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yellowmagicalgirl · 3 years

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No Reason for Love

Krel wakes up to find Douxie sleeping on top of him.

So, what was that saying? Write while exhausted as the pills to make you tired kick in, edit the next morning? That was me with this fic because I wanted to get it done before RotT. This only has vague spoilers for the trailer.

CW: Body dysmorphia, self esteem issues, offscreen death, one gore reference, and one reference to sex (in terms of differences of Akiridion vs human reproduction; the gore reference is more graphic than the sex reference, and all characters depicted are adults)

AO3

FFN

Krel woke up to the feeling of pressure running along his body. He opened his eyes.

Oh. Right. Douxie and Krel had been watching a movie on Krel’s phone, and they had fallen asleep together. Or, more specifically, Douxie had fallen asleep on top of Krel, with his head directly on top of Krel’s core.

No.

On top of Krel’s cores.

That’s why they were here, after all. Krel was in (self-imposed, because his friends and family trusted him too much) exile in a quadrant of deep space, where he shouldn’t be able to hurt anyone. That had been the plan after Krel had stabbed himself with Gaylen’s core. Oh, he was strong enough to defeat the Arcane Order, but he was dangerous. He was too dangerous to be around people.

His boyfriend had decided that he was the exception to this rule, and Krel had been too selfish to say no, that they’d have to date at an even further distance than they had been for the six weeks they’d been dating.

And yes, Krel knew that Douxie had come with him for more reasons than Krel’s benefit, but Douxie could surely grieve Nari and Archie in a safer way than running off to live alone with the dangerous newly-made abomination of a god. Yes, Krel was an abomination, even if his friends, sister, and boyfriend all hated it when Krel used that word to describe himself. But what word was he supposed to use? He had two cores.

And with one of those cores, Krel could feel every minute exhale that came from Douxie’s sleeping form.

That was right. He was wearing one of Douxie’s shirts. His normal clothes didn’t quite fit him anymore given his wings and his second core, and so he’d taken to wearing human clothes that had been tailored to fit him and his arms and his wings.

Douxie had enchanted his own clothes to fit Krel, with holes opening up for Krel whenever he wore them. Douxie had offered to enchant Krel’s normal clothes, but as much as Krel liked how Akiridion magic and technology were compatible he…

Krel couldn’t remember what excuse he’d used, but he’d really wanted to just keep wearing Douxie’s shirt even though it exposed both of his cores with how low the neckline was. It shouldn’t have mattered, not with how Krel was rather indestructible now, but every time he caught sight of his double-cored reflection he was reminded of just how much he hated himself.

Douxie shifted in his sleep, inadvertently nuzzling his face against Krel’s cores.

Krel tried very hard not to cry. Douxie needed to sleep. He deserved to sleep. He was sleeping peacefully. Krel couldn’t wake him.

But Krel felt so loved and he didn’t deserve to be. This couldn’t last. One day, Douxie would realize that the man he’d fallen in love with had been sacrificed and an abomination was all that was left. He tried to keep still as tears began to slip out of his eyes, but he began to shake nonetheless.

Douxie lifted his head away from Krel’s cores. Krel found himself missing the point of contact, and feeling horrible for missing it, and began to cry harder. Douxie shifted his body, propping himself up with one arm and using the other hand to brush away some of the tears on Krel’s face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” His voice was so soft and gentle despite how exhausted he looked.

“I love you,” Krel said. Douxie’s eyes widenend.

Oh.

Right.

Krel hadn’t told Douxie that he loved him, not when Krel was still himself instead of an abomination. Douxie probably wouldn’t want Krel’s love now. And even if Douxie loved Krel before the seals had been broken, surely he wouldn’t now.

Krel looked away. “I understand if you don’t –“

Douxie turned Krel’s face back to him. “I love you too.”

Krel didn’t think he could have cried any harder. He proved himself wrong.

Douxie inhaled sharply but his voice was still so soft. “What did I do wrong? How can I fix this?”

Krel didn’t know how the situation could be fixed without killing his relatives. It would be proper to have one heir to House Ventis and one heir to House Akraohm sacrifice themselves to power the cannon, but Aja might want to sacrifice herself so she wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of killing her brother.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I still made you cry. Harder, anyways.”

“It’s… it doesn’t matter.”

Douxie frowned. “It does. You being happy matters to me. So, please tell me why you’re crying, and what I can do to make you feel better.”

Krel swallowed down tears. “Your head was on my core. Cores. Touching them is very intimate –“

Douxie’s face grew grave and flushed. “Krel, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that, er, I didn’t know where those parts of your body were and –“

Krel rolled his eyes. At least the shock made his tears slow their deluge. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Let’s just say that Akiridion and human reproduction are more similar than you’re thinking, at least in location.”

Douxie nodded. “Okay, so I didn’t cross that line, but I clearly crossed a line. Which one?”

“I don’t know if there’s a good comparison? It’d be like you holding my literal heart, I guess?” Douxie grimaced at the mental image. “But not exactly. It’s just, since you’re not immediate family or trying to save my life, you’d only be doing that if we were at a level of intimacy of being at the last stages of our engagement.”

Or maybe other Akiridions had that level of intimacy at sooner stages. Maybe it was an old-fashioned, stuffy royal way his parents had raised him and Aja. He knew at least one of his grandmothers believed that core-touching should have been reserved for marriage, but it was possible that she was simplifying it down for Aja and Krel.

“And I know our friends have made elopement jokes before, but…” Krel looked away, trying to will himself not to start crying harder again.

Even if Douxie loved Krel, surely Douxie wasn’t interested in marrying him.

“Would you want to?” Douxie asked. “This isn’t a proposal, but would you even be interested in marrying me?”

Gently, Krel pushed Douxie away so that Krel could sit up, half-facing his boyfriend. There was an urge to wrap his wings around Douxie, but no. That shouldn’t happen.

“Only if I was sure you understand the consequences.”

“Consequences? Like what? Having to get a second pair of arms grafted onto me?”

Krel tucked his wings closer to himself. Douxie sighed.

“I’m sorry, I’m tired and wasn’t thinking. But, what do you mean by consequences?”

