Jeno.

“N-No, I’m sorry, so sorry for everything- I-I hope he k-knows how rare you are. I didn’t know that and then I lost you. I love you.”

“Goodbye Jeno.”

“Goodbye, Y/n…I love you.”

SEQUEL: the way I loved you

#nct dream angst #nct angst #lee jeno #jeno x reader #jeno scenarios #jaemin #na jaemin #nct dream #jeno x you #lee jeno angst #jeno angst

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bucky-hues · 3 years ago

Text

stucky fic recs

here are some stucky fic recs! as always, be sure to read the warnings for each fic <3

one shots

finding home | @thedamageofherdays

cap steve x modern bucky

After he is caught in a terrible rainstorm while hiking, Bucky is glad to find shelter at the cottage Steve shares with his daughter and his dog. Bucky ends up finding so much more than just a safe place to spend the night.

x | @dreadlockholiday

steve x bucky

Request: Bucky looking through a glossy magazine and saying something like "God, can you imagine being paid for just looking cute?" And without thought Steve replies, "you'd be a millionaire" and Bucky just blushes furiously while Steve's all like 😳 *oh no, I just said that out loud*

x | @dreadlockholiday (18+)

steve x bucky

Bucky finds his BFF Steve's sketchbook... and it's full of nothing but sketches of Bucky... naked.

sweethearts | @musette22

steve x bucky

Steve confesses his feelings to Bucky using sweethearts

my moon, my man | @musette22 (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

AU meet-cute. Strangers on a Train, but with less murder and more sexual tension.

make it till you fake it | AggressiveWhenStartled (AO3)

steve x bucky

“Ned,” Peter said, like a drowning man sighting land. “Ned. Captain America and the Winter Soldier are fake dating right now and it is the most painfully awkward and obvious thing I have ever seen, all of us want to die, Ned.”

things my heart used to know | Nightwing11 (AO3)

steve x bucky

In a world where soulmates can communicate telepathically with their partners, Steve Rogers has always had Bucky Barnes with him, a calming voice in a sea of turmoil. And, when Bucky falls off the train during World War II, Steve experiences deafening silence for the first time.

Now, after crashing a plane in the Arctic to save the world and being frozen for 70 years, Steve’s still trying to figure out how to live without Bucky there. His new friends are trying to help him adjust, to move on. And he thought he was doing better, he really did.

So, why is he suddenly hearing Bucky’s voice again?

catfish | @buckmebxrnes (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers is a famous movie star, known for his role as Captain America. Bucky Barnes is a bored law student who drinks too much wine. Bucky gets on match.com to boost his confidence. What he doesn't expect is a guy using Steve Rogers' pictures on a dating profile. Bucky decides to mess with the guy. After all, what idiot uses Steve Rogers' pictures on a dating site?

Not like it's really him, right? Bucky may need more wine.

let's go have fun | @sebastanbucky

steve x bucky

“Nat wanted me to-” Nat clears her throat and he rolls his eyes. “I wanted to tell you something.” He looks at Steve with a look he hopes says ‘play along’. “Okay. What did you want to tell me?” Bucky has to take a deep breath to keep from laughing again, it helps with his performance as Nat nods encouragingly at him. “I’m gay.” He says, making his voice sound shaky and weak.

the way you came around | sokaless (AO3)

steve x bucky

After a while, Bucky says, “You know, this song sounds like it was written for you.” “That's funny,” Steve remarks. “I chose it because it reminded me of you.” Steve gives Bucky an iPod full of his favourite songs from the 21st century to help him deal with his nightmares. Bucky has a new mission- to find out who Steve is in love with, because there are a few too many unrequited love songs on that iPod.

stuck on you | wearing_tearing (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

you have the place next to my place | justanotherStonyfan (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

prompt: “We live in adjacent apartments and our bedrooms are on opposite sides of a very thin wall and one night I heard you crying and talked to you through the wall” AU

Captain America helps the Vet next door.

you’ve got (30) new matches | williamkaplans (AO3)

steve x bucky

When everyone finds out Steve's bi thanks to Bucky's recovering memories, Natasha kicks up her match-making into high gear. Steve has zero luck, but Natasha won't give up, especially when Sam (jokingly) suggests online dating. It isn't long before Steve finds someone, a someone who seems eerily familiar.

perfectly right wrong number | melonbutterfly (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

It all starts because Steve is too dumb to handle his smartphone.

A wrong number AU in which Bucky Barnes doesn't enter Steve's life (meaning: Bucky wasn't born until the eighties, but Steve is still Captain America) until Steve accidentally dials the wrong number. Wherein there is a lot of texting, some advice via Natasha and Darcy, a bit of pining, and a first date in an amusement park. Oh, and on top of being a disabled veteran, Bucky is a professional catwalker. Literally.

put your number in my phone | MacksDramaticShenanigans (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve tucks his phone back into his pocket and turns back to the computer. He only has to click a few times before he finds the link to the questionnaire and opens it, inputting the participant number before hitting next. The beginnings of the consent form fills the page, and all Steve has left to do now is wait for the participant— one James Barnes, according to the website— to show up.

Thankfully, Steve doesn’t end up having to wait very long. James Barnes shows up ten minutes early and knocks on the door before cracking it open and peeking in.

“Oh, hi,” he says, when he spots Steve sitting at the desk. He pushes the door open all the way and steps into the room just as Steve spins in the chair to face him.

“Um, I’m, uh, a bit early, but I’m here for the decision making study,” James continues, clear blue eyes flickering around the room before landing on Steve again. The skin between his eyebrows crinkles up a little, and god, Steve probably shouldn’t find his uncertainty as cute as he does. “Am I in the right place?”

wouldn’t it be nice | MacksDramaticShenanigans (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

"You are never going to believe what just happened," Bucky bemoans, shaking his head. He's at Steve's side in a moment and doesn't bother to give any warning before he dramatically falls into Steve's lap. Steve just barely manages to save his book from getting squashed.

"What is it?" Steve asks, matching Bucky's dramatic tone. "What am I not going to believe?"

"I just got off the phone with Natasha," he starts. "She cancelled on me!" Bucky throws his arms up, nearly smacking Steve in the face in the process.

Steve carefully places his hand on Bucky's forearm and lowers it away from his face.

"You're kidding," he says, a frown curving onto his lips at the news.

"I wish I was," he sighs. Bucky presses his lips together into a disappointed line and deflates against the back of the couch, slinking down Steve's thighs a little. "Who goes to Coney Island alone? How pathetic is that?"

Steve snorts, earning a glare from Bucky, and pats Bucky's thigh. "Aw, don't be such a sourpuss, Buck," he says. "Who said anything about going alone?"

all jokes aside | darksknight (AO3)

steve x bucky

"Before we know it Banner’s gonna be makin’ insinuations.” (Everyone "jokes" about Steve and Bucky being in a relationship until, eventually, they admit that they are.)

barnes & rogers and the goddamn truth

steve x bucky (teacher au)

There are three well-known facts at Shield High:

1. The history teacher Mr. Barnes is a stone-cold terror, and it’s not even because he only has one arm. 2. The other history teacher, Mr. Rogers, is a mysterious enigma, and it’s something to do with the body of a Greek God and contradicting stories of his past. (They’re all rumours, anyway.) 3. Mr Barnes and Mr Rogers hate each other.

Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.

in the shadows | DragonWannabe (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Five times they thought they were almost caught, one time someone found out, and one time they didn't have to hide.

OR:

Bucky and Steve grew up in a time when people like them went to jail.

single and looking | Jaiden_S (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

"Bucky held his place with his index finger and turned the magazine over to check the date on the cover. It was brand new, just out this month. An unexpected cord of anxiety tightened in Bucky’s chest. Single and looking? Frantically, he flipped back to the article. What exactly was Steve looking for? According to the article, Steve’s dream girl should be intelligent, altruistic, well-versed in current events and have a wicked sense of humor. Oh, and he had a thing for high heels and red lipstick. Bucky’s stomach churned as he re-read the article. Was that really what Steve wanted? Make-up and stilettos?"

A slightly sappy tale of two utterly besotted super-soldiers who excel at miscommunication.

these american dreams (ain’t no white picket fences left for me) | kariye (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

In which Bucky has a house, a dog, an herb garden, and a serious case of insomnia. Welcome to Havensport, Indiana (population 8,294), where Tom’s Neighborhood Grocer stays open all night, little old ladies call the car shop to get their refrigerators repaired, and the heat of summer days and the length of summer nights can make you think that this perfect world will last forever.

i’ve been careless with a delicate man | paraxdisepink (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Steve lets SHIELD think he and Bucky were boyfriends so they’ll let him see the Winter Soldier in medical.

knock on wood | 74days (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers lives a quiet, steady life, until his next door neighbour moves in and starts having incredibly energetic sex every night. All Steve wants is for him to move his bed away from the wall so the damn headboard doesn't knock a hole through his wall.

progressively bigger keys | spinawren (AO3)

steve x bucky

“A very little key will open a very heavy door.” ― Charles Dickens, Hunted Down

Steve and Bucky, it appears, have less need for a key and more use for a battering ram in trying to come out of the closet.

(The one where Steve tries to do one thing (one thing!) without causing a national ruckus, but the press are determined to see Bucky as Steve's best friend. And nothing more.)

stucky discover gay rights | Alicia_Borealis (AO3)

steve x bucky

“Then, why-” Steve stopped himself and looked at Bucky, who had tears rolling freely down his cheeks. “We’re- we’re not sick?”

“Wait, what?” Tony asked.

“Being a homosexual, it isn’t… wrong?”

The story of how Steve Roger's loved and lost Bucky, then how he got him back and then how he realised he was allowed to love him after all.

thursday nights with bucky barnes | Ellessey (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve has a comfortable, well-worn routine for his Thursday nights, until the old man who runs the laundromat breaks his hip.

Then Steve has Bucky instead.

to seek a nood-er world | jehans (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Send noodz

Steve has been staring at his phone for the last six minutes, eyes narrowed so much they’re almost closed at this point, trying to figure out what the hell Bucky means. Noodz? What the fuck are noodz?

Listen, Steve is at least marginally aware of modern pop culture. He’s heard of nudes — not that nudes are exactly a modern invention; artists have been creating them for millennia — and he does know that people tend to misspell words to be cute or funny. They did that when he was young, too. Because time is a flat circle, apparently.

But, wait—does that mean…?

No. Not possible. Bucky isn’t asking Steve to send him…nudes.

Right?

tied ‘round your throat | sleepypercy (AO3) (18+)

police officer steve x serial killer bucky

Steve's a small-town police officer trying to track a serial killer who's been in Steve's bed the whole time.

much tattoo about nothing | Deisderium (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.

the perfect man | Ellessey (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Setting up a dating profile is decidedly not in Bucky's skill-set, but against all odds he manages to connect with someone who makes the one-night stand he thought he wanted feel like not nearly enough.

kiss me and take off your clothes | steveandbucky (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers is dared to send a dick pic to a blog which critiques dick pics (run by none other than Bucky Barnes). Hilarity ensues.

i can’t dare to dream about you anymore | steveandbucky (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve considers himself to be a pretty open-minded guy, which is why he can't quite understand why he feels so uncomfortable whenever he sees his gay roommate kissing guys. He's not homophobic, but how else can he explain the way his stomach twists at the sight?

It takes him a while to catch on.

exam room b | steveandbucky (AO3)

modern steve x nurse bucky

“Wait, what do you mean he asked for me?”

“He asked if the cute male nurse with the ponytail was working today. I assume he meant you.”

kickstart my heart | Kalee60 (AO3) (18+)

doctor steve x modern bucky

Bucky’s Wednesday wasn’t off to a great start. Not only did he wake up in a hospital with his annoyed best friend staring down at him, his treating Doctor just happened to be way too familiar, and the reason for that was slightly mortifying.

With misunderstandings in the air, a snarky nurse who is a pain in his butt and the ugliest neck brace known to man attached to his body. There was no way his Wednesday was ever going to improve. Could it?

you make me feel.. | kalika_999 (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

All Steve wanted was to take a breather, decompress after a mission and go out for a jog in the rain. He wasn't expecting to hide out in a bookstore filled with new and used books or that the employee that worked there thought he was an absolute loser and didn't even realize he was insulting Captain America.

nothing in the world that could stop it | rainbow_nerds (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky just wanted to send his best friend a picture of his cat being an idiot while he was taking a bath. Was it really his fault for forgetting the full length mirror right opposite the tub?

rescue me and hold me in your arms | 74days (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky is on the worst date of his life, and what he really needs of for this waitress to get the message he's sending her with his mind to rescue him. She doesn't, but she does send someone to extract him from a night of torture...

odd ways | peterbparker (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“And it would have been an amazing night with my son if he wasn’t distracted by the hot guy on the other side of the room,” Sarah sighed, shaking her head. “He’s been looking over at you for the past fifteen minutes.”

Bucky choked on the mouthful of beer he had just taken.

“What?” he croaked. Things were starting to make a little more sense now.

“Right?” Sarah said, waving her hand towards her son. “He completely ignored my garden stories because he’s been making eyes at you so I decided to come over and introduce myself.”

series

rare is this love (keep it covered) | @musette22 (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

It’s 2014. Captain America has been out of the ice for three years and is trudging along, saving the world and trying to get used to living in the future. Steve thinks he knows how the rest of his life is going to pan out – a life of duty, which he chose when he signed up to be Erskine’s science experiment. But then, he meets Bucky Barnes: the out-of-this-world-gorgeous mechanic and war vet, who turns Steve’s life upside down and makes him question everything he thought he knew. Slowly, Steve comes to realize there is more to life than duty and punching Nazis. Just one problem though: how on earth does a 96-year-old virgin who only just realized he may not be entirely straight make the transition from crush to relationship? Cue healthy amounts of self-doubt, awkward flirting, pretty blushing, existential crises, emotional growth, and maybe, possibly, a sexual awakening.

coming up easy | @musette22 (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.

"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."

“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”

4 minute window | @cesperanza

steve x bucky

"Look, if they catch me," Bucky muttered, "they're either going to kill me or they're going to put me in a box with a little window and—Steve, I can't."

swapped | writeonclara (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

if u wanted my number u couldve just asked

u didnt have to steal my whole phone ;)

Steve stared down at his phone, confused. He didn't recognize the number – except, oh wait, he really did. That was his number. On his phone.

He flipped the phone over, then slid one hand down his face. Not his phone.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

[stupid fucking] brooklyn hipster bros | relenaflanel (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky's mother gives him an ultimatum. Bucky doesn't respond well.

All Barneses are stubborn assholes, Steve observes, as though he doesn't see the irony of calling someone else stubborn. Or an asshole.

And Bucky can't even deny he is a total asshole for lying to his mother about dating Steve just so he doesn't have to bring someone else to her wedding, but damn if he's not going to give the lie everything he has.

brought to brightness | eyres (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

slide to answer | relenaflanel (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

"What do I do?” Steve appealed into the phone. “I’m freaking out.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. It lasted so long that Steve pulled the receiver away from his ear and frowned at it. Pay phones were old. Maybe this one wasn’t working despite the obvious dial tone when he picked up.

“Ok,” a stranger’s voice said over the phone. “First acknowledge the fact that you dialed the wrong number, but be quick about it because my cab is a few blocks away from my own plans and I’m about to drop some truth bombs on you.”

how to woo the winter soldier | writeonclara (AO3)

steve x bucky

“I think I’m ready to date again,” Steve said.

“What,” Natasha said.

“What?” Clint said, lowering his binoculars. He blinked at the dumbstruck look on the Captain’s face, then followed his gaze to where he was staring dopily at—at the Winter fucking Soldier.

“Steve, no,” Clint groaned.

Or: Steve courts the Winter Soldier.

all these things that i’ve done | @not-withoutyou

steve x bucky

Steve was the patron saint of waiting too long. Bucky was atoning for his sins. Maybe they’d both been forsaken, abandoned by the light. Maybe they’d find a way back to each other again.

Post civil war, if things had gone differently.

find a way (to make it back home) | belwrites (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (college au)

Fresh off a year abroad, Head Resident Assistant Steve Rogers finds his senior year of college to be full of changes, and he's not just talking about the growth spurt. He's more concerned with the fact that his best friend...isn't talking to him? Is dating his ex? May or may not be missing an arm?

In which Steve has no fucking clue what's going on, but he's trying, Bucky learns how to communicate with his best friend again, and everyone quietly panics about the future.

is it pretending if i already want you? | OhCaptainMyCaptain (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Based on prompt: Pretend Boyfriends AU where one of their families is always wondering why they're never in a relationship, so the other offers to pretend to be their boyfriend for some family event

the roommate | layersofart, Niitza (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

dear mr. postman | odetteandodile (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve and Bucky revive an old friendship, get married (but totally just as friends, for reasons), and navigate a few of the many trials of the heart that come with falling in love with your best friend.

fate will play us out | steveandbucky (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

Bucky has landed himself a job with Stark Industries. He doesn't know yet that the job is actually being the PR manager for the Avengers.

Bucky has also started dating Steve Rogers. He also doesn't know yet that Steve is Captain America.

Bucky's life is about to get a whole lot more exciting.

the avengers hate club | notebooksandlaptops (AO3)

pop star steve x modern bucky

Bucky falls hopelessly for Steve and starts an Avengers hate club with the lead singer of the Avengers.

songbird | chicklette (AO3) (18+)

modern steve x musician bucky

At 43, James Barnes is a washed up old man. He’s got a dozen Grammys in the hall closet, an agent that can’t get him a deal, a decade-old case of writer’s block, a moody teen-aged daughter, and the gorgeous actress Natasha Romanova for an ex-wife. Well, one of them anyway. He’s a man who’s given up on finding joy in his life, and if it wasn’t for his kid, he’d have probably found a way to quit the world a long time ago.

Enter Steven Grant Rogers, struggling twenty-something, orphan, and someone who has no idea who Barnes is, other than some musician his mom liked a lot. The two men meet by accident, doing nothing more than passing the time in a quiet bar. But when a pap gets a shot of the two men embracing, Bucky takes it as a chance to finally come out as bisexual, and his agent makes him a proposition: Ten new songs and one very sweet boyfriend will get him a new record deal that will maybe, just maybe put him back on top.

Now all he has to do is write the songs, convince the kid, and not fall in love. Should be easy, right?

the right partner | LeeHan (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x ws bucky

Steve meets a beautiful man with a bright laugh on a sunny day in Italy. Captain America meets the elusive Winter Soldier moments later.

Date Bucky Barnes. Defeat the Winter Soldier. Bring down Hydra. How hard could it be?

#stucky fic #stucky fic recs #steve x bucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers

141 notes · View notes

crackheadgeminibby · 4 years ago

Text

jealous

pairing: chris evans x black!reader

warnings: age gap, language

word count: 2k

a/n: this lowkey sucks and i’m sorry for that but i really wanted to post it🤭

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape or form or reposted on any other platform

not my picture

You’re sitting on your couch, eating popcorn and watch Fresh Prince reruns when your phone starts to ring. As expected.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, where the hell are you? You said you would come.” You groan loudly. “I know, but I started to feel kind of sick and I didn’t want to get everyone else sick, you know?”

There’s a pause at the other end of the phone for a couple of seconds before, “You’re such a liar. You’re never sick.” You roll your eyes at that. Of course he would know that.

Ah yes, Scott Evans, your best friend of multiple years. You had met in college and practically hated each other at first. You both were very sarcastic people and it annoyed each of you in the beginning, but you ended bonding because you were the only people that really understood each other’s humour.

“Fine, I just didn’t want to come, okay? I’m tired and I just wanted to chill at home.”

“But Y/N, you never miss the mid-summer barbeque. My mom keeps asking when you’re getting here. And I freaking miss you. Just like pop over and eat a burger or something than you can go back to your popcorn and your cat boyfriend.”

“Hey! Leave Mr. Business alone, he didn’t go anything to you.”

Scott bursts into laughter at that.

“Okay, okay, sorry Mr. Business. But Y/N, seriously, please, just come for a while.”

You groan even louder than the first time, “Fine. But I’m eating a hot-dog and fruit salad and then I’m leaving.”

“Yes! Okay, see you in 30!”

You hang up the phone and reluctantly get up from your couch, headed to take a shower.

You normally didn’t mind going to Lisa’s house because you adored Scott’s family. Since the beginning, they had all been so nice and welcoming to you. Well, you know, except Chris.

Chris and you did not get along, to say the least. He annoyed the shit out of you, always showing up with a new bimbo on his arm, making out like there’s no tomorrow in front of everybody. Like, literally. Every single time you saw him, he was with a new girl. He also spent the entire time you were at the house taking digs at you. Always for different reasons, which kudos for the originality, but they were always increasingly mean. This meant that you could never stay too long when Chris was there or you would lose your shit, like at that one Christmas dinner. Oof, bad memories.

As you’re standing in front of your closet, you contemplate all of your summer clothes. You end up deciding on a sheer long sleeve top and black dress. You rapidly do your hair and makeup as you hear Scott sending multiple texts, probably asking where you are.

You finally arrive at the house about 45 minutes later. You immediately head to the backyard, where lively noise and soft music are coming from.

As soon as you get in the backyard, you spot Scott, sitting on a chair, beer in hand, talking with his mom.

When he sees you, his face lights up and he excitedly waves you over.

“Hi guys!”

“Y/N! We were starting to think that you weren’t going to show up!”

You laugh slightly, “You know me, always have to make an entrance and all!”

You sit down on a chair next to them and listen distractedly as they continue with their conversation.

As you’re starting to think about getting yourself to eat, Chris enters the backyard with another one of his hook-ups, as on schedule. You roll your eyes slightly as you tell Scott and Lisa that you’ll be right back and head to the food table.

You’re distracted by the customization of your food and don’t realize that your seat is now occupied by your least favorite Evans.

“Um, excuse me. I was sitting there.”

Chris barely spares you a glance as his hook-up looks at you, offended, and scoffs. “So? There’s plenty of chairs in the backyard.”

“Okay, well, this chair has my phone on it so obviously I was going to come back to sit here, so move.”

Chris makes a mocking pout at you and says, “Oh, you’re right, sorry.” He then rolls his eyes and smirks, “Or not.”

You grind your jaw and swallow your pride. There’s no need to make a scene. You give Chris the fakest smile you can muster and bend down to take your phone from the chair’s drink holder and turn around to sit on the other side of the pool.

Unfortunately for you, this gives you a direct view of Chris’ make-out session. You shudder and groan as you direct your attention to the children playing in the pool.

After eating, you head to the cooler to get a beer but, of course, it’s empty.

Knowing that Scott always keeps a secret stash of his favorite beers in the basement, you leave your plate and phone on the chair before heading inside. As you go down the stairs, you remember that they didn’t have any light down here. Would have been pretty smart to bring your phone but, oh well, too late.

You get a bottle from the fridge before cracking it open on the door. You’re about to go back upstairs when a sound surprises you and you let out a scream while throwing a punch out in the dark.

“Ow, you hit my face! What the fuck is your problem?”

Of course it would be him.

“Well, you scared the shit out of me so not my fault.”

You skirt around him and head back upstairs. However, before you can pass through the kitchen and head back to the backyard, you feel a hand around your arm.

“Wait. I wanna talk to you for a second.”

You turn around and shake your arm out of his grip. You take a sip of your beer while you wait for him to speak. Chris sighs loudly before asking, “Why do you hate me?”

You choke on your beer before looking at him with wide eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re always super rude to me whenever you see me, and you always leave parties after like an hour when I’m here.”

“Okay, so we’re doing this.” Chris frowns in confusion at this.

“First of all, I don’t hate you, you just really annoy me. You’re always showing up with a new girl, always more plastic than the one before. You’re always eating their faces in front of everyone, which like, ew. And you’re the one that’s rude to me, by the way, so…”

You shrug and are ready to down your beer and leave when Chris whispers, “Wait, you don’t like that?”

“Why the fuck would I want to see you making out with a different girl every few weeks?”

“But Scott said that-” When he realizes what he’s saying, he stops abruptly and puts a hand in front of his mouth.

You tilt your head in confusion, “Scott said what?”

“Umm… Well, he said that… Uh, you liked bad boys?’

You feel heat making its way from your belly all the way up to your cheeks. You were attracted to the more edgy ones but what the hell did that have to do with anything?

“And?’

“Well… I thought that, you know, if I was like that, you would like me?”

Realization hits you and you mutter, “Oh my God, I’m way too sober for this shit.”

You gulp down the rest of your beer and try to think of what to say when you hear, “Baby, come back outside.”

Chris’ date saunters into the kitchen and glares at you as she practically hangs herself from his arm.

“Yeah, um, good luck with that,” you gesture to the girl next to Chris and finish with, “and I’m gonna go.”

You put your beer bottle in the trash and head to the backyard. You get your phone and rapidly say by to Scott and Lisa before practically running out to your car.

Once you’re back home, back in your pyjamas and watching TV, you ponder over your short conversation with Chris. It kind of made sense that he suddenly started acting all macho around you. The first few times you had met Chris, he had been pretty nice to you but was very reserved. You just assumed that fame had gotten to his head and that’s why he had started acting like that. You roll your eyes as you remember that Chris had said that he was acting like that because of Scott.

you, 6:45pm:

so why exactly and in what circumstances did you reveal my type to chris?

You put your phone down but almost immediately receive a response.

scott, 6:45pm:

I didn’t know you guys could have a conversation without murdering each other.

I don’t even remember talking about this with him

you, 6:46pm:

he told me that you told him that i liked “bad boys”

scott, 6:46pm:

Oh, that

I’m pretty sure I told him that like 15 years ago when you met him

You frown at this. He’s been acting like a dumbass for 15 years and for what? You shake your head as you look for Chris’ name in your phone contacts.

you, 6:47pm:

where are you right now?

You put your phone down and head to the kitchen to make yourself a quick snack to eat. As you’re washing the things you used, you hear a text message coming in.

christopher, 7:03pm:

I just got home.

Why?

you, 7:03pm:

we need to talk, come over

You were kind of nervous. Chris had never come inside your house and you were sure that he would have plenty to say about it, but you were not in the mood at all.

About 15 minutes later, you hear your doorbell ring. You exhale slowly before opening the door and stepping aside to let Chris in.

He walks in and looks around before turning back to you and saying, “It’s pretty.” You could feel that he was different from the other times you had seen each other.

You mutter a “thanks” and motion for Chris to follow you in the living room.

“Okay, so you said that Scott told you the type of guys that I liked but you didn’t say why he told you that.”

“Um, I asked him, a long time ago.”

“Why?”

“Well, you know…”

You start to get annoyed and reply, “No, I don’t know, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here right now, would you?”

Chris exhales loudly before responding, “I thought you were beautiful and smart, and I liked you and I wanted to be like the other guys you liked.”

“I- huh?”

“At first, I thought it would make you laugh or something but then you didn’t react so I thought that if I was a little mean, you would notice me but then it didn’t work so I thought that I would try to make you jealous and here we are.”

You look at Chris with your mouth agape as you try to register what he just said.

“That seems rather cliché, no?”

“Yeah, I know, it was dumb and weird, but I didn’t know what else to do to make you notice me.”

“I don’t really know what to say, to be honest…”

“How about I take out sometime and you can get to know the real me?”

“Umm… I guess?”

Chris gets up, a grin on his face, as he heads towards your front door.

“I’ll text you then.”

As you hear Chris start his car and leave, you’re still sitting on the couch, completely shocked.

What the fuck just happened?

#chris evans #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans fanfictions #chris evans fanfics

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the-cult-of-russo · 4 years ago

Text

Biggest Regret

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: This one wasn't a request. I have Billy on the brain so much that I literally woke up and this popped into my head as I was laying there trying to fully wake up and I had to write it lmao It's just a little thing. A letter from Billy to you. I know a lot of you guys might want a part two for it, the resolution to the letter and there's a few ways it could go. So if anyone asks for a part two, let me know how you want it. Angsty? Fluffy? A mix? And I'll see what the general consensus is. I already have a slight idea about it but I wanna know what you guys want.