“Why do you love me? And no, ‘you’re you’ isn’t an answer, because I’m not. Not anymore.”

“You are still you even with the wings and everything, but I’m too tired to have this argument again. If you won’t let me use that reason, then how about I just do?”

Unconditional love felt wrong. “That’s circular reasoning.”

“Well, do I need a reason to love you?”

Yes, because if Douxie knew his reason for loving Krel then he would be able to pinpoint when that reason wasn’t itself anymore.

No, because if Douxie knew the reason why he loved Krel, then Douxie would leave and Krel was too selfish to want to be exiled alone.

Krel started sobbing again.

Douxie drew Krel into his arms, gently stroking Krel’s back between his wings.

The next time Krel woke up, his head was directly on top of Douxie’s heart.

#krexie #krel tarron #hisirdoux casperan #tales of arcadia #3below #toawizards #rise of the titans #gaylen!krel #my writing

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minor-solemnity · 3 years

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Curiosity pt.6

“Are you implying that I’m not good enough to blackmail?” Which well, that maybe isn’t what you should be annoyed by.

A month passes. You don’t talk in class, just keep your head bowed low, eyes fixed firmly on the ground. You ignore Tom in the hallways and in the lessons you share. You suppose that you should probably revert to calling him Riddle, but referring to a man you’ve had sex with by their last name, even in the comfort of your own head, makes you feel dirty.

He tries to talk to you twice. He doesn’t try a third time.

You don’t tell Marie or Stephanie what’s transpired between you and Tom and eventually, they stop asking. You’re content to let them believe that whatever courtship or relationship they thought had been budding between the two of you had died. It’s easier to pretend that you’re just sad that you’ve missed your chance with Hogwarts’ most sought after bachelor. The truth is so much more complicated.

The last of the bitter Scottish winter gives way into Spring and with it comes blue skies, crisp winds, and luscious greenery. Stephanie’s attention is fixed firmly on the final quidditch matches of the school year and Marie begins her yearly fretting over exams. You’re left in blessed peace to ruminate on and stew in your own misery.

It’s far too early on a Saturday for you to be up, but the Great Hall is always empty until at least nine on the weekends and you’ve taken to avoiding large crowds lest you accidentally run into him. As expected, you’re alone save for the ghosts this morning. You’re stirring honey into your tea when a shadow falls over you. You don’t look up. The shadow coughs politely. You glower at your tea. The shadow sighs and there are footsteps and the sound of someone taking a seat opposite you. When you finally look up, Tom is watching you intently. Merlin, it’s so frustratingly easy to get distracted looking at him. The first thing you notice (and you hate that you do) is that he looks somewhat tense. His expression is a mask of polite indifference and his hands rest casually on the table in front of him but there is a tautness to his posture, as though he’s steeling himself for a fight.

You think that that should please you. At one point, it definitely would have done, but right now you’re still too raw from the events of a month ago to feel anything other than resigned fatigue at his appearance. “You’ve been ignoring me.” He says, and though his tone is placid you can detect a hint of something hard lacing his consonants.

“What good observational skills you have. Though that’s hardly a surprise, seeing as I’ve been on the receiving end of your interest for months at this point.” The anger at your own stupidity and his manipulation rears its head once more and you’re somewhat taken aback by how much venom has crept into your voice.

“Perhaps, if you’d let me explain-”

“No.” You cut him off, gathering your things and shoving them into your bag with more force than is strictly necessary. “No, I will not let you explain. I think you made yourself perfectly clear the last time. You have what you want, your curiosity is sated. You have your own blackmail material on me, should you ever feel the need to use it, and all it took was-” You can’t finish the sentence. All it took was a little flattery and his clever tongue touching and playing with you until you’d… Really, it had taken nothing at all. “I don’t know what else you could possibly need to explain to me. I understand what I am to you and what this entire thing was about. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you just leave me alone.” You don’t hang around to see understanding dawn on Tom’s face, nor do you hang around to see resolve settle firmly on his shoulders.

Fifteen minutes later you’re sat with your arms wrapped tightly around your knees underneath a yew tree by the lake, your bag thrown haphazardly a few feet away. You stare at the lake and determinedly blink back the tears that are threatening to spill down your cheeks. A horrible mix of embarrassment and anger is bubbling in your stomach and your hands shake as you reach down and tug blindly at strands of grass as if they are what your ire is directed at. Merlin, you’ve been stupid. Incredibly, horrendously stupid. You’d known that Riddle was bad news. You hadn’t trusted him from the moment he’d smiled down at you that evening in the dining hall. Almost every meeting between the both of you since had been a constant push and pull, neither of you willing to back down or give way… And now…

Now he has the information that he wanted and the game is up. You’ve lost. And all because somewhere along the line you had forgotten exactly why it was that he’d been interested in you in the first place. You’d let your imagination get the best of you and for a moment you’d let yourself believe that it wasn’t about Mr Larkins anymore. That he was there because of you. Just you and not the secrets that you had tried so hard to keep.

Merlin, what was he going to do with you now that he knew. Blackmailing a teacher (and you have to admit to yourself now that that was exactly what you had been doing) was a serious offence. Enough to get you expelled for sure. Muggles went to prison for blackmail, didn’t they? Would you be sent the Wizengamot? Or would Tom just hold it over your head for eternity? Surely not. He had no use for you now, after all; you can’t keep kidding yourself that he liked or wanted you. You can’t keep kidding yourself that that was part of why this was so painful.

Beyond the fear you feel for your future, rejection is a bitter pill lodged in the back of your throat.

“You might appreciate it if I left you alone, but I’d appreciate it if you stopped running away from me.” Tom’s voice is conversational, cheerful almost. You let out a strangled scream of annoyance. He hums a soft little laugh in response. He settles himself down beside you, long legs stretching out in from him, crossed over at the ankle. You notice he’s holding the folder. “You honestly think I’d blackmail you?” He asks, still in that conversational toned and you feel your hackles rise.

“Are you implying that I’m not good enough to blackmail?” Which well, that maybe isn’t what you should be annoyed by.