Also this is my AU dreamland where Billy didn’t betray Frank looool

Warnings: cursing, angst, sadness and regret from Billy. Talks of pregnancy and babies and abandonment.

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Y/N,

I know it's been a while and I don't even know if you still live where you did back then or if you'll get this. I'd say some shit like I hope you're doing well, which I am, but… I know you won't want to hear it.

I'm overseas again right now with Anvil. Me and Frank are taking point on a serious mission we're doing. Anvil's doing pretty well right now and we just got a contract from the CIA which is how we ended up here. Being out here like this, it reminds me of being deployed. Part of me missed it, I guess.

It's given me a lot to think about. It's funny how life and death situations do that to you, puts it all in perspective. And I know… I know you probably hate me and I don't blame you but I just hope if you do get this letter that you at least read it all.

I never should have walked away last year. I used to think I was a brave man, I mean the shit I've faced in the marines and with Anvil… I never backed down and I always fought. But with this. With you and the baby, I tucked tail and ran and I'll never forgive myself for that.

Honestly, I was terrified. I didn't think I could be the man you and the baby needed. I don't know what it's like to have loving parents and I hate myself so much for walking away. I don't want to do to my own kid what my mom did to me. I don't want them to grow up thinking I don't care, that I don't want them. It was never about that. I was never angry you were pregnant, I was never resentful. I was just scared that I'd fuck it up beyond repair so I got out of there before I had the chance.

I should have been there for you, Y/N. I should have been there to hold your hair from your face when you got sick. To go out at 3am and get you pickles or whatever the fuck it is that pregnant women love to eat. I should have been there with you at the birthing classes and the scans and the appointments. I should have been there to hold your hand in the delivery room, to tell you what an amazing job it is you're doing. I should have been there to hold my kid when they came into the world. To be there for you and them.

I can't take that back. I can't rewind time and be there and I wish I could. I don't know anything about my own baby which hurts the shit outta me and it's my own fault. I don't know if they're a boy or girl, how old they are. I know they'll roughly be a few months old based on when I walked away but that's about it. Do they look more like me or you? Are they a happy or fussy baby? This is the shit that's been running through my head out here. Fuck… I don't know if…. I don't even know if you kept the baby and that shit hurts too deep to even consider. But I know you well enough. Or at least I think I do. And I don't think you would have done that. As much as it would kill me inside, if you did I wouldn't blame you. I'd left you all alone to deal with it and I know neither of us planned a kid.

Frankie was the one who told me to write this. He's been putting up with me nonstop the last month of us being out here crying talking about you and the baby. He and Maria miss you, the kids too. Maybe that alone should have told me back then how important you were to me. I'd never introduced any of the girls I slept with to them, but it just felt natural to me back then. I'd wanted to. I couldn't even see just how much you meant to me.

It's like they always say, you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone. And I didn't know just how much I cared about you until that day I walked away and I fucking miss you, Y/N. Frank and Maria always ask if I'd heard anything about the baby or if I've reached out and it breaks my heart every time with how disappointed they are. I guess I never really thought they'd be excited for me to have a kid. But they're my family, of course they would be.

Frank roughed me up, you know that? I didn't tell him right away about the baby. He'd ask about you and I told him we decided it wasn't working like the coward I am. But then a few weeks after I told him the truth. He clocked me in the jaw, yanked me around as he yelled about how stupid and selfish I was. And I let him. He was right and I deserved it. I don't think I've ever seen Frankie so mad before and that's saying something.

I know I should have reached out sooner, but being out here on the front lines like this, it reminds me of how fleeting life can be. And I wish it didn't take something extreme like that to give me the balls to man up and write this to you but I think we've all established I'm not as brave as I once thought I was.

I have no right asking you for anything, I know that. But I miss you and I want to be a part of our baby's life. And you can ignore this letter or tell me to go fuck myself and I'll listen. If you tell me to stay away, I will. I owe you that much. But I'd… even if you could tell me about them a little, it would mean the world everything to me. And I know I don't deserve shit but I'm selfish and asking you anyway.

I've seen and done a lot of shit in my life and your face has haunted me every single night since the day I walked away. I saw how scared you were. You were just as terrified as me about the baby and I wasn't there for you. I didn't comfort you or reassure you that we'd get through it together. Instead I shut down and told you I couldn't do it, I wouldn't do it. And then you looked at me with such heartbreak that it makes my chest feel tight and I fucking hate it. Every time I close my eyes I remember those looks and I know I'm a piece of shit for ever putting them on your face.

It hurts more that you just accepted it. Like you expected it from me. I guess you knew me well enough to have an idea how it would go when you told me. And then you fucking respected my wishes and didn't contact me about anything. You didn't owe me that. You should have harassed me, called me a piece of shit, fought me, got child support. Fucking something. But of course you didn't. You've always been too kind and caring for that. Always looked after me even when I least deserve it.

And I guess I'm hoping that even through the hate and betrayal you feel for me, that maybe somewhere in there you still care even just a little. Enough to put me out of my misery. Enough to send even a letter with the bare minimum details about our kid. I'm hoping that I didn't change you because you were perfect as you were and the last thing I want is to have fucked you up because of my own insecurities.

There isn't a day that goes by where I don't think of you. Think of the baby. I wonder how you're both doing and if you're happy. I know you'd be a great mom and despite it all, I'm glad that if I had a kid with anyone that it was you. I'm coming back stateside in three weeks. It's gonna kill me not knowing if you've wrote back or not but I won't hold it against you if you don't.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all the pain I caused you. For making you go through all this alone. For walking away from you and the baby like I did. If I was there I'd be down on my knees begging for forgiveness for what I did. All I can hope is that you take some mercy on me, even just a little.

I miss you, Y,N. I miss you so much it hurts and I'm just sorry. Whatever you decide, I'll understand and respect it. I love you. And yeah I probably shouldn't say that, might feel like a smack in the face after everything I've done, but I do. And I know I never told you that when we were together. We were never really 'serious' or whatever, or at least that's what I told myself. But it was only ever you. When I was with you there were no others. And I couldn't see it at the time but I'd fell in love with you the moment we met in that damn grocery store. I don't know if you ever felt the same about me but I know even if you did I've ruined that. I don't expect anything from you. I fucked up and I know that. But it doesn't change that I want to be there now. I want to know about our baby, I want to be part of their life. I want them to grow up knowing I care about them because I do.

I hope to hear from you when I'm back but I won't hold my breath. I hope… I hope you're both doing okay and I'm just sorry for everything. I hope one day you'll be able to forgive me.

Billy

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher #billy russo imagine

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cosmicjoke · 3 years ago

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Ah, chapters 113 & 114 of AoT, and I’ve only got one thing to say.

Zeke, am I supposed to be feel sorry for the bitch? Well I DON’T.

No, seriously, fuck this guuuuuuuuy, I know I keep saying it again and again, but God damn, if these two chapters didn’t just solidify my hatred for the bastard.

First of all, he is just... the most whiny, delusional, self-pitying pathetic loser, just... he really is. I feel like a character in a Peanuts comic strip every time he opens his mouth. All I hear is “whaa, whaa, whaa”. And his delusions of grandeur would almost be funny if they weren’t so pathetic.

Here’s the thing, alright, and I’m sorry if I’m going to offend any Zeke fans with what I’m about to say, but too bad, I guess.

Everything out of this shitheads mouth is a lie. And just because he’s convinced himself of his own bullshit doesn’t make the lies coming out of his mouth any more true.

He turns Levi’s fellow soldiers into Titans. He does this without remorse. Don’t try to tell me Zeke felt bad about it. He didn’t. You know how I know he didn’t? Because in his private moments in the immediate aftermath, he mocks Levi over having done it, gloating about his supposed master plan of using Levi’s compassion against him and utilizing it to ensure Levi’s own demise. Zeke’s entire attitude here is sickeningly unbothered, unburdened, uncaring, and smug in the EXTREME. He mocks Levi’s compassion, literally makes fun of it and lambasts it as a pathetic sign of weakness when he says “I know you’re a caring leader. Your soldiers haven’t done anything wrong. They’ve just grown a little bigger. You wouldn’t, say, slice them to pieces over that, would you?”. This is Zeke making fun of the fact, finding AMUSEMENT in the fact that he’s just murdered 30 people who have never done a single thing to him, and reveling in what he thinks is a victory that will lead to Levi’s own death, reveling in having taken advantage of and weaponizing a better man’s kindness and compassion. Zeke is ENJOYING this moment. Just like he enjoyed killing all those soldiers in Shinganshina. And then, the kicker, and this is a particular point about Zeke that just makes me absolutely sick, he pretends to himself as if he didn’t want to do it. He PLAYS at his own regret, saying, “I didn’t want do this either,” and yet in the very next breath, continues to treat what he’s done with grotesque flippancy, saying “Still, how sad... There wasn’t even a battle or skirmish.” Gloating over how easily he’s bested Levi and his men, before going on to sink further into his insane delusions of grandeur, blaming their inability to trust one another on Levi’s inability to “understand”. I’m sorry, Zeke, but no. You didn’t even TRY to help Levi understand, too wrapped up in your own egotistical god-complex to consider it a possibility. ‘Oh, only I could possibly understand, along with Eren, the great task we two special beings have been burdened with. He makes assumptions about Levi’s life, about the kinds of things he’s seen and experienced, and convinces himself that they couldn’t be anything like what Zeke has (which, hilariously, is all wrong, since out of everyone, Levi knows better than anyone else in the SC what it’s like to be treated as a second class citizen). Zeke just assumes Levi couldn’t possibly ever grasp the complexities of the outside world, and so that’s why Zeke didn’t even bother trying to talk to him. Blah, blah, blah. No, Zeke, you didn’t share your stupid ass plan because you wanted to continue to feel special, like you’re the chosen one who gets to decide the fate of an entire race of people. The most hilarious part of this entire sequence is when Zeke is thinking Levi couldn’t ever understand the concept of all the world’s militaries bearing down on Paradis at once, and what that means, couldn’t grasp the urgency of the situation, as if ZEKE HIMSELF isn’t completely fucking responsible for that situation in the first place. Zeke literally engineered it. He created the problem, and now wants to position himself as the savior. He’s just such a loser man. The God damned definition.

And as if all of that wasn’t bad enough, when it turns out Zeke’s plan to take Levi out failed miserably, and Levi comes after his sorry ass like a bat out of hell, Zeke continues to mock Levi, to laugh at what Levi’s just had to do in order to survive and pursue Zeke. He says “Where’d your adorable little men go!? Don’t tell me you killed them all! The poor things!”. Are you fucking serious? Zeke’s behavior here is one of the most sickening things in the entire story, bar none. The way he laughs at Levi here for having to cut down 30 of his friends and comrades, the absolute display of sociopathic glee and disregard for the severe, horrific trauma he’s just caused this man, is honestly shocking. Man, I’m sorry, but anyone who sympathizes with Zeke over Levi after this display maybe needs to reevaluate their moral compass, because it’s damned broken. And just as an aside, Zeke’s cowardly fear of Levi is also pretty damned funny. He’s just such a bitch./

We go from this perverse display of psychopathic megalomania into Zeke’s backstory, and again, I’m sorry if I’m gonna offend any Zeke fans here, but to all of that, I ask, so effing what? Oh, boohoo, Zeke’s mommy and daddy didn’t shower him with praise or spend any time playing catch with him, and somehow, I guess, this is meant to excuse his attempts later in life to commit mass genocide. Poor, poor Zeke. Yes, his childhood was sad, he experienced neglect from his parents for two whole years, was used by them as a pawn for their idiotic plans, and ended up disappointing his father when it turned out he had no real talent. And again I ask, so what? This sort of experience isn’t exactly what one would call unique, or even extreme. There are countless children in the world who go through the exact same thing in various forms. Parents who put too much pressure on their kids to succeed, parents who try living vicariously through their children, parents who make their disappointment known and even punish their children for failing to live up to their expectations (something Zeke’s parents never did, by the way). The point is, this isn’t even what one would classify as extreme hardship. It’s a sad story of a child being neglected and not receiving enough love from his parents. This isn’t to undermine the very real pain one experiences from those things. Not at all. That pain is real and legitimate. But it’s also fairly common and pedestrian, as far as childhood trauma is concerned, and it doesn’t even remotely begin to justify the extreme lengths of megalomaniacal, sociopathic, genocidal tendencies he later displays. Also, Zeke also had his grandparents, who did love him and spent lots of time with him. He had Mr. Ksaver, who played with him and acted as a mentor to him. It wasn’t like Zeke had no one and grew up with zero connections. That’s BS.

Levi calls this bitch on his shit later in chapter 114, as Zeke’s muttering away in his delusions about how he’s “saving everyone”. He asks Zeke “That was your plan? Mercy killings?”. Levi’s asking Zeke here who the hell gave him the right to decide who lives and who dies? Who gave him the right to decide who’s life is WORTH living? When Levi says him getting to die by being eaten by a Titan is pretty merciful, considering he stole the lives of so many of his comrades, Zeke’s reply speaks volumes about just how warped and demented his thinking is, when he says “I stole nothing. I... saved them. Them and the children they would have... I saved them all... from this cruel world.”. He’s literally justifying murdering countless people by trying to redefine that murder as “saving” them. It’s not murder because it saved them from ever having to suffer again! He’s absolving himself here of his sins by casting his actions in not just a favorable light, but trying to sell them as heroic and admirable. He takes no, actual responsibility for what he’s done. He removes himself from that responsibility by pretending he was doing a good thing, an honorable, noble thing, by murdering a whole bunch of people who’d never done jack shit to him. Yippee for Zeke, I guess. He’s the very definition of an ego-maniac, of someone suffering from a messiah complex. He’s insane, and morally depraved. The very fact that he’s the one who comes up with the idea of eradicating the Eldian race by rendering them infertile is only further proof of this. What teenager comes up with a plan to exterminate an entire race of people and thinks it’s a good idea?

Right before he blows himself and Levi up, he screams “I’m hope you’re watching, Mr. Ksaver!”. He’s indulging in his own, fanciful notions of himself as the “chosen one”, as a unique person who alone is capable of delivering humanity to salvation. He’s showing off, asking Mr. Ksaver to watch him as he “saves the world”, because all he cares about, really, is making himself feel special, of fulfilling what he’s deluded himself into believing is his destiny, his right to decide the fate of the world.

And then he almost kills Levi in the process.

I swear, I wish Levi had just chopped his shitty head off right then and there. No one can blame Levi for chopping the bastards legs up like he did, for being so angry. It wasn’t just that Zeke had killed so many of his fellow soldiers by turning them into Titans, or tried to kill Levi by turning them into Titans, it’s also how Zeke laughed about it, and laughed at the pain he’d caused Levi, treating all of it as if it was worth nothing, and then having the unmitigated gall to cast himself as the hero bestowing his benevolent mercy on all. Give me a fucking break.

Fuck you Zeke. I hope you rot in hell, you dumb shit.

Also, fuck you to Floch too. I hate that bastard almost as much.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #Levi Ackerman #zeke yeager #snk 113 #snk 114 #meta #thoughts

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whileyoursleeping · 3 years ago

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Here

Hello all, I wrote a lil oneshot post-canon for the season 4 finale. Shameless fluff. You’ve been warned. This has also been posted on AO3 - link HERE: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31520699

TW: Mentions of the shooting; mentions of PTSD.

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Buck wears socks to bed.

It’s disturbing in a way. Eddie doesn’t know anyone above the age of ten who still wears socks to bed – except, apparently, Buck.

Buck is also still sleeping on his couch.

Eddie’s been home for a week. He’s mastered the on-off motion of his sling for the shower, he’s sleeping okay – as okay as anyone can while being literally fucking shot for no good reason, and not even in Afghanistan, at that – and he’s not in significant amounts of pain, anymore. The meds have taken care of that, and he’s taking them dutifully, because he might not like them but Chris needs him. Chris needs him more a little stoned than he does bedridden from pain.

But it’s been a week, and Buck is still sleeping on his couch.

It’s not even comfortable. Buck’s not small enough to fit on there without cramping up. And Eddie just – kind of hasn’t told him to go home, and Buck just kind of isn’t going home, he’s more or less just ferrying his things back and forth between Eddie’s coffee table and his own apartment, studiously avoiding eye contact each time, as if Eddie is going to catch his eye and say – well, say what? “Go home? Thanks for taking care of my son and carrying my lifeless body to the fire truck and risking your fucking neck again to save my life and keeping a vigil – but go home?” Not fucking likely.

So he’s sleeping on Eddie’s couch. And Eddie’s not sure how to approach it – or if he even wants to approach it. Buck was scared. He said as much, and other people said as much, and Eddie remembers Buck picking him up and putting him in the ambulance. Fire truck? He doesn’t remember the details, he just – remembers Buck picking him up.

If he’s honest with himself – and he’s trying to be after that whole “follow your own heart” crap Carla pulled on him – he doesn’t particularly want Buck to leave. Buck saved his life, and Eddie feels weirdly safer with him here. It’s nice to have him around in the mornings – even if he looks tired. Even if Eddie’s couch has not been useable as a couch in over a week now.

He wanders into the living room that morning to find that Buck is already rubbing his eyes, sleepily, looking totally worn out and like he’d like to go back to sleep, but can’t. He sits when he hears Eddie enter – a dog standing at attention.

“Okay?” he checks worriedly.

Eddie smiles drowsily. “You know the pain meds keep me pleasantly high almost all day, right?”

“Yeah.” Buck doesn’t look soothed. “But you’re okay?”

“Yeah, Buck. I’m okay.” Eddie pats his shoulder on the way past, yawning. “Breakfast?”

“I’ll make pancakes.”

~*~

Buck is exhausted.

Eddie knows this because Eddie wakes up a lot at night and goes wandering. He does this because despite the pain pills, he’s just not moving enough to be tired, and his normal army sleep schedule never really left him. He’s like a fucked-up, traumatised meerkat – awake every two to three hours, patrolling the perimeter, looking for enemies.

Just so happens that his perimeter is the length of his hallway between Chris’s room and the couch, where Buck is decidedly not resting peacefully. His enemy, at the moment? The Roomba. Chris has stuck several dozen googly eyes to it and, at one point, had armed it with a butter knife. It’s mildly terrifying. Butter-knife-less at the moment – but terrifying. Eddie squints at it as he moves towards the kitchen.

(“Because it’s funny, Dad,” he’d giggled. “Maybe it’ll make Buck laugh.”

Buck had laughed, but in a strained, I’m-so-tired-I-want-to-cry kind of way. Eddie’s dreading coming off his pain pills for the pure fact that it’ll probably be him next. PTSD is a bitch.)

He was going to get water, but that requires moving through the living room. Buck is crashed out on the couch – his duffel is spilling over on the floor, his phone facedown on the coffee table. Eddie can see him relatively well with the street lights and moon lighting up the smallish living room – he doesn’t look like he’s sleeping peacefully. In fact, even as Eddie watches, Buck twitches.

He goes ramrod still, abruptly not thinking about his heavily-armed Roomba or meerkat analogies. He is suddenly, painfully, sober – the pain pills feel burned out of him as he watches Buck twist, his fingers twitching and then curling into the duvet, face scrunched.

A nightmare. Buck is having a nightmare. Eddie’s not high anymore. The pills are no longer filling his head with cotton and fuzz – every single sense feels alight like it hasn’t in two weeks, tuned in to Buck, struggling, on the couch.

What’s he supposed to do? What can he do?

He watches, alarmed, as Buck gasps and jerks – his stupid socked feet flail and kick into the arm of the couch, and the duvet goes flying back. Buck’s upright, at least semi-upright, on one elbow, panting and scrabbling against the thin, shitty mattress – for what? Purchase? A hand to hold? A memory to cling to, something to soothe him through the remainder of the night?

The room’s quiet. Eddie’s frozen, unsure of what to do. Is this what it was like after the tsunami?

After a moment, Buck makes a sound – a whimper, or a cry, or some awful hybrid of the two – and collapses back, rolls onto his side, away from the TV, and curls up, not bothering to adjust the duvet. His feet – he’s wearing white socks tonight – flex, toes clenching.

Buck drags the corner of the duvet up over his face. The next noise he makes is very clearly a quiet sob and Eddie – oh, he cannot stand this. He’s not going to watch it any longer.

It’s not like he doesn’t know Buck hasn’t been sleeping, at least not well. He did the first night – eleven hours, actually – but every night after that has been plagued with nightmares. He’s heard Buck rustling around or pacing and watched him try to put on a brave face every morning at breakfast, and he can’t do it anymore.

His feet cross the floorboards. He sits on the edge of the couch – Buck flinches – and puts his free hand on Buck’s shoulder, rubs gently.

Buck sniffles. He doesn’t move for a long time, keeps the duvet up over his face. He doesn’t make any more noises, but his shoulders shake, and Eddie remembers – I kinda lost it when I told him you got shot. I’m sorry, I should’ve held it together.

Eddie wonders when anyone reasonably expected Buck to hold it together.

Buck moves suddenly – his fingers grip at Eddie’s, and they’re shaking. He holds on and – well, if Buck wants to hold hands, it’s not like they haven’t done it before. Eddie held his hand for an hour or more while they were getting him out from under the ladder truck two years ago. Eddie’s happy to hold his hand.

He doesn’t know how to help. Buck’s still sniffling, his face angled away from Eddie’s. He’s happy to take the comfort, but not happy to let Eddie know he’s crying, apparently.

They sit like that for a while. Eddie’s helpless and almost angry for it. It’s not like he hasn’t suffered – he has. It’s going to take therapy, physical and mental, to get past this. But Buck – Buck watched it happen. Watched him almost die. Buck’s not stoned and he wasn’t shot and there’s no buffer between him and the memories. For the first time, Eddie is angry at the team – how has no one noticed? How has no one cared?

Buck drags a hand across his eyes. “Sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Bet you’re sick of me crying.”

“What?” Eddie asks. “No, I – I am, but not for the reason you’re thinking.”

Buck nods into the pillow. His legs flex – he has to be cold; the air is definitely cool and Buck hates cold weather with a passion. He’s wearing socks and boxers and a hoodie and all of that thoroughly confuses Eddie – he wants to arrange the duvet properly but he can’t with Buck clinging to his hand. That’s fine too.

He thinks about it for a moment. Problem – Buck is sad; Buck is scared. Buck is clearly traumatised. Nobody appears to have addressed that last one.

Solution. Well, Chris seems to help a lot. But Chris is asleep, and Eddie can’t really properly address the trauma thing.

But he can maybe make Buck feel less alone.

He removes his hand from Buck’s shoulder, clumsily adjusts the duvet, and then climbs under it, adjusting until his side is pressed to Buck’s back and he can feel Buck trembling horribly against him. His legs twitch; his socks brush Eddie’s bare feet.

“Why do you wear socks to bed?” Eddie asks.

There’s a long pause. Then, “That’s what you want to know?”

“Sure.”

“I… don’t know?”

Eddie makes a face at the ceiling. Buck hasn’t rolled over. “You don’t know?” he asks dubiously. “Are your feet cold?”

“Not particularly.”

“Do you wear socks to bed in summer?”

“I… sort of do it all year round – Eddie, what’re you doing?”

He doesn’t know, truthfully, beyond trying to cheer Buck up. Although, maybe he just – needs to cry? Sometimes when Chris is upset he just needs to cry. No solutions, just… comfort.

He pushes against Buck’s back more, and, because he can’t reach Buck’s hands like this, links their ankles together. Buck shifts – but only to stop the knobs of their bones rubbing uncomfortably. He sighs, shakily, but when breath finally leaves his lungs entirely, he almost feels steadier.

“Thanks, Eddie,” he whispers.

~*~

Buck rolls during the night, a soft breath leaving him. Eddie’s only aware of it because it ghosts across his throat – Buck’s rolled towards him.

The mattress shifts. Buck is deliciously warm against Eddie’s side – his socked feet brush against Eddie’s shins, a few times, almost deliberately. Buck sighs again, settles.

The air goes still. Eddie can smell something new and different, faintly – the couch bed smells like Buck, like the woody, fresh scent of his aftershave and a little spicy and like Buck’s own shampoo. There’s something indefinable about it – something that’s just how Buck smells.

Eddie yawns. His jaw cracks. His shoulder, at the moment, doesn’t hurt, even when he shifts and looks for Buck’s hand, clumsily – he finds it, pulls it up until he can link their fingers together and rest their joined palms on his own belly. He squeezes. Are you there?

A second passes before Buck squeezes back. His palms are rough and hot and his thumb nervous where it brushes Eddie’s knuckles.

Yes. I’m here.

Eddie yawns. He goes back to sleep.

~*~

The sunlight punching through the living room window wakes him up.

He blinks. He’s on his back still – his feet are cold. When he turns his head to the side, the first thing he sees is Buck’s face – buried somewhere in the vicinity of Eddie’s shoulder, eyes closed, mouth slightly open.

He’s drooling. It’s a little cute. Eddie raises his head – his shoulder twinges unhappily – and looks to the end of the couch.

Yep. Buck’s still wearing socks. His legs are curled up, almost like he’s trying to keep warm, and he’s more or less pressed to Eddie’s side, but not quite on top of him.

Eddie’s struck with the sudden though that if his shoulder wasn’t injured, he’d roll over – put an arm over Buck and let Buck hide as long as he needed to. He can’t do that right now, and the impulse is frightening if only because it doesn’t come from the so-called brotherly love he’s continued to tell himself is what he feels for Buck.

It’s not so frightening he can’t deal with it though. Quietly. And he might not be able to hug Buck right now – but Buck slept through till morning, the first time in more than a week in all likelihood. He even looks peaceful.

If Eddie does pursue this – whatever this is, this little, fledgling, hopeful thing in his chest – he can only hope that Buck reciprocates. It’ll take time, of course. Plenty of it. But – Buck is already Chris’s other parent in the ways that matter and he’s kept bedside vigils and they slept here, last night, holding hands for the majority of it. Is there a lot left to think about? Eddie doesn’t think so.

He raises his head again. Looks down.

Except those socks, maybe. He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to that.

#buddie fic #buddie #buck/eddie #look we all just needed some fucking COMFORT okay

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padsnprongs · 4 years ago

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wolfstar headcanons that ✨just make sense✨

french sirius and welsh remus

they would speak to each other in their different languages all the time, mostly just to mess with each other.

they’d also say really romantic things, but in their different language, so the other wouldn’t know

remus is like insanely tall, but always slouches, whereas sirius is literally a dwarf but stands up really tall (talk about that ✨aristocracy✨ you know)

when remus had his growth spurt in the summer of fifth year, sirius was, understandably, shocked

but also maybe a little annoyed

how was he supposed to kiss him now?

in the end he decided to just grab his tie and pull him down

which remus didn't particularly mind

remus keeps his hair short, because it gets in the way. sirius loves remus' hair, because of how curly it is - remus hates it for the same reason

'I look like an idiot, pads!'

'no, you look cute.'

after sirius started living with the potters', his hair grew long, finally free of the strict rules of grimmauld place

when remus saw his long hair for the first time, on the train platform, he fell in love with him a little more

sirius turns into padfoot on the days surrounding the full moon to comfort remus. he’s literally like a therapy dog at this point.

sirius’ bed hasn’t been slept in since fifth year

cuddles

so many cuddles

lots of pda, much to james’ disgust

‘ugh, you guys, get a room!’

‘prongsie stop being homophobic.’

‘im not- what am i even supposed to say to that??’

‘nothing, that’s the point.’

sirius has a tattoo of the full moon that changes with the moon phases and remus has a tattoo of the canis major constellation - while the rest are just inked on, the sirius star seems to be actually glowing.

remus always seems to lose his jumpers, even though they’re some of his most valued items of clothing. he will eventually find sirius wearing them, but he can’t even be mad because sirius just looks so adorable in them.

remus, in return, will steal sirius’ leather jacket, which sirius doesn’t particularly mind. james, however, gets especially mad whenever this happens

‘well how come he’s allowed to wear it and I’m not? I’m literally your brother!’

sirius rests his head on remus’ lap whilst remus reads to him, and remus will stroke his hand through sirius' hair

remus loves to french plait his hair, and sirius is adamant about leaving the plait in for as long as possible

‘sirius, it’s been three days, you need to wash your hair! I can always re-plait it!’