“You seem intent on misunderstanding everything I have to say, I see.” He says and, at last, something approaching annoyance enters his voice. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that he’s frowning slightly. As in the Great Hall, his posture suggests he’s at ease, he’s taken his tie off and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone. But something is lurking beneath his relaxed exterior that suggests he’s nervous. “I have no intention of blackmailing you. At first, perhaps, but not any longer. And…” You drop the pretence of not looking at him entirely and turn full to face him. He doesn’t look at you and you get the impression that whatever he’s trying to say does not come easily. “I apologise if that’s the impression I gave you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise at the apology, which whilst stilted, appears genuine. Then, almost immediately after narrow in suspicion and indignation. “What other impression could you possibly have given me? Apart from, maybe, toying with me for your own amusement.” You ask acidly.

His jaw clenches and you notice dimly that he’s making hardly any effort to hide his emotions. He’s almost an open book. Which is… strange. You’re reminded of all the times that Tom’s treatment of you has left you feeling confused. Confused because he doesn’t act the same way around you as he does with the rest of your peers. He’ll put on a facade of politeness, sometimes, but it usually unravels within minutes. You’ve watched him charm and flatter the worst of your professors, that small careful smile never faltering until they’re putty in his hands.

He’s tried to intimidate, taunt, and seduce you but he’s never tried to charm you. The realisation hits you harder than you’d like. But so what that Tom doesn’t seem to think you’re worth the effort? Does it matter that he drops his perfect little persona around you? Yes, the quiet, treacherously hopeful voice in your mind whispers, yes it matters. Of course, it matters.

“That we were having fun, perhaps?” He says at last and he looks pained just saying it. As though telling you that some part of him had enjoyed your company and had assumed that you enjoyed his is physically uncomfortable to admit. Maybe it is. “That I believed you and I had some level of understanding regarding our relationship?”

You ask incredulously, “Has this been your way of flirting with me, Tom?” At the sound of his name on your lips, he turns to face you and you can practically see him come undone. His throat constricts around a swallow and you can’t stop yourself from tracing the column of his neck to where his collarbones, surprisingly delicate and sharp protrude from the collar of his open shirt with your eyes. He follows your gaze intently. “You never tried to charm me.” You murmur, finally bring your gaze to meet his.

“I’ve only ever been honest with you,” He replies, his voice equally soft. An admission that his persona is mostly a lie, used to trick and manipulate everyone else. Maybe that should put you off, make you turn away from him for good. It doesn’t. “You can’t blame me for wanting to know you when the few things I did know were so interesting. You can’t blame me for liking you more when I found out the rest.” It’s strange, knowing that the parts of you that usually stop people from liking or trusting you are what draws him to you. Then again, maybe it isn’t strange at all. You’re remarkably similar in so many ways, after all. “I thought, perhaps, that you regretted it.” Regretted me, is what he means. Is what he won’t say. Is what you hear nonetheless.

You’ll need to talk more later; you need to know what he intends to do with the knowledge of your blackmailing schemes but later. Right now… You lick your lower lip and you don’t miss the way he tracks the movement. “I don’t. Regret it.” He nods once, a short decisive shake of his head. You’ve made up your mind. “You should kiss me now.” And he does. He shifts and suddenly you’re being dragged to his side, one large hand curving around your waist and another cupping your jaw, his fingers tangling in your hair.

You feel like maybe, you’ve just won the best kind of game there is.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagines #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #minific

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inkandpen22 · 3 years

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Otherworldly Kings and Queens (10/10) Peter version

Pairing: Prince Caspian x Female!Reader/ Peter Pevensie x Female!Reader Warnings: emotional ending but happy! Word Count: 2.8k Part Summary: As the Pevensies time in Narnia comes to an end, Y/N must decide. There isn’t just one question that needs to be answered... who will Y/N pick? Will Y/N really consider staying in Narnia? A/N: And with that one of my first series comes to an end... it’s both exciting yet sad at the same time as I’ve had so much fun writing it. Thank you to everyone who’s followed the series! I appreciate you so much! SOOOO emotional! I never thought of writing both versions of the ending BUT I’m so glad I did so thank you to whoever suggested it!!! I envisioned Y/N picking Caspian, but this ending is gold :)

Masterlist

The whole Talmarine kingdom, as well as Narnians, have gathered in the courtyard for the ceremony. Aslan has made the decision to allow some Talmarines to leave Narnia if they choose. Apparently, Talmarines are like the Pevensies and myself I suppose, they're from our world. They traveled to Narnia centuries ago by accident and made a home here. Caspian speaks to his people with such ease as he encourages them to consider the offer. He's a natural-born leader. He's meant to be Narnia's future king. As I come to this conclusion, I take Peter's hand beside me. He glances down at me, having not expected the action. Nonetheless, he gives my hand a comforting squeeze and offers me a gentle smile of reassurance.

"Are you alright?" He questions in a whisper with a tad of worry resting on his brows.

"I just... when we got here I would've done anything to go back home. Now that the war is over and Miraz is gone, I've come to realize I'm quite fond of Narnia," I explain my predicament.

Peter chuckles lightly, pleased with the news considering how much he adores this place. "I always hoped you would. Whenever I told you about Narnia, I wished I could've shown it to you. I'm glad you came with us this time. Now you understand," he reasons.

General Glozelle and Miraz's wife, Prunaprismia, volunteer first with her baby. In honor of their bravery, Aslan blesses them with a good future. The pair walk toward the tree that Aslan has made part in half. Everyone watches in awe the General and former Queen disappear in a blink. My lips part in astonishment. I don't think I'll ever get used to magic. Gasps fall across the crowd and people begin to question Aslan's intentions. They fear this is all a trick.

Peter slips his hand from mine and steps forward. "We'll go," he volunteers us.

"We Edmund frowns, sharing my expression.

"Wait, what?" I express rather rashly.

In my defense, it's justified. Peter never asked for my opinion. He's deciding for me. Aslan... Aslan made it out to seem as though I had a choice, as though we all would have at least some more time here. "Come on. Our time's up," Peter tells me solemnly, but an ounce of hope lingers in his tone. "After all... we're not really needed here anymore," he determines while approaching Caspian to offer him his sword.

"I will look after it until you return," Caspian assures Peter confidently.