‘...fine. but only if you promise.’

remus is constantly freezing cold, which shows through the countless jumpers and scarves he will pile on, even in the height of summer

his feet alone are like blocks of ice, which sirius never misses an opportunity to complain about whenever they share a bed

sirius, on the other hand, is a human sauna, and will still be wearing shorts in the middle of winter

when they cuddle, their contrasting levels of body heat cancel each other out perfectly

basically, whenever remus gets too cold, or sirius gets too hot, you’ll undoubtedly find them clinging to each other

sirius always gets really worried after the full moon, and insists on looking after remus - he makes sure he has enough pillows, sneaks him food because the hospital wing food isn’t the nicest, makes him drink water, takes notes for him during the lessons he misses, and just generally stays by his side as long as he can, until madam pomfrey has to kick him out

sirius worries so much during and after the full moon that it often makes remus feel guilty, but he also finds it really sweet that sirius cares so much

he still tries to make sirius see sense and stop him from worrying, because he has really bad self esteem issues after the full moon and doesn’t think he deserves it. whenever he tries to tell sirius this, he says that sirius shouldn’t feel obligated to look after him, because he’s a monster.

every single time, sirius will take his hand, look into his eyes, and tell him firmly, ‘you are not a monster, moony.’

peter will then add that ‘you fold your socks, moony, we’re not exactly scared of you.’

and remus will wonder how he got so lucky as to have such amazing friends

whenever sirius is ill, remus will try his best to return the favour. sirius will insist that he doesn’t get ill, ‘don’t worry, remus, I’m fine’, even though he can barely move

but remus won’t listen, and turns into a proper mother hen, fussing over him and making sure he has everything he need, just trying to repay sirius for all he does during the full moons

illness = constant cuddles

but lbr there are constant cuddles regardless

they got together because they both kept confiding in james and lily about their unrequited feelings and how hopelessly in love they were, and james and lily got sick of it and decided to work together to set them up bc they were both so hopelessly oblivious.

that’s also how lily got to know james better, and see that he wasn’t as arrogant as she thought, and he actually cares deeply about his friends

but these are wolfstar headcanons not jily so moving on

they had a very touchy feely relationship even before they got together. they were always very close, and their bond was different than it was with james and peter

sirius loves to bake, whilst remus loves to cook, but if they try to do it the other way around, bad things happen

they would often sneak into the kitchens late at night and try to make something, fool around, mess up, and end up snogging surrounded by the mess of ingredients

late nights on the astronomy tower!! they did this even before they got together; when either of them couldn’t sleep, they would go up there and just sit together and look at the stars. their first date was a picnic up there, and it became their own special place where they both felt safe

nose kisses!! forehead kisses!! cheek kisses!! adorable

whenever they're messing about they'll almost always end up in each others arms, saying ‘I hate you’ whilst grinning bc they both know that they don’t mean it and it’s actually the exact opposite

when sirius can’t sleep, he’ll watch remus (in like. a non-creepy way) and count his freckles. once remus caught him in the act and thought it was the softest thing he’d ever seen

remus talks in his sleep. sometimes he just mutters random words that don’t make sense, and sometimes he can have full on conversations with sirius.

sirius thinks it’s the funniest thing ever and teases remus mercilessly about it in the mornings, even though remus has no memory of it and denies everything.

when they’re alone in the hospital wing after a full moon, sirius will hold remus’ hand and sing softly to comfort him and help him sleep.

remus absolutely adores sirius' voice, and tries to get him to sing more, and in front of other people, but sirius is adamant that the only reason he sings to remus is because it helps soothe him, and his voice isn’t all that great.

his lack of self confidence about his voice is due to his parents constantly yelling at him to stop singing, because they said it was annoying and he didn’t have a good voice, and he believed them, and still does. It’s one of his biggest insecurities.

the first time they said they loved each other was actually an accident. they had gotten all caught up in planning a prank and sirius smirked and said, ‘aren’t i just the most creative person you’ve ever met?’, with a dramatic flip of his hair

remus just chuckled and replied, ‘that’s why I love you.’

remus didn’t even realise he’d said it out loud until he saw sirius staring at him with a dropped jaw.

then remus panicked, but before he could get up and leave, sirius grinned and said it back.

and then they kissed, obviously

remus may be tough and sarcastic and sirius may be proud and overconfident but they’re both big softies really

remus cheers sirius on at every single quidditch practice, come rain or shine

he says he’s just supporting his boyfriend, but secretly he thinks Sirius looks really good in that quidditch jersey

remus loves it when sirius wears eyeliner. no reason. just looks cool.

literally everyone had a bet on when they would get together. minnie and dumbledore, james and pete, lily and marlene, james and lily, james and dorcas...

james likes betting

there are frequent updates on their relationship in the staff room, because all of the teachers just know they're meant to be

the teachers had a field day when they first got together

madam pomfrey, especially, always sees them together in the hospital wing, and by fourth year, is their no1 shipper

they both get frequent nightmares, and will always comfort each other and cuddle after because they feel safe in each other’s arms.

literally the least toxic relationship ever. they’re both incredibly honest with each other, always talk to each other about how they feel, but also have that perfect balance of banter

if not soulmates, why moon and stars??

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skiller0dani · 4 years ago

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Obliviate | Draco Malfoy

M A S T E R L I S T Harry Potter Masterlist

very sad (light) smut requested requests info

this is so sad. I’m sorryyyyy. also if you wanted to set the mood more, I listened to THIS while writing it. Please listen to it, it wont be the same without the song lmao

Part 1/10 (Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)(Part 6)(Part 7)(Part 8)(Part 9)(Part 10)

Draco had thought back to every other time in his life where he had felt like this, and nothing came to mind. There wasn’t another second of his torturous life that felt like this. He tended to count his blessings where he had them, and you were a blessing in his life. One that he woke up every single day thanking God for, Draco isn’t sure he’d ever love anyone the way he loves you. But he knew from the start, that the two of you were doomed, two lovers caught on each side of the war. His Father in direct relation with the Dark Lord, and you- Harry Potter’s cousin. There was a target on your back from the second you got to Hogwarts all those years ago and when Draco had first met you- he didn’t understand just how much danger you were already in.

Nobody looked at Draco the way you did, nobody looked at him like he was worth saving. But when you looked at him, you saw something in him that he didn’t even see in himself. Draco believes that he was never a good person until he met you, and even then whether or not he was good is still up to debate. You inspire people to be better, to be good and if there is no good- you create it. You are a light in an everlasting darkness, and he doesn’t deserve you. But selfishly he wants to keep you- and he knows you’d never voluntarily leave him. He had to make the choice for you. You can’t stubbornly stand by his side if you don’t remember you’re in love with him.

The Black Lake looks darker than Draco remembered it being. The view he currently held from the astronomy tower was beautiful in it’s own way, but now that he held every memory you have of him in his hands- the beauty seemed to slip out of the world. Looking down at the small vial in his hands, the vial containing your memories of him, his bottom lip quivers. He can’t stand how emotional you make him, you make him feel both weak and strong at the same time. His hand curls around the vial, Draco knows this is what he needs to do. He never expected it to be this hard though.

Closing his eyes, Draco decided to take one last walk down memory lane before he would destroy your memories of him forever.

The first time you had met Draco was when you were stood on the steps next to your cousin, Harry. Draco was stood in front of you, and although his eyes were on Harry- the blush on his cheeks came from being so close to you. Draco had held his head high, even when you snapped at him and told him how wonderful you found Ron to be. Draco always admired your sharp tongue, your unwillingness to step down when you felt passionately about something. He’s going to miss being your voice of reason, or the hand that holds you back when you’re ready to literally fight for what you believe in. You always say what you’re really thinking, how you’re really feeling. That’s something Draco has never really had the strength to do. If he did he would have said he loved you more often, and perhaps would have told Harry that he doesn’t hate him.

Draco vividly remembers the first time you looked at him, and saw him in a way nobody else does. Not even Crabbe and Goyle. He was sat in the back corner of the Library, hiding away from everyone and everything after receiving yet another disappointed letter from his Father. You’d been gathering books to study for Potions when you spotted him sitting secluded, alone. You didn’t hesitate to go sit next to him, and when you looked over at him you saw every emotion he carefully hid from the world written plainly on his face. As if you had the only key to unlock the innermost parts of his brain. After a few minutes of gentle coaxing, Draco eventually began to open up to you about his Father and in return you opened up about your terrible parents. About how abusive they were to Harry- how much that hurt you. Draco hadn’t given it a second thought when you revealed you were muggle born. Really Draco didn’t mind, nor did it offend him in the way he acted it did but for his Father Draco must keep up appearances.

He still feels guilty remembering how you recoiled away from him when he had spat the word ‘mudblood’ in your direction. He feels guilty as he remembers the tears trickling down your cheeks. Even that feeling paled in comparison to the way Draco feels now.

Draco remembers the first time you kissed him, and yes much to his embarrassment it was you that kissed him. You always were someone who went after what you wanted. He was in the Hospital wing after Buckbeak attacked him. Despite him being the biggest prat you’d ever met, you still went to see him anyway. You sat next to Draco in the bed, seeing the tears well in his eyes at the revelation Buckbeak would be executed. Sure he was angry the stupid thing attacked him but never would he want Buckbeak killed for it. Draco wasn’t entirely surprised to learn his Father had threatened the committee in order for Buckbeak to be sentenced. It’s not Draco that his Father cared about, it’s the family image. You had cupped his cheeks, and gently pressed your lips to his. It was the only thing you could think to do to soothe him, and it worked. Draco melted against you, his sorrows briefly muted by the feeling of your lips on his own. He thinks he might have fallen in love with you right at that moment.

The first time you went to Hogsmeade with him was the following year, during the winter. Your cheeks were rosy and your hand was as cold as ice around his warmer palm. He remembers you squealing with excitement as it began to snow again, the soft flakes fluttering gently around you. You truly did look like an angel. The snow stuck to your hair as you turned to look at him, “make a snowman with me!” Your voice was lilted, almost melodic as the happiness you felt carried over into your tone. While Draco didn’t normally do silly things like making snowmen, he couldn’t fight the smile that split across his face as he helped you roll the bottom of the snowman. Before that moment, Draco never knew joy like that even existed. It was only later that he discovered that this kind of joy only existed when he was with you.

The first time the words ‘I love you’ graced the space between your lips was when you’d both met at the astronomy tower at midnight. The stars were twinkling beautifully, but even so Draco couldn’t keep his eyes off you. You blushed, refusing to meet his eye. You were always insecure, which baffled Draco immensely. How could you believe any other girl is anywhere close to being as pretty as you? There’s not another woman on the face of this Earth that compares to you, and you would often giggle and tell him to stop when he would begin his long ‘you’re the most beautiful girl’ rant. You had led Draco to believe, that maybe he and Harry could find peace. You were in fact, the only thing they had in common. The words fell right out of his mouth before he could pause to give them any thought. “I love you,” The air seemed to stiffen around him, crushing him as he watched you. You didn’t hesitate.

“I love you Draco.” It was the best moment of his life.

Draco will never forget the first time he was allowed to see the beauty of your bare skin. You’d think it would be easier to find places to be alone in this great big castle, eventually Draco had settled for the edge of the Black Lake- far from the castle. The journey out to the Lake had started innocently, the both of you quite enjoyed star gazing and spending your evenings together. You’d been sitting next to him, watching the large tentacles of the monster that lives in the Lake toss you things from the depths. You really did have a way in bringing out the good in everything, you’d even managed to befriend the monster that lives in the Lake. “Wow look at this,” your voice was quiet with amazement as you turned over a beautiful amulet in your hands. It was simple, silver chain with a white gem that shone as brightly as the moon. The Lake monster had given it to you, and Draco remembers the soft sigh that left your lips as his hands graced the back of your neck, fastening the amulet.

Draco remembers the delicate way you turned to face him, how your eyes never left his as you carefully slid onto his lap. Your hands were placed on his shoulders as your lips met in a slow and languid kiss. The searing heat built between you two and seemed to draw your most intimate parts together. Without realizing, you’d begun to gently grind against Draco- drawing out soft moans from his lips. Never before had Draco felt this kind of desire for another person. His hands slid up your back and carefully removed each layer of clothing that was in between him and your bare skin. Your skin was flushed as Draco’s lips explored your naked body, carefully turning you over so that he would hover above you. You gripped fistfuls of the grass as Draco had found his home in between your legs, laving your sensitive folds with his tongue and mouth. It felt like heaven, and he knew it did. He could see it on your face, and you looked so beautiful.

The desire burning inside you began to beat between your legs like a drum as you pulled Draco back up your body. Nuzzling his nose against yours, Draco slipped the head of his member in between your folds. The thought of hurting you made him feel sick to his stomach, but with a few gentle words of encouragement from you, he was gently working himself inside your tight heat. The feeling was incomparable, indescribable, suffocating, and intoxicating all at the same time. Draco knew that here on the grass, between your legs, was somewhere he wanted to be forever. If he could capture this moment in something more than his minds eye he would, he wants this memory to live forever. He rocked into you again and again, losing himself in the way your body felt against his. Never had Draco felt so connected to another person, you had him, mind body and soul. He was falling into that pit now, no doubt about it, and there was no way out. He was head over heels in love, not that he minded.

Draco would do anything to keep you safe, and he really means that.

Draco had grown distant from you this year, mostly because of the swirling black tattoo on his left forearm. The Dark Mark. He knew in an instant that you had to stay as far from him as humanly possible, and while he tried to stay away, he was weak and kept falling back into your embrace. He needed to convince you to stay away from him, and if he couldn’t...then he had to make you. You’d confronted him this evening, with tears in your eyes and a tremble in your hands. You wanted, needed, to know what was going on. Why he felt so far away from you. So Draco pressed a kiss to your forehead, took your hand, and led you here. To the Astronomy tower, a place where so many monumentous things happened between you. This would be the perfect place to say goodbye.

You staggered back when he lifted his sleeve. The breath was stolen from your lungs when you saw the Dark Mark, writhing and wriggling on his arm. Tears built in your eyes as you looked at him, his name falling past your broken lips. How could this have happened? How could he let this happen? You wanted to scream, to tear your hair out, to cry, to do anything but your body wouldn’t let you. You simply stood frozen before him, feeling as though the most powerful force in the world was tearing the two of you apart. The next words out of his mouth shattered you beyond repair.

“You need to stay away from me, for your own good. And for Harry’s.” It was the first time he’d ever used Harry’s first name, that’s how you knew he really meant this. But you couldn’t, you loved Draco with every ounce of your heart, how could you leave him? You shook your head vehemently, tears now free falling down your cheeks. “I-I can’t.” You gasped, watching a pained expression cross onto Draco’s face. He didn’t want to do this, he really didn’t want to do this but the thought of you getting tortured or killed by Voldemort replays in his mind. He couldn’t put you in danger, not for something so selfish, not because he loves you. It’s because he loves you that he’s willing to let you go, that he’s willing to make this sacrifice if it means keeping you safe.

When he turns to you again, his wand is raised and the look on his face is one you’ve never seen before. His hand is trembling, his eyes look hollow and his mouth is quivering. He looks desperate, he looks distraught, but most of all, he looks broken. “Draco,” You whisper, tears in your eyes as you look up at him, your hand finding the railing behind you. “You have to stay away from me.” Draco gasps, desperately fighting tears.

“Please don’t do this.” Your voice is weak, you know what’s coming next. You’re smart enough to connect the dots.

Draco’s hand wavers, “I have to.” His voice is final, but his body looks as though it’s falling apart. Thoughts of him facing what he must face, without your love, sends panic through your chest. He’ll have to endure the pain, the struggles, all of it, alone. You want to be there for him, you don’t care about the danger. Draco knows you don’t, that’s why he has to do this.

“Baby please, I love you.” You cry desperately, and Draco feels his heart burning to dust in his chest as he looks down at you. “I love you too.” He breathes, closing his eyes and steeling his nerves for what he is going to do next. “Draco!” Your voice comes out as a cry of desperation, and you lurch forward. But Draco is faster.

“Obliviate.” He whispers the word into the open air, watching as you halt, your tearful eyes locked on his. “Draco,” You whisper as a light of blue slips from your head and into the tip of Draco’s wand. Your hands drop to your sides, and your eyes fall flat, looking through him now, seeing him as everyone else does. Your face is empty, expressionless as you watch him. Lowering his wand, Draco slips your memories into the vial as you blink in confusion before sending him a nervous smile. You look around briefly, before reaching over to grab your coat. You brush past Draco without looking at him again, offering a hollow ‘goodnight’ over your shoulder as you go. Draco feels empty, emptier than he ever has. It’s only now that he lets a tear slide down his cheek.

His hands were shaking as he leaned over the railing, the cool wind chilling him. The view laid out before him doesn’t hold any beauty in it anymore, and it feels as though all the color has drained from the world. Grasping the vial tightly in his hand, Draco squeezes his eyes shut before throwing it as hard as he could over the edge of the astronomy tower. He watches with bleary eyes as the vial of your memories, the vial containing your love for him disappears into the Black Lake. This is the right thing to do, but Draco can’t fight how wrong it feels. He knows now that he’ll never be the same, but he turns anyway. Straightens his suit, wipes his tears, and begins the journey back to his common room.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy smut #draco x reader #draco x you #harry potter #harry potter smut #hogwarts #sad smut #Sad Imagine #obliviate #gentle smut #bittersweet

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ellana-ravenwood · 4 years ago

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Sick Day - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : It’s never fun to be sick. Duh. But when you have loving parents there to take care of you, maybe it isn’t so bad ? Just short little snippets of the first time each Batkids fell ill in Wayne Manor, and how Bruce and his wife (you :D) dealt with it.

Another “burst of the moment inspiration” story, just a little drabble. Promise I’ll post something more elaborate soon :), hope you’ll like it :

My master list blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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(Thanks to that anon who mentioned the kids getting shots, that gave me with this an idea on how to start this fic :D. The original beginning was different, I think I like that one better hehe.)

"Mister Wayne, if you keep doing this, I'm not going to be able to give your son-Bruce for god's sake !"

Leslie Thompkins, for the first time in her long career, was about to lose her patience and give up on...giving a simple shot to a baby.

She has seen worried parents before, of course. The one that clung to their child’s hand, or those who would cry because their little one was in pain…

Babies that young, who had to get vaccinated for the first time, never really experienced this sort of quick pain before.

A lot of them would cry more out of surprise than because it really hurt. Oh and when the parents were extra worried, you could be sure the baby was even more likely to burst into tears, sensing his parents' distress.

Yes. doctor Thompkins gave shots to a LOT of babies, and saw a LOT of worried parents before…But never had she met someone quite like Bruce Wayne.

He always came to her when his kids were sick. He could go to a fancier office, or to one of those pricy fancy private hospitals. But no.

No because, when it came to his kids’ health, there was no one he trusted more than Doctor Leslie Thompkins.

So it was no surprise when he brought his youngest son, Thomas, to get his first shot ever. What was a surprise though, was his reaction.

"And now you know why I'm always the only one in the room when this happens."

You say, smiling apologetically to the doctor. But ah, at least your husband's reaction eased a little the tension in your body brought by the mere idea of your baby being hurt.

Every single time Leslie got the syringe close to your little one, Bruce would reflexively grab her wrist and stop her from giving the shot to his son.

Ridiculous, really.

But it seemed it was something he couldn't fight.

He apologized the first time he did it, as Dr Thompskins smiled and said it was ok, rather amused. But then the second time, it was getting clear he didn't seem to quite control himself. At the third time Bruce was visibly sweating. Dr Thompkins finally snapped as she tried for a fourth and fifth time to give a shot to little Thomas (who, at barely 2 months old, was much too young to even understand what was happening, but by his little smiles it was clear he was happy every time his father would come into his vision).

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just…I thought I could do it, but I can't."

And oh. Oh it's adorable the way he turns to you, his eyes saying "I'm sorry" as he takes his son back in his arms and holds him against his chest. You weren’t sure if it was to comfort little Tommy, or if he was comforting himself.

"I think I should just let you two handle this ?" He asks, unsure. He doesn’t want you to be mad or to think he’s abandoning you.

"I think this is a good idea Bruce, yes."

You smile at him reassuringly. It’s fine. It was always fine.

"I'm sorry, sorry I'm letting you do this alone once again. I just can't…"

"Oh it's ok my Broosh, I know you hate shots. I can handle it, and little buddy here sure can too."

Thomas coos happily as you pick him up delicately from his father's arms. Bruce resists a bit, before finally giving in and letting you take hold of the little one.

He lays a hand on his son's head, looking fondly at him (of this look he only gives his children, of this pure look full of unconditional love, and a hint of “what did I do to deserve this sort of happiness ?”) and then sighs, press a soft kiss to your forehead, murmuring a last “I’m sorry, my love” and leaves the room.

He feels a little ashamed to let you do this once again, but you've always been the strongest one out of the two. After all, you willingly decided to marry a man like him…

"Alright Mrs Wayne, ready ? And here we-oh not you too (Y/N) !"

"I'm sorry I'm sorry, I don't know what took over me, it was just a reflex too !"

You apologize, as you let go of the doctor's wrist…

Yeah, it was just a gut reaction to seeing a scary needle approaching your baby's thigh. In your line of um, nightly work, you came to be very wary, of syringes. You still remember vividly that time Tim got hit with one of Scarecrows’ needle, and how terrible this night had been...

"Ok ok, now is fine. Go. I'm ready. Go fast though, now. Now I’m not looking. Go. Go. Go."

Tears welling up in your eyes at the mere thought of this happening, you look away as you hold your son still (something he doesn't like as clearly shown by his little sound of protest, and as he starts to fuss about), and in one, two seconds…it's done.

And not a peep from your son.

He just stopped making any sound (he've always been rather vocal), his eyes went wide, and he made a face that looked like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to cry or not. Then there’s one more second, and Leslie had a soothing bandaid on his little leg, and you were holding him against your heart, and the pain was so fleeting and already gone, that he just gets over it quickly, feeling your love.

Calming down instantly, not noticing the tears in your eyes (thank god, or it’d be a sure way to make him weep too).

And so he doesn't cry. And everything is ok again.

“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it ?”

“Actually, it was.”

You say, barely holding your tears in, your son cooing in your arms

“Um...I was talking to Thomas.”

Leslie answers, amused. And just like that, you both burst into laughter.

After a few minutes of this uncontrollable fit of giggles, you thank Leslie for her help, and leave the room, joining your husband who had been walking back and forth in the waiting room, nervous.

He comes immediately to you and Thomas, and as soon as the boy sees his dad he smiles widely and giggles. Bruce gives him a soft smile, before turning to you :

“How was it ?”

“For me ? Not great. For Tommy ? He didn’t even utter a sound. Our little guy is brave !”

You kiss your son on his forehead, and he giggles and coos even more. There’s a short silence, before Bruce says :

“I’m sorry...”

And then he takes you in his arms, sandwiching little Thomas who’s protesting a bit. Damn, his parents could be so clingy !

“It’s ok my Broosh, I already told you. It’s ok.”

You sort of knew since you stepped into the doctor’s room that you’d end up being the one having to hold your boy anyway.

You knew oh too well how squeamish he was whenever HE had to get a shot done (and oh who would’ve thought the big bad bat hated getting shots so much uh ? You were pretty sure he would rather getting actually shot than take a tiny needle in his arm any day of the week...Alfred always had to fight with him to inject anesthesia when treating him for wounds). It was actually sort of a requirement, that you’d be next to him to give him your hand when he absolutely had to get a shot.

So understandably so, he always skipped on his children’s vaccins. He just couldn’t bear to see anyone he cared for to get that very things he hated so much, it just made him feel ill.

And you’ve always been fine with this. Since that very first day when you took Dick there...But Bruce always felt bad.

Because whenever you’d get out of the doctor’s office, you’d have fresh tears in your eyes, because you were just too pure for this world (is what Damian would say).

Dick always took advantage of this. He was never really scared of shots, and thought they didn’t really hurt...But oh, oh he would always cry a river of crocodile tears just so he’d get extra cuddles and ice cream.

And then, that cheeky little bugger passed that knowledge of “when we get shots, or we get sick, the parents literally let us do WHATEVER we want !” to his little siblings (you were actually pretty sure your kids would pass secret ways to manipulate you and Bruce along to their younger siblings and..you were oddly fine with it. You loved those kids too much to care, really).

This thought reminded you of that very first time Dick fell sick, shortly after you and Bruce officially adopted him.

And how much you guys freaked out.

It was both a pleasant, and terrible memory.

And oh. Oh you already dreaded the day Thomas would have his first real fever...You still remembered how it happened, with all your other children.

“What is it ?” Bruce asks, always knowing when something was on your mind. And so you say : “Nothing bad, this just reminds me of when Dick got sick for the first time while with us...”

A light of recognition ignited in Bruce’s eyes, he knew exactly what you were talking about.

Bruce only had fond memories of when he was sick and his mom and dad would take care of him.

He thought they were the best, wether they’d hold a “barf-bucket” for him, or stay up all night because he was too feverish...

What he never realized though, is that having a sick child was actually absolutely terrifying ! Bruce often felt sick himself, when the kids were ill.....ah, but nothing ever beats those first time each of them got sick.

DICK

Dick wasn't as young as Thomas, when he first came into your life. None of them were. But he was still a cute little bean, your baby.

Eight years old, and oh so sweet and nice and cute and you could just squish his little cheeks all day (albeit from the few outburst of anger at times, but hey, he was but a child, every kid throw tantrum from times to times).

He had been living with you and Bruce in the Manor for the past six months, when you had your first fright, and realized that being a parent meant being worried about your kid's well being for the rest of your days

Dick was definitely a tiny kid when he came in your life. He was rather short, only having a growth spurt when he was around 14/15. Barbara Gordon used to tease him to no end about this, up until he finally caught up with her and ended up being taller.

But yes, his small stature for his age, maybe made you baby him even more than the others, sometimes.

Ah. That first time little Dick Grayson was sick at Wayne Manor.

You. Freaked. The. Fuck. OUT.

You and Bruce, both.

Coincidentally, Dick became ill ON THE ONLY FEW DAYS OFF ALFRED WOULD TAKE A YEAR !!

Every year, for a theater festival, Alfred would take off to his homeland, to England, in London to be exact, for but a few days.

The three of you were in the batcave. Bruce was getting ready to go out, while you were on the bat computer and Dick was training on the side, doing some acrobatics on the trampoline Bruce installed.

And then he came to you, pulling on your sleeve, and he was so pale...

“I don’t feel too well.”

He said, right before throwing up for a few way too long seconds, as tears welled up in his eyes...it was never nice to throw up, and once again, no matter how mature he acted, you were reminded that Dick was but an eight year old child.

But he wasn’t only crying because throwing up fucking sucked. He was also crying because he thought you were going to be mad at him.

You reassured him, as you cleaned his little face up, and Bruce (who looked quite green himself...later on, you’d discover than when his kids or you were sick, he felt sick too...quite a strong reaction, really) carried him upstairs.

You were frantically googling how to take care of a sick child, as Bruce stayed with Dick, holding a bark bucket to his face, and drawing soothing circles on his back with his hand.

The panic dumbed the both of you down. It seemed like you couldn’t think, as you tried to make Dick as comfortable as he could.

You could feel your anxiety blowing through the roof, and knew that Bruce was close to have a panic attack himself (he was prone to them, although you and Alfred were the only one who knew).

You didn’t know what was worst, the fact he was sick and had no idea what you were supposed to do, or how much Dick was sobbing and apologizing.

“Should we call Dr. Thompkins ?”

“I don’t know her number, Alfred is the one that calls usually...”

“Should we take him there then ?”