"I'm afraid that's just it," Susan interjects beside me. "We're not coming back."

"We're not?" Lucy pouts with concern.

"You two are," Peter predicts, glancing between Aslan and his youngest sister. "At least, I think he means you two."

"But why?" Lucy struggles to comprehend the purpose behind this news, as do I. "Did they do something wrong?"

"Quite the opposite, Dear One," Aslan voices. "Your brother and sister have learned what they can from this world. Now it's time for them to live on their own." Aslan comforts each of us with his wisdom.

Though, frankly, I'm finding it hard to swallow this harsh pill. But all things have their time.

"It's all right, Lu," Peter tries to ease Lucy's mind as he takes her hand gently. "It's not how I thought it would be...but it's all right."

Peter directs his attention to me and holds out his free hand for me to take. "One day you'll see, too. Come on."

He offers me a weak smile, not one that shows genuine happiness, but contentment. I ease my hand out to glide it into his, but something stops me. A feeling in my chest telling me not to settle as Peter as with his decision. I shift my head toward Aslan to ask the lion directly. "And what about me?"

My patience is growing thin. All this back-and-forth yet I haven't heard a concrete answer about where I belong. Aslan is constantly confusing me with his tricky wording. One minute he makes me believe that finding him wasn't my purpose for coming here and the next he's telling Peter that his time here is over. I belong where Peter is, I always have. If his purpose is in our world... then so is mine. Then, does that mean I'm like Edmund and Lucy? Am I destined to return in the future? How far in the future? Narnian time is different from ours, who knows how many years will pass before we're here again. It could be another thousand years in Narnian time. "Your course is not as clear-cut as theirs," Aslan states with uncertainty. "You still have much to learn from here, as do Edmund and Lucy. Going back means one day, you will return, as will they."

"So I am to go back," I hope to clarify.

All I want is an answer, to know my path.

"Returning to your world will bring you back here someday, yes, that is a course you may take," Aslan nods calmly.

So, after all this time, after all the back-and-forth, Aslan is guiding me toward Peter. He made it sound as though I had to make this life-altering decision. The first few days we were here, I would've given anything to go back home. I never wanted to be in Narnia. Now that I have my chance to get out and everyone is rushing me out the door, I'm digging my heels into the dirt begging for a moment's pause. All this time Aslan has been pressing me to make a decision, why do I feel as though he's making it for me? It's suffocating.

I glance between Aslan and Peter nervously. Aslan wears his usual gentle and patient smile while Peter is confused with furrowed brows. His hand remains out to me, lingering for mine to join it. I whip my head around and my eyes land on Caspian. His features fall as he comes to terms with my departure. I approach the future King solemnly. All I can keep thinking is 'more time! More time! If only we had more time!' I can't visualize who the 'we' is exactly. When I say it, all I can think of is the riverbank in the forest. I see myself lying beside the river in the plush green, flower-covered, grass. The warmth of the golden sun scatters over my skin. I spent time with both Peter and Caspian there. What I would give to return to those moments. Whether I'm hoping it's with Peter or Caspian, I can't see. Each of them matters to me, on what level I can't decide.

"I'm glad I came," I tell Caspian whole-heartedly.

"I wish we had more time together," the prince sighs, taking my hands in his.

His hands are warm. Mine are always cold. I never noticed that before now. I'll miss that.

"I'm not entirely sure I belong here," I confess timidly, still unsure of my thoughts and Aslan's advice.

"Why not?" Caspian frowns as if my words are nonsense.

"I’m not of this world and if the Pevensies are 1,300 years older than you so am I," I shrug with a hint of a smile as I comprehend how old I am. I'm not a Narnian or a monarch of Narnia. Aslan said I was meant to come here with the Pevensies, but our time is up and I've yet to find this purpose he speaks so much about.

Caspian expresses a faint smile, amused by my humor, but too solemn to fully be happy. Both of us pull the other into an embrace. The words continue to repeat in my mind. 'More time! More time! If only we had more time!' I feel as though I'm standing on the edge of the cliff overlooking a deep trench and I'm stuck wondering whether I should jump. Caspian and I part from one another. It's painful. I feel safe with him, more secure and understood than I ever have before. I don't want to let go, but at the same time, I'm yearning to cling to Peter.

Peter meets me halfway and wraps an arm around my waist, leading me toward the tree trunk. The Pevenesies begin toward the tree as well, ready to go on.

"It’ll be okay," Peter whispers in my ear as he brings me into his side.

I feel safe here with him. Peter is home for me. For years, he's been my rock, my strength. Through the war, losing my dad, through all the bad, Peter has been my guiding light.

He continues to comfort me. "Everything will be as if we-"

"Peter, no wait... " I shake my head as my steps come to a halt.

It takes a second for Peter to react. He comes to a halt a few steps ahead of me. Turning over his shoulder, he gives me a confused look.

"I can’t go back," I voice, but my volume is weak. "At least not yet... not until I know that I've done what I must do."

"What do you mean?" He frowns.

"I... I think I’m still needed here..." I stammer with uncertainty. "At least... At least that’s what I think Aslan means. He speaks like a fortune teller and it’s confusing!"

Peter switches his now crossed expression from me to the lion. "Aslan, is that true?"

"Y/N’s future is not set in stone as your four’s is in history. She has known that she has to decide her course of action for some time. The clock is dwindling," Aslan explains steadily, looking to me to decide.

Lucy steps forward from behind Peter. "You mean you have to stay here?"

"It means I have a choice," I do my best to word it less harshly to the little one. "Staying here or coming again later. I’m assuming the next time will be with you and Edmund. Either way, I’m needed here. I just know it." I try to explain, but how do I explain a feeling?

"Neither choice is wrong," Aslan injects as he moves to stand beside Peter and me. "Going back to your world would mean you would return with Edmund and Lucy. After that, your life will be as you've always envisioned with who you envisioned. Staying here would be as you've envisioned as well," Aslan explains, giving me a knowing look. "You will prosper in both worlds, in whichever you decide."

Does Aslan know that I haven't been able to stop thinking about the riverbank? Is that what he's referring to? Does he mean that if I stay in Narnia I'll be with Caspian? If I return to England Peter and I will be together? Choosing a world also means choosing between Peter and Caspian.

"But why?" Lucy pouts.

"I don’t know," I struggle to say as my eyes begin to well up.

"I do," Peter voices.

"What?" I mutter.

"I didn’t understand it at first, but Aslan told me something earlier today. He said, ‘as much as we wish we could, sometimes we can’t choose who we love, the world chooses for us.’ You’re needed here. This is why you were brought here with us. When Caspian called for us with the horn, he unknowingly was calling to you as well."

I switch my gaze between Caspian and Peter frantically. Both of them meet my gaze with eagerness, wondering what I'll choose, as does everyone else.

"So I will return with Lucy and Edmund in the future if I go home?" I clarify with Aslan, hoping for a direct answer.

"Yes, if that's what you decide, Child," he nods.

I press my lips together as my throat becomes strained from holding back tears. "Peter I- "

"It’s okay," he assures me as his hand glides up to cup my cheek. "Everything is as it should be."

I can tell he's doing his best to stay strong for my sake. Tears flow from his eyes silently and the sight pierces my heart.

"If this is how it should be, why does it hurt so much?" I mutter, my tone shaky with emotion.

Peter shakes his head as his eyes become glossy. "It won’t forever. We’ll both grow and find that which we were destined to. I always thought we would find that together," he chuckles softly, it's bitter-sweet. "But this is right," he speaks with certainty.

"But I’ll never see you again," I comprehend the harsh reality of it all. "I... I don't want that! I can't imagine my life without you in it! You've always been there and I... haven't I lost enough people already? How many more goodbyes must I say?"

"We mustn’t think like that. One day we'll be together again!" Peter thinks optimistically.

This isn't fair. None of this is fair! In choosing Narnia, in choosing a different life for myself, I'm losing my best friend. I'm losing the one person who kept me going, who gave me a reason to survive.

"I love you," I cry.

Peter grins at my words, a faint and joyful chuckle escapes between his teeth. "And I’ve always loved you, perhaps I always will. We’ll never lose that, even across worlds."

I nod repeatedly, holding onto every syllable. I pray and hope, that he's right. Peter pulls me into his chest and I wrap my arms around him for dear life. I grip the fabric of his loose shirt in my fists. His hand cradles my head as he plants a kiss on my forehead.

Do the ones we love ever truly leave us? Is the memory of them strong enough to keep us going in their absence? I doubt a day will pass by where Peter doesn't cross my mind or any of the Pevensies for that matter.

Now that our time has officially run out, I say my goodbyes to each of the Pevensies. I'm not just saying goodbye to Peter's siblings, each of them has become family to me. Lucy and Susan cry with me as the three of us hug each other. Edmund does his best not to show emotion, but I can see behind his stone-hard expression that he's holding back. His tight embrace is enough evidence as well.

When the moment comes for the Pevensies to return to London, I hold onto Peter's hand as I approach the tree with them. His siblings walk a step ahead as Peter walks backward to face me. Until the last second, we hold on.

"Someday," I nod, as though I'm making a promise that one day we'll see each other again.

He nods, agreeing to the vow. "Someday."

Our hands begin to slip as Peter backs away toward the cliff between the tree halves and my breath hitches in my throat. I stare into his sea-glass eyes and the seconds travel rapidly by. In a blink, he's gone, disappeared from my world.

A gasp escapes my lips at the sight. My arm falls to my side as tears glide down my cheeks. My heart sinks as reality hits me that I'll never see Peter ever again as long as we're alive. An arm wraps around my waist, supporting me. Caspian appears in my peripheral vision as my eyes remain locked on the open space beneath the tree.

"It’ll be okay," he reassures me as he rubs his hand up and down my back.

I swallow hard, my face becomes blank other than the tears falling down my cheeks. A deep sense of emptiness consumes me inch by inch starting from my heart.

"As long as you've done what's right by your conscious and your heart, you could never be wrong, Dear One," Aslan advises smoothly.

I stare ahead at the tree, waiting for Peter to reappear though I know he'll never come. Have I done wrong? If this is what's meant to happen, why does it hurt so much? This is agony.

Caspian tries to usher me away, "come, Y/N, we can go back to-"

"No!" I blurt out suddenly, making him halt.

My eyes search the tree in a panic and then I turn to Caspian. "I'm sorry... I... I can't do this!"

The prince's features fall as he processes my words. "But..."

"I'm so sorry Caspian," I cry. "I love Narnia and I'm so glad that we've met but..." I glance over at the empty space where Peter last stood with a deep sigh. "I don't think I can be truly happy here if a piece of me is elsewhere."

Caspian swallows hard, clenching his jaw to withhold his emotions. "You love him," he determines.

Knowing that in choosing Peter I'm hurting Caspian is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Yet, it wasn't until Peter vanished from my sight did I come to realize that the answer to my million questions was right there in front of me this whole time. It's Peter, it's always been, Peter.

I lean up and plant a kiss on Caspian's lips, one last kiss. He deepens the kiss and it's a bitter-sweet farewell. When we part, he wraps his arms around me in an embrace. I wrap my arms around him tightly, holding onto the hope that Aslan is right and one day we may see each other again.

"One day," I mutter against his chest. "One day I hope we're reunited."

Caspian parts from me and expresses a weak smile as he brushes his hand against my cheek, wiping away the remaining tears. "I'll count the days until your return."

“I pray it’s soon,” I confess. “I fear I’ll miss you more than I can bare.”

In choosing Peter, I lose Caspian. In choosing Caspian, I lose Peter. Neither choice is painless.

I glance toward the lion, "so am I right about this?"

I can’t leave without being sure.

"You were never wrong," he smiles.

I switch my gaze to Trumpkin, the crowd of Narnians, and Telemarines. All of them await my next move. Swiftly, I plant a kiss on Caspian's cheek, preparing to rush after the Pevensies. I turn toward the tree with a smile, knowing in my heart this is right. I turn my back to the tree and begin to back away from Caspian as Peter did to me. I hold onto the Prince's hand until the last moment. Our fingertips barely touching.

"Goodbye for now," I phrase lightheartedly with a soft grin.