“I don’t know, Alfred is-”

This went on for a little bit, as Dick was throwing up and crying. Saying “sorry !” every two seconds. But...Instinctively, Bruce was trying to soothe him with those warm pats on his back. And you were caressing his hair, empathetic. And...

You decided to not go to the doctor today, Dick was sick, but not sick enough to take him to an emergency. And in Gotham ? Leslie was needed for a lot, especially in evenings like this.

“Alfred um, gives me flat soda when I have a stomach ache ?”

“On it !”

You say, bolting on your feet and running to the kitchen, taking a cola and opening it up. Meanwhile, Dick’s fit calmed down, and he seemed to instantly feel better as he probably threw everything he needed to up...

He seemed content, cuddling against Bruce as the man was softly patting his back in small circles, and using his other hand to hold his head delicately.

You and Bruce were definitely not experienced parents yet, and it showed.

It showed by those first few minutes of utter panic, as your child got suddenly sick. And it showed as how you instantly just thought of calling Alfred...

That day, you both realized though, that you couldn’t always rely on the butler when it came to raising your son. For situations exactly like that one.

Both you and Bruce were still young, and scared to make mistakes but..You had to try. And you had to keep a cool head. Your motherly instinct kicked in.

It was so odd, seeing the big bad bat, wearing his costume without the cowl on (he didn’t have time to take it off as he rushed upstairs with the boy in his arms), looking so worried...

Bruce was so pale, and you could see that in a way, he felt his son’s pain too...Which just made your head click, and take action.

“Ok, ok we can do this. Keep the barf bucket close, let’s wait for the soda to get flat, and um...let’s try to distract him. A movie, perhaps ?”

Dick nodded, and although he wasn’t throwing up anymore, he seemed too weak to stand up (or maybe he was faking, could be, honestly, with that one...doesn’t matter) so Bruce carried him again.

And it was a sight. Bruce was a tall man. And Dick was a very small kid.

It was cute. and in that moment...In that moment it felt like you both suddenly realized what it meant, to be a parent.

Bruce, holding his son in his arms, feeling the little one’s heartbeat and slowed breath as he was kinda nodding off...was this how his own father felt, when holding him ? It was nice. It was a surge of pure love, and knowing that he would die for that kid if he had to. Hell, he would burn the whole world, for that kid.

It was so odd. The situation wasn’t that crazy, Dick probably just ate something bad, and with the trampoline and all the jumping around...he got sick.

As a child, you had those rapid sick moments of having a bad stomach ache, which would turn into throwing up, to then feel better. Those sudden moments when your own parents would take care of you...

Ah. You hadn’t realized how much worry being a parent would bring. Bruce didn’t either. You guys adopting Dick felt like an obvious thing to do. Felt like it was meant to be...

But it wasn’t just yet, that you felt like a mom. Or a dad.

It took some time to build. Just like it took time for Dick to call you “mom” and “dad”. And in that moment, as your kid (yes, your kid) was sick, that was it...

Finally. Yes. That was it.

You were a mom.

Bruce was a dad.

Dick was your son.

Of course you panicked as he suddenly got sick. But now, it was in your hand to properly take care of him. And thus started the first ritual you’d ever make with one of your children.

Dick, when sick, liked chicken noodle soups. Made by you. He liked cuddles, up until he turned 12 or 13, then he acted as if he was too grown up for them. This eventually stopped when he turned 19, not long after Jason’s death...He regressed back to a little boy in some ways, and needed you. And Bruce.

You’d often drive to Bludhaven just to give him chicken noodle soup and sprite, when he got sick. Even as he grew older and older...He loved it. No one could ever beat his mom babying him, when he felt under the weather.

JASON

"Hey buddy, are you ok ?”

“Yes, yes I’m ok mom.”

He smiles at you sweetly, his eyes half-closed, and clearly still relishing in the fact that he can finally call someone “mom”. But this happiness he felt whenever he realized he was finally safe, and had a home, was oddly dimmed, this morning.

“Are you su-OH MY GOD !”

Your hand is burning, as you lay it on his forehead.

He’s burning up !

“Hey wow hey, kiddo, come here, you’re not feeling well are you ?”

But Jason shakes his head, and says :

“No I’m good. Just tired, but I’ll wake up soon.”

He smiled again, but it felt all wrong.

Of course, you didn’t take his words for it, even if you knew Jason wasn’t a liar. But the fact spoke for themselves, your kid was NOT alright. No matter what he was saying.

Turned out, you were definitely right. He really wasn’t alright.

In fact, Jason had...pneumonia. A bad case of it. That he probably caught when he was playing earlier that day, in the snow, with Bruce, staying out up until his lips were blue and he was soaking wet !! Bruce could just never resist him, and didn’t have the heart to say “no” when the kid kept asking on playing more...

He dearly regretted it. But you reassured him, this wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t.

You rushed to the hospital, Bruce holding a tiny little Jason wrapped tight in a few warm blankets. And the doctor confirmed you made the right call, taking him to the ER.

It wasn’t like with Dick, where it was obvious the boy had a mild sickness. No. Jason really looked bad, and ready to drop.

You and Bruce let once again your parental instincts kick in and...It was the right call.

When Jason woke up, he let out a string of apologies and you realized...You realized the kid was terrified you wouldn’t want him anymore if he bothered you too much. Was scared to death that you’d want to take him back where you found him, that you’d give up on him.

His real life father bolted at the first signs of troubles. His mother was a drug addict for whom he was never good enough to try and get cleaned up.

He was abandoned, over and over again along his short life and...he was absolutely terrified that if he was too much of a nuisance to you two, you and Bruce would leave him as well. That you wouldn’t bother.

And it broke your hearts.

Softly, when Jason finally got better, after a few days of utter nightmare for you and Bruce, you took him home. He still needed some rest, as he was a little sick, so you tucked him comfortably in his bed and finally, you told him :

“From now on, you promise me to tell us when you don’t feel ok ? Wether you think it’ll bother us or not. You will never bother us, little buddy, ok ?”

“Ok”, Jason said, unsure.

“What do I have to say or do, to convince you you’ll never be a nuisance to us ?”

The question took Jason by surprise, and he wasn’t quite sure of what to say. In his feverish state anyway, he had a hard time thinking. He heard himself say :

“Stay with me ?”

“Of course. Always little one, always.”

And as he softly drifted to sleep, feeling the cold and soothing towel you would wet over and over again to put on his forehead, he heard you hum a song from your childhood, that would become a song always sure to put him to sleep.

He was out, when Bruce said : “I’ll stay home tonight.” A shame, really. Because maybe, maybe if he heard that the Batman was going to skip patrol just to keep an eye on him...Then he’d know he would never bother him. Ever.

That he would forever hold a dear, prime place in his heart.

Jason woke up the next morning, and found you and Bruce asleep on the floor, right next to his bed. You were still holding a towel that had long since dried up, and one of Bruce’s hand was clutched tightly on your shirt.

The basin full of cold water laying on his bed side table was almost empty. Jason smiled.

He felt better after a few hours of good sleep, and slowly got out of the blankets, pulling them with him, to then lay down next to you two, throwing the thick quilt over all of you.

Later that day, Alfred found the three of you all cuddled up. He snatched a picture. Picture that was framed, amongst some of your favorite of your children, in your office. And in Bruce’s.

The way you sung him to sleep when he was sick...When he died, it was the last thing he thought about. When he saw the bomb would explose before Bruce could save him.

He thought of how soothing it was, to be taken care of by you. And your humming voice rung in his ears, as he realized he was going to die. Right there.

Oh. Oh he wished he could be a little sick eight years old again, forget all his worries, and just fall asleep with the sound of your voice in his ears, while his dad would hold the both of you in his arms...

TIM

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, go back to bed this instant !”

Tim was the most difficult one, when he had a fever. He was a bit of a workaholic (like father like son ?), and always wanted to help. He hated being too sick because then he felt useless.

Your boy just wanted so much to be there for everyone, that he often forgot himself in the process and...yes.

His first real fever/sickness was punctuated by you constantly trying to get him back into bed.

You almost never even knew Tim was sick !

The boy was so used to taking care of himself, that he tried to handle everything on his own. He even took an appointment to the doctor himself ! But then, before having the chance to go there, he passed out in school, which resulted in a call from his principal that ended in Bruce almost having a heart attack.

You understood him of course. It wasn’t really a nice feeling to be called out during a business meeting to have someone tell you your son passed out in school !

It was just a little flu, but the fever and lack of sleep got the best of him.

Bruce didn’t even tell anyone where he was going, as he rushed to the school. You met him there, as he was walking out of the building, with a little sleepy Tim in his arms.

“I can walk, I swear I can walk.”

The boy was saying, yet his head was on his dad’s shoulder, and the up and down bobble of Bruce’s walk was clearly putting him to sleep.

Your husband settled your son in the car, and drove home.

“He was trying to convince me he could finish his school day, and that he had a group work today and didn’t want to let his friends down...”

“Sounds like Tim alright...”

You said, looking back at his sleeping form in the back seat.

Bruce nods, but you could see something was on his mind. You always knew, when something was on his mind. Brushing a few fingers on his cheeks, you ask :

“What is it, my Bruce ?”

His eyes are on the road, of course. But he flicks them quickly to you, and he knows. He knows he can’t lie to you, or get away with telling you half-truth.

You’ll know, if he’s not really telling you what has been worrying him. He takes a deep breath and, with a small voice says :

“Is this...my fault ?”

At first, you don’t understand, and you say :

“I’m pretty sure it’s because that boy never wears a damn sweater, and we’re in Gotham in the middle of Winter haha.”

But then...Then you realize what he means.

He’s talking about the fact that Tim always seem to overcompensate for something. Always seem to want to be there for everyone, forgetting sometimes he’s just a ten years old boy.

Tim was the only one out of his siblings that became Robin for no personal reason, but just because he loved Batman and wanted to help him. Just because he wanted to help people.

He didn’t have a tragic backstory (although he unfortunately got one later on...), he didn’t have a reason to become Robin, other than his good nature and really wanting to help...

And Bruce let him. Allowed him to do this. Even after what happened to Jason, he let Tim sneak in your life and become Robin.

You’d argue that Tim didn’t leave you guys much of a choice, and sort of had a “well I’m gonna help you no matter what, deal with it” sort of attitude. But you understood your husband’s worries.

He was afraid that he was the one that made him that way. That it was because of him, that Tim worked his health off.

“Oh, Bruce, my Heart...No. No it’s not your fault. It’s just how this amazing little boy is wired. I actually think that thanks to you, he’s more focused and taken care of. The gods can only imagine what Tim Drake would’ve done if he hadn’t been trained by Batman himself...If you said “no” to him pestering you about becoming your Robin, he would’ve taken it upon himself to go out there anyway. And then...I can only imagine what would’ve happened. So no. No it’s not your fault. It’s just...how he is. He reminds me of you a lot, actually. And I’m so, so glad he managed to convince you...Couldn’t imagine my life without that little one in it. Even if he does give me grief often, overworking like that. But it’s not your fault. It’s not. On the contrary.”

It took you a while, to convince Bruce he didn’t create Tim the way he sort-of created Dick and Jason. But you managed to, as you always did. You could be very convincing. Plus, the boy helped. It was clear his dedication came from himself mainly, that he was just born this way.

Too clever and smart for his own good, destined to be a Robin...and maybe a Batman, one day ?

Yes. Tim was the only one that wasn’t in it for himself. For personal reasons. He just wanted to help...

But after that first time he got sick, he understood that sometimes, it was ok to rely on you or his die. That in fact, he would gladly do so !

That day, Bruce carried him to his bed, even as the boy protested he was alright. Finally, you’ve had enough and ended up sort of lecturing him...gently.

“You need to rest, sometimes, ok ? If it’s too much, if you’re too tired, physically AND mentally, you need to take a few steps back...and let others take care of things, and of you. Ok ?”

“But-”

“No buts Timmy. It’s important. If something bad happens to you because you’ve been ignoring your own body, your own self...What will happen to those you want to help ? In order to continue what you’re doing, you need to take some pauses. Like right now. You are sick. You passed out in school. So...It’s gatorade and crackers time.”

Gatorade and crackers.

Tim’s favorite drinks and food.

Gatorade and crackers.

Two things that were rarely found in Wayne Manor. You always tried to give healthy balanced meals to your kids. Especially to Tim, who had the opposite of a balanced diet when he came into your lives (the fact he often had to take care of himself as his parents were too busy meant he often chose his own food...and of course he’d rather have ice cream than broccolis).

But the fact that you were now giving him Gatorade and crackers meant...Meant that Dick was right. When they were sick, you would do anything to make them comfortable.

Coincidentally though, Gatorade and saltines helped out, when one was sick.

On that first time he became sick after starting to live with you, Tim found that it was ok, to relax sometimes. That he didn’t have to waste his life away 24/7 for others, and that he could enjoy some down time.

It only happened when he was sick, to your great dismal. You constantly tried to convince him to take a break (just like you did with Bruce...but although it worked with your husband, especially as he got older, Tim was just very stubborn, and wanted to help too damn much). You even had to trick him into it often.

So although you hated seeing your kids in any kind of pain, you were almost glad when Tim got sick. Because it meant he would really take care of himself. Or rather, letting you take care of him.

That first time he got sick, he ended up leaving his bed...only to go cuddle up in yours and Bruce’s, and enjoy some down time. And learn that, it was ok, to take care of himself.

Hell. You’d hammer this fact in his head if you had to.

Gatorade and crackers, while watching movies in yours and Bruce’s big bed, was why Tim thought that in the end, being sick wasn’t too bad.

Extra points if you two were in the bed with him, snuggled up all nice, safe and warm.

CASSANDRA

Cassandra didn’t like TV, when she was sick. Instead, she liked you reading her stories better. And you’d read to her all day, if need be. Switching from time to time with your husband.

She had trouble sleeping, even when sick and weak. Listening to your voices telling her all those wonderful stories was soothing beyond measure.

The first time she fell sick while at Wayne Manor though, her first reflex was to go hide. Because when she used to be sick with the man who called himself her “father”, with David Cain (that scum), he used to get so mad at her.

As if it was her fault, she became sick.