"Farewell-"

Caspian's words are cut short as my vision changes from the courtyard to a chaotic train station. I'm standing in the middle of the platform as people move about me. The peace of the courtyard is replaced with deafening noise. I blink rapidly, piecing together what's happened. I glance down at my clothes and I'm in my school uniform again. My hair wisps around as a train flies through the station. I'm back, I'm back in London! Peter. I need to find him!

Frantically, I shift between people, rushing through the station to find the Pevensies. They have no idea I'm here. It'll be like a needle in a haystack with everyone dressed in the same uniforms. Perhaps they're where we left for Narnia, by the bench! As the idea pops into my mind, I begin to run. I scan each head, each face, all looking for one. Then, in a flash, I spot the blonde speckled hair I've been longing to see. Peter paces in front of the bench, his eyes on the floor and his hand rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks are red and his eyes bloodshot. His sisters and brother are huddled together by the bench, likely discussing their departure and my decision to stay. Little do they know...

"Peter!" I shout impulsively.

Peter whips his head around, searching the crowd for me. His glossy eyes are wide with surprise and his lips are parted. The other Pevensie children appear just as shocked. Then, he finds me. Amongst the crowd and chaos, his sea-glass eyes that I've been longing to see again since the moment he left have found me.

"Y/N?" He mouths breathlessly.

Peter begins to shove through the crowd, leaving his stunned siblings behind. I glide between bodies, excusing myself along the way. The seconds feel like hours as the distance dwindles but feels miles long. All I keep thinking is 'get to him! Get to him!' Before, I envisioned the riverbank. I longed for it. I couldn't see who was with me there in my visions until now, Peter. We were at peace, happy even. I believed the whole reason behind my want for those moments was to stay in Narnia. Yet, I've come to realize that it doesn't matter where I am, as long as it's with Peter.

In an instant, Peter's arms wrap around me and he frantically cradles my head, pressing it to his chest for dear life. He parts from me, cupping my face with astonishment.

He shouts, "what are you-"

Ignoring his words, I press my lips to his. Since the moment he disappeared all I wanted was to be with him again. At first, he's taken aback by my action, but after a second he comes to kiss me back. He cups my cheek and deepens the kiss. It’s salty, a mixture our of tears coming together. The world around us goes silent and nothing else matters. Despite everything, the war, the pain, the loss, this is where I'm meant to be. We part only to catch our breath.

"You came back?" He pants, lingering inches from my face. Now, tears of joy fall from his eyes. "But you're needed in Narnia! Aslan even said-"

"Destiny is a funny thing I've come to realize," I chuckle lightly with joy. "Everyone always speaks of it as though it must be an action or place. What if it's a person?"

The edge of his lips curl upward with pleasure, yet his brows scrunch together in confusion. "What happened to someday? You had the chance to be Queen! Grow old in Narnia! Caspian..."

"I was standing there, milliseconds after you left and I realized that none of it made any sense!" I explain breathlessly. "My world wouldn't be my world without you in it. Life wouldn't be worth living."

He gleams, overjoyed at my words. "So it's me?!"

"Oh silly boy, it's always been you," I giggle lightheartedly.

Peter releases a breathless laugh, emotional yet over the moon. He nods and swiftly brings his lips back to mine, holding my face in his hands longingly. No matter the world or time, I will follow him anywhere.

It's him. It's always been, Peter. Now, we have forever.

_____________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @blackbirddaredevil23 @rangergranger11 @hyperactiveravenclaw @whiskeywinter89 @i-hav-no-life @damalseer

#narnia imagine #narnia #susan pevensie #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #peter #caspian x reader #prince caspian #prince capsian x reader #lucy pevensie

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somanyerikas · 3 years

Text

Nostalgia sells - or does it? About BBC’s rehiring of a previous showrunner for Doctor Who as a marketing strategy

All, right, this is the one where I deal with my issues about RTD’s rehiring from the standpoint of BBC’s business strategy . Brace for passive agression, swearwords, brief history of british television and numbers. So, so many numbers.

Allright, so I already wrote a post about my problem with RTD’s (re)hire from the creative standpoint (it’s here in case you’re interested), but hey, I can bitch about it all I want, but we all know what caused the BBC to make this decision, right? You’ve heard about it for sure. The Dropping Ratings. You’ve read about it on so many posts, lots of them probably oh-so-gladly conflating this fact with their own opinion about the deteriorating quality of the show. (Don’t worry, we’ll get to that.) So Obviously the execs at the Big BBC Quarters needed to do something about it, and what better way to go than rehire a guy who’s run at Doctor Who is a warm childhood memory for so many in it’s fanbase? After all, it’s what we’re seeing nowadays: from Star Wars return to wave of 80′s nostalgia to every old blockbuster star doing a comeback, there is but a single conclusion - nostalgia sells.

Or does it?

Part One: Moving with the change; or very much refusing to.

Let’s start this off with some facts about the ratings for Doctor Who. (Well, I warned you there’s gonna be numbers, didn’t I. Stick with me, I’m going somewhere with this I promise.) In it’s beginnings, in the sixties and seventies , the series flown high, averaging a viewership from 8 up to 10 million viewers per season. Collin Baker’s series 17 brought in a record of 11.21 milion viewer asses in front of a good ol’ TV screen, real champagne opener here. But, as it happens, things were downhill from here. During the eighties, the rating started dropping steadily, reaching an all-time low of 4.15 milion couch-warming bottoms in 1989, the last season of the classic era.

Years passed, 16 of those years to be exact, and here comes our saviour RTD. Under his wings, the revived series premiered, bringing in over 10 milion viewers to the premiere episode of season 1, Rose. A viewership this high did not last for long, but still, RTD’s seasons averaged between 7 and 8 milion viewers per season, which seemed pretty respectable. But then, as the story likes to repeat itself, not unlike the bbc execs just did, along came the decline again. Ever since 2010, the ratings began steadily dropping again, from 7.95 in 2010 to 5.46 in 2017. Then DW experienced an unexpected peak in 2018 with the premiere of Jodie Whittaker’s first season, which averaged 7.96 viewing asses, but then continued the dropping trend on the next season, averaging 5.40 viewing butts.

So what went wrong?

You see, part of the reason that Doctor Who was bringing in such great viewership numbers in the 60′s and 70′s, was that, to put it simply, BBC did not have much competition. Or, to be exact, only had one competitor. ITV was literally founded in order to break BBC’s monopoly over British television. But in the 80′s, with the launch of Channel 4 and Sky, the british viewers had more and more options to choose from. So logically speaking, they no longer had to watch BBC’s programming just because there was nothing else on. There was more and more new programes to boredom-watch. And here’s something y’all need to know about the tv industry: the boredom-watchers, the casuals? That’s the most important demographic. As hard as it might be to swallow, us hardcore fans, forum dwellers and Ao3 gremlins, we’re not as big of a group as we’d like to think. Loving fans are important to the tv execs as providers of word-of-mouth advertisment, but the real numbers come from the casual, everyday viewer who will just put on the next episode cause the other one was kinda fun I guess. Or more fun than the other options, anyway.

And this is why, by the way, when someone is conflating low viewership with the show Dissapointing The Fans, they’re full of shit. I’m sorry, but we’re really not that much of a force here, definitely not enough to make such a big impact on the numbers. Another factor, that some of you probably noticed already, is that the numbers I’m quoting are from british tv only, while the online fandom is very much international, so our opinions matter even less to the british execs, I’m sorry again, hard pill to swallow I know, but true nonetheless.

But I digress. So, to sum up the previous paragraph, Doctor Who’s viewership decline in the 80′s was the effect of the changing landscape of the TV industry, with which the BBC struggled to come to terms with.

Sound familiar?

Let’s move on to the 2010′s, shall we?

2010 was is actually a good marker of a year to choose, because it marks one important thing that begun a big change in the industry. This was the year in which Netflix expanded their services overseas, from being a DVD rental company to providing VOD services. Over the next decade streaming services grew in importance, from being an add-on to your cable TV that you didn’t really want but they were throwing it in for cheap, to very much self-sustainable media services you might very well buy instead of buying the cable. And if you look at the numbers for Doctor Who viewership declining over the last 10 years, that’s precisely what’s been happening. It’s not that people don’t want to watch Doctor Who on tv, they don’t want to watch tv in general. Do you know what was the most popular channel in Britain this year? Can you guess? Fucking Netflix that’s what. It’s just slowly-yet-steadily ceasing to be the way we use home entertainment anymore. Again, not much to do with the audience approval, because for that matter, let’s see about the specific episodes that saw the spikes in viewership.

Rose, which i mentioned at the start of it, was for the longest time the unquestionable queen when it comes to viewership, at 10.81 milion. The next episode, The End of the World, pulled in 7.97 - almost 3 millions worth of lost viewer-butts in one week? Is it because it was so much worse than it’s predecessor? No, it simply did not have the smell of Newness, the Event You Must See, and as such brought forth less of the casual viewers who were simply curious about The New Thing. The next season followed the similar formula, peaking at the premiere, when the marketing was at it’s strongest, going down during the season, sometimes rising slightly for the finale, sometimes not. The most popular episodes are, of course, the specials - yet again, the vibe of The Event To Be Seen worked here, but one more thing working to their advantage is they often aired in spaces between seasons, serving as both a long-waited Crumbs of Content for the fans, and the basically stand-alones for the casuals. Do you know what the single most watched episode of revived DW is? No, it’s not Tennant’s goodbye with the role (yeah I know, I thought it had to be that as well). It was Voyage of the Damned, between seasons 3 and 4. The perfect standalone for the casual watcher. And last but not least, you know one more special feature that brought, maybe not as much, but definitely more than expected? The 1996 movie Doctor Who, with 9.08 million. Again, a perfect standalone.

But the standalones aren’t the only way to grab the viewership. The currently-highest viewing non-special episode of DW? The Woman Who Fell to Earth, Jodie Whittaker’s introduction. In 2018 no less, in the year when the streaming was the ruler supreme, this episode brought a whooping 10.96 million buts to the good ol’ TV again. Let me reiterate: this episode brought in more viewers than Rose did in 2005, while having WAY more competition and way less favorable circumstances of release that RTD’s debiut did. Not only that, it managed to bring on some numbers for the entire season as well, not as good of course as the premiere (because again, the Event vibes faded), but still brought a better average than the last six seasons did. (Again, let me reiterate: more than the last SIX seasons. More viewership than any series since 2010, since the Streaming Wars.) So clearly, this must be the way, right? Catering to this Weird New Trend, that saw directors notice there do in fact exist other actors than white men, that surely brought in some profit, even Marvel does it now, right? Out with the old, in with the new!

Part 2 The Deceitful Charm of Nostalgia

Well, it turns out the whole Doing New Things deal didn’t work out that well after all, now did it? The second season penned by Chibbnal averaged 5.40 milion, that’s 2.5 million drop from the previous one! It must mean it didn’t work, right? Well, yes and no. As much as the refreshment of the formula as simple as Let’s Put A Woman In It absolutely worked for one season, it very visibly did not hold up for longer. An Event-Episode is something that can still happen on TV, Event-Series? That’s pretty much reserved for streaming now, if you think about it, and it’s honestly kind of a miracle that Series 11 did as well as it had. Two consecutive Event-Series on network tv? Flat out impossible.

So how to make those ratings great again? How to get those butts in seats of the Good Ol’? Well, the execs of the BBC have a plan for that. They brought in a devouring beast, and it’s name is: Nostalgia.

Without a doubt, there is a number of people who feel nostalgic about RTD’s era of Doctor Who. It’s a lot of people’s fond childhood memory, or the series they started with, and judging by the numbers, there should be quite a lot of them. So the new plan, as it appears, is to get to those who maybe lost interest in the show and lure them with the promise of the thing That Is Totally Like The Thing You Used To Love, Remember? (This is why I don’t actually think that RTD will be allowed to do anything new and interesting, that’s not what they hired him for. And that’s why I think this is bad from the creative standpoint.) So there are two questions here: One, will the people be lured? And two, for how long?

Nostalgia as a marketing strategy is something that you’re probably sick of seeing already (I know I am). But it has very much been effective on many levels, especially the eighties-baiting, Stranger Things style, can bring a new IP up to relevance. But what about old IP’s that want to have a comeback?

It’s kind of dificult to find another TV show that I could compare to Doctor Who. Most series that have been running for that long are mostly soap operas, that operate on slightly different rules, and are also targeted to a different audience. So as much as the movie series is still not exactly the best comparison, when I think about a big IP, campy sci-fi, family-oriented (at least in theory) on its path back to relevance, I think about Star Wars, obviously. The Force Awakens gambled on that nostalgic feeling and won big, but the next two movies, while still financially successful, were nowhere near the astounding success of the first one. And that’s because - you guessed it - it created the Event You Must See again, The Great Comeback, but merely two years later, the comeback became old news. So what we can gain from that is that nostalgia can create an Event as well as a new trend, if not better. But the question remains: how long will that last?

That is, after all, the main difference between a movie franchise and a TV series in the traditional, network TV sense of the word: movie franchise must bring in the viewership every year or two, and TV series must bring in viewers every week for at least two months. Is RTD’s Nostalgia Vibes enough to provide for that?

I’ll say this: I’m absolutely certain that the 60th anniversary will be very popular. I still don’t think it will break any records because, as I’ve been trying to explain for this whole post, it is not 2007 anymore no matter how much the tv execs would like it to be. But ironically, the almost-certain success of the special is the very thing that could undermine the effect of bringing their precious Nostagia Boi back onboard. Remember, the first Event Episode is The Big Oof. That’s the one that gets asses to the Good Ol’, if anything ever does. After the first big event one, that’s the point when things start going down. They’re wasting their Special Event Boi for something that already would be an event, dear fucking gods, I hate your plan and I would still execute it better. Either have RTD be the Anniversary Guy and then hire someone new, use that hype and keep it going, OR have RTD come in after the anniversary, then at least you get the Event Effect for the premiere of his first return season. Fukin’ amateurs.

But even if they did that, here’s the thing: do you think that the people who departed from the show years ago actually want to watch another three to five seasons of The RTD Show? I mean, I’m sure the thought warmed some hearts, for sure. A number of people will definitely gladly watch the anniversary, probably the first few episodes of the first return to the basics, but after that? In the world when, due to streaming, they have an easy way to revisit the actual thing they’re nostalgic towards? I honestly don’t think so. And you’re not really gonna get many new people by going back, if that nostalgia factor isn’t there. And then there’s casual viewers, the backbone, as we established. And here’s the thing: lots of those people don’t even know who the current showrunner is, cause they’re not Terminally Online like we are, and the second thing? Lots of those people ARE JUST NOT WATCHING NETWORK TV, IM SORRY GARRY. They’re just. They’re just not. I don’t know how to spell it out better. Even my mum has netflix now. Your biggest base is in another castle mate, gotta get moving and gotta get moving quick, cause here’s another thing: all the nostalgia in the world will not do SHIT for you if your target, people who were kids/teens when the RTD era was airing, PROBABLY DON’T EVEN HAVE A FUCKING TV ANYMORE CAUSE THEY MOVED OUT OF THEIR PARENTS FLAT AND LOTS OF YOUNG PEOPLE JUST DON’T BOTHER. Just. I’m sorry but you’re trying to resuscitate a decade-deceased corpse there buddy. It just won’t work. The times have changed and you gotta swim or drown, and it’s just not gonna be 2005 again, no matter how hard you pretend it is. It’s not your content it’s your business model. Just push more marketing for your iplayer or whatever, focus on streaming as your primary not your secondary cause that’s just what it is now, and maybe don’t rely on the viewer-counting systems of the yesteryear to evaluate your business. Or else you’re gonna get stuck sacrificing the creative growth of your show for a marketing strategy that probably won’t even fucking WORK.

There, I got it of my chest. Feel free to reblog, and also: you somehow got to the end of this, congrats! I’ll make numbers nerds out of y’all yet.

#it's like. my sister and I were #watching a movie lately. the one with multiple will smiths and the de-aging tech #(don't recommend it it's real boring)#but when Youngened Will Smith appeared on the screen my sister got my spiting my tea laughing by innocently saying:#"oh i don't know this actor. it's nice that they're giving opportunities to the young actors. great to see a new face in the biz''#and u know what #this rehire is the same fucking vibe to me #some cunts from marketing plastering make-up to an old man's face and pretending its 2005 still #anyway #doctor who #i guess.

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josy1986 · 4 years

Text

Period Pains

Beca Mitchel suffers from heavy cramps during terror week.

Beca never was the extremely girly type like most of the other Bellas but during that special time of the month, she surely hated being a woman.

The DJ laid curled up on her bed, wishing to god she had been born a man instead of an incubator on legs.

Fuck sake, why the hell do we need this kind of reminder we’re not knocked up?! She groaned, holding the pillow against her body even tighter. Her periods had surprised her this morning and had cursed like a sailor during her bathroom visit. The bloody mess wasn’t even the worst, the cramps she had to endure were horrible and her small bottle of vicodin was empty. Normal painkillers didn’t work for her and her doctor had given her a prescription for heavier ones that did. Unfortunately for her, she had run out last month and she was in no state to get a refill.

However, she had sent a text to Jesse, asking if he could do it for her. He was currently on his way to the Bellas house to pick up the prescription and go out to get Beca’s refill. She hoped to god he would hurry.

Chloe had gone out to a small grocery shop on campus, came to the realization that she forgot her wallet on her way there and turned back around. She arrived back at the house right when Jesse did. She watched the young approach and gave him a polite smile. “Morning.” She said, taking out the key to open the door.

“Hey, I’m here for Beca.” He stated and Chloe rolled her eyes, her back towards him as she finally opened the door and walked in.

Well duh, captain obvious… “She should be in her room. Which I’m sure you’ll be able to find.” She said, it was a bit more snarky than she probably had intended.

While he went upstairs, she kicked off her shoes, walked into the kitchen and took a bottle of cold water from the fridge. She settled on the couch in the living room while drinking, checking her phone to browse her social media before she would look for her lost wallet.

It was only a few minutes later that she suddenly heard voices coming