So she’d run away. Curl into a ball. Wait for it to pass. And then face him, healthy again. It was easier to confront him when she was ok...So she’d rather run away and face the consequences, rather than stay around him while sick.

And so, her first instinct was to go hide.

She went to the attic, and did what she used to do.

Curled up in a ball, in front of the round window. And wait. Alone.

It’s Bruce, who found her. He was casually checking the GPS he put on his children. They still thought they got rid of it, the sweet kids...but as if he’d only implant one. He knew it wasn’t really ethical, but after what happened to Jason, he wasn’t willing to take any chances.

During the day, he would check a few times, and usually during boring office meeting, to see where they were. That day, he saw Cass in the Manor’s attic, and didn’t think much of it. Cass was a curious one, who took it upon herself to explore everything in the house.

But when he came home, and she was still there, his guts told him something was wrong...He rushed to the attic, and found her.

And his heart stopped, when he saw her laid on the floor, curled up into a ball, and softly moaning because she had a bad fever.

She wasn’t asleep, even in this state she fought sleep, afraid to have nightmares (and while having a fever, she couldn’t just wake up to escape them...).

Bruce carried her out of the attic, holding her tight in his arms, his heart bleeding as he realized why she isolated herself while she needed help.

People often misjudged Bruce on that matter. Saw him as a cold harsh man. But oh; oh if it was touching his children or you...He would feel so much. Too much, even. He just loved you all to death.

When he brought her downstairs, and you saw her, you immediately entered “mom mode” and fussed over her, getting everything you needed to make her comfortable...but as it turned out, all she wanted was to feel yours and Bruce’s presence.

To hear your voice, and feel you were there.

And so without thinking, you picked up a book and started to read it to her. And you could feel her relax, let her guard down. A rare occasion she would truly let herself be chill.

The first time Cass got sick while living under your roof, her first instinct was to hide and lick her wounds all by herself. It was to lie on the floor and hope it would pass fast. It was-

The second time she felt under the weather, she immediately went to you. It was early in the morning. And it’s only thanks to Bruce’s amazing reflexes that Cass didn’t throw up all over you two, as he pulled you away from her just in time...To then take care of changing the sheets, while you held your daughter’s hair as she threw up in the master’s bathroom’s toilet.

And then Bruce went downstairs to take a “barf-bowl”, the one actually, that her mom used to take for him...ah. He always used that one for all the kids. Call it nostalgia.

The second time Cass got sick while under your care, she didn’t hide. She wasn’t dreading it, even as she got even sicker than the first time. No.

No because now, she knew she’d always find you so you could take care of her. Ah, and Dick, Jason and Tim gave her many tricks to fake being sick and have you all for herself...

DUKE

Duke was older than any of your kids were when he started to live at the Manor. He was already in his teens. He wasn't a tiny bean like the rest of them, when he came in your family...

And yet. Yet the first time he fell sick, you babied the hell out of him.

So what if he was sixteen ? Doesn’t mean he couldn’t have all the care a child should have when he wasn’t feeling well.

And so you were ready to take care of him, when Alfred came to you this morning to tell you “Master Duke” wasn’t feeling well.

However, when you got to his room and indeed saw he was feverish, he refused to talk to you and just wanted to be alone.

And then it hits you.

Duke was sixteen.

He wasn’t a lost little eight years old boy who had just lost his parents, or never even had parents. He wasn’t a child in dear need of love and cuddles.

He was sixteen.

And he wanted HIS mom.

What happened to his parents was too fresh.

And they weren’t dead...In a way, seeing them lose their mind with no chance of ever getting better was worst.

Duke was sixteen.

And there, sick, all he wanted was to have his mom’s care again.

Yes. Duke’s case was different than all your other children. Because his parents were still there. Because he was older. Because everything was so fresh, at the moment.

In time, in the coming years, he would come to feel just like his siblings did. But right there, just mere few weeks after he moved to the manor, and mere few days after Bruce helped him find his parents...

Duke was homesick.

He missed his dad. But he missed his mom even more. Probably for the same reason that your kids loved to have you around so much, when they were sick...

There was no doubt in your mind that Duke’s mom was amazing at taking care of him when he felt ill. She probably had her own tricks, to make him feel better. Tricks that you did not know...And so you asked.

You simply asked.

Because you wanted to make him feel better. You wanted to be there for him, even if right now, he didn’t want you around.

If he truly wanted to be left alone, you’d leave some medicine and leave him be. But your guts were telling you he was just sad, and the sad was translated into him pretending he wanted to be alone.

Your guts were right.

Duke wanted his mom. Yes. But he also didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, right now...He just didn’t want to hurt your feelings. He knew how motherly you could be. He didn’t want to project his mother on you. He-

“What do you need ?”

You asked, and the answer came to his mind instantly. He spoke before even realizing he was doing it :

“My mom used to make a perfect drink of warm water, honey, ginger and lemon.”

And as you tried to recreate his mom’s drink, never quite getting the measurements right (you could see on his face it wasn’t like his mother’s), Duke slowly felt better.

Because...Because yes. He missed his mom. And the way she took care of him. Especially on sick days. But...It wasn't everywhere that one could find someone who cared so much, that they were willing to spend their entire day trying to get a drink right, right ?

And when Bruce came home, and asked him if he was “alright champ ?”, Duke realized one thing...

Yes. He wanted his parents. Yes, he missed them like hell. Yes, his sick days would never be the same...

But he wasn’t alone. As Bruce joined in trying to make the perfect drink of “warm water, honey, ginger and lemon”, Duke came to the realization that his situation wasn’t as desperate as he thought, this morning, when he woke up feeling under the weather, and without his mom to take care of him.

Because you were still there. And were planning on staying there for a very long time. Of course, you could never replace his mom. Just like you never replaced Dick’s, or Damian’s...You just, became another mom to them.

And Duke...That first day of being sick in Wayne Manor ? He felt like he was finally willing to let you become his second mom. To let Bruce become a father figure. To have this found family, in this tough times...

Sick days were never the same than when he was a little kid and still had his parents around.

Duke was sixteen. Growing up wasn’t easy, especially after what he went through. And sick days would never be the same...But it didn’t mean they wouldn’t be nice, as he slowly let you and Bruce, and his newfound siblings, take care of him.

Yes. To have this found family in this tough times was quite a joy.

DAMIAN

To the surprise of many, Damian actually didn’t resist too much being taken care of when he first got sick under your roof.

Damian actually loved being sick, because it meant snuggles time with you, safe and warm under a blanket on the couch, watching his favorite movies. It meant your soothing fingers running in his hair, making him feel peaceful and relaxed.

It also meant that he’d have you all for himself.

With five siblings (with a sixth one on the way), it wasn’t always the easiest thing ever, to get his mom only for himself. Yes. He loved to be sick, and babied by you.

The first time he got a bad fever, a few months after he arrived at the Manor, he dreaded falling ill because...

Well. Because he was raised in the League of Assassins. And being sick, no matter how much, was not considered reason enough to not train. To not do what his grandfather told him to do.

He used to work through the sickness. Even if he felt like passing out (and he did, a few times, which earned him hours from his sleeping time taken away...).

So Damian hated being sick.

Until. Until he became ill for the first time when living with you.

By that time, you and Bruce had learned how to manage a sick child. And although Bruce still felt physically ill too whenever his children were, he managed nowadays to be somewhat ok and take care of them without wincing.

It happened not long after Damian started to call you “mom”. He fell asleep while you guys were watching a movie and...it’s what instantly told you something was wrong.

No matter how bad a movie would be, Damian would NEVER fall asleep in the middle of it.

Ah, and sure enough, as you checked his temperature you realized he had a bad fever. And so you carried him to his room, tucking him into bed.

He woke up as you were doing that, and looked at you, utterly surprised. What was going on ?

“Get some rest buddy, you’ll feel better soon.”

You said, smiling. And at first, Damian didn’t understand. He had been so conditioned in ignoring his own well being, that he didn't realize something was wrong with him. But then, you laid a hand on his forehead, and said :

“Ah it doesn’t seem like it’s such a big sickness, I’ll go get you some medicinal tea and...What do you want to eat ? If you’re hungry ? Maybe you’re not, sometimes when I’m sick I just don’t wanna eat anything.”

Sick ? Was he...Sick ? Yes. He was. But it was so mild, that he didn’t even think he needed to rest. Or...Didn’t he ? He was just so used to still work even when sick.

“What-What about school ?”

He asked, and he was surprised his voice sounded so weak and tired. Was he always feeling like that when sick ? Yes. But...Something was different.

And then it hit him.

“I think it’s ok if you skip a few days’ buddy.”

The difference was that, when he was sick while amongst the League of Assassins, he was always terrified that his grandfather got tired of him and send him hitmen (it happened a lot before, while he was sleeping for example, and it always happened to test him, test if he was ready, and willing to kill and ask questions after). That he didn’t find him useful enough.

While here, with you, he felt safe. He felt loved. He felt warm.

And so his body wasn’t in a “fight or flight” state. He was just...sick. As any normal kid would be.

When with the Al’Ghul, he somehow managed to convince himself to keep going, to work through the pain. And oh, it’s wonders, what the brain can do when you really want to.

But here. Here he didn’t have to act tough. To keep walking or he’d end up dead. Here. Here he was safe. And loved.

So he felt the sickness, the fever. He felt it’s true effect.

“What do sick people eat ?”

He asked, and at first you didn’t think much of it. You started to tell him Dick loved chicken noodle soup while Tim preferred saltines. Cass would never eat much, neither would Jason, but they’d always say yes to some flat sodas.

He seemed unsure of what he wanted, so you asked him a simple question :

“What do you usually eat, when you’re sick ?”

It was such an innocent question. But it made him almost cry.

Usually ?

Usually...

“Well...”

He hesitates, and you sense there’s more to things than you originally thought. Finally, after looking at your encouraging smile, he says :

“When I was sick before, I still had to train. And then they’d tell me I’m weak.”

In one sentence, you understand everything. And you could punch yourself for ever thinking that he got taken care of when sick. And then the next second, you hold him tight in your arms, and once again, Damian is surprised.

But pleased. He had been touched starve most of his life, this was nice.

“My poor baby...”

He didn’t even complain you called him a baby, and let you hug him. And then...Then you spend time with him, trying to find the perfect ritual to make him feel better while he was sick.

You had such rituals with everyone. Formed on the day they first got sick. Damian needed his own thing too...

Thus was created the “couch nest”.

It involved covering the living room’s couch with at LEAST one quilt, then Damian would bring the pillows (and maybe some stuffs animals, or even real ones...Titus often sneaked in) from his bed, and you would tuck him in with one or two more quilts.

He would then spend the rest of the time watching TV and movies with you. Or with his siblings. Or his dad.

And it was so comforting, to be wrapped up like that. Almost like laying in a hug. It made him feel like he was perpetually held by you.

Damian used to hate being sick. Because he hated being weak.

But this changed. Just like he changed. Thanks to his family. Thanks to you.

Now, just like Tim, he almost loved, being sick...

************

“This sort of reminds me of that time Dick got his first fever...”

You were thinking about all those terrible, yet sweet days, of your children being sick, as you walked up the stairs to your house, a hand tightly weaved around your husband’s.

Bruce was holding a sleeping Thomas in one of his arm (the boy was so small he could even fit in one of his hand, really), and felt relaxed. Here. With his son, and his wife, the love of his life. And with the knowledge than when you’d push the door to your house open you’d-

“Father ! Mom ! How is he !?”

Both you and Bruce quickly put a finger on your lips, and Damian throws his hands on his mouth, regretting his scream. But he was just so worried.

He couldn’t come with you to the doctor’s office as he had school (plus you were pretty sure he would’ve been 100 times worst than Bruce, trying to stop Leslie by any means necessary), and had been thinking about his little brother’s first shot all day.

Damian, just like his dad, wasn’t very fond of shots. He hated that his brother (wether the youngest one, or one of the older one, really) had to go through this.

It was always silly to you, how both Bruce and Damian, who’ve been through much worst than small little shots, hated those so much...Silly, and very cute.

Damian was looking critically at his brother, checking him silently for any signs of distress, for any “mistakes” Doctor Thompkins would’ve done, and seemed satisfied that the boy was fast asleep in his dad’s arm.

And Bruce...Bruce was smiling.

He felt so relaxed. And happy.

When you pushed that door, it opened on Damian rushing to the two of you, worried about his little brother. But it also opened on Alfred, who baked some comforting food, and brewed some tea for you, knowing how hard on you this sort of things could be (and yet how you insisted to take your kids to the doctor yourself, and not let Alfred do it, because you wanted to be there for them).

It opened on Cass smiling, and ruffling Damian’s hair as to reassure him.

It opened on Tim, who took a small break from his college study to come down and spend some times with his siblings, ready to relax in front of a movie (it was family movie night !).

It opened on Duke, who’s hands were full of DVDs, and who was excited to try to convince y’all to watch “Ninja and Pirates 6″, or something of the like.

It opened on Jason, who was smiling in such a way that no one would ever know all the things he went through. And it made Bruce feel all nice and warm inside...even as the little shit mimicked him having to take a shot. Squirming and looking as if he was about to faint. And ah, he hated to admit it, but his boy was impersonating him really well.

And it opened on Dick. His first kid. The one that, one day when getting sick, was who made Bruce realize what it truly meant to be a dad. The one who knew the best how much he hated seeing any of his children sick, or getting shots.

On Dick, who was laughing really hard at Jason’s impersonation, and giving him feedbacks about what to improve to make it even better.

The door opened on his family.

And as the ruckus surrounding him woke Thomas, as Damian yelled at Jason and Dick for being so loud, and as Bruce’s eyes fell on you, while you looked at your little tribe with love in your eyes...

Bruce felt relaxed. And so, so, oh so happy.

________________________________________________

This is yet another one of those stories I’ve been posting a lot lately, that do not take me very long to write and in which I don’t put that much effort, but that I really enjoy writing nonetheless ^^. And I hope you enjoyed reading it :), I’m nervous actually this isn’t up to your standards hahaha...Yes, hope you still liked it. Don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback etc etc ^^. Thanks in advance !

See you soon with something much longer and on which I spend a lot of time working ;).

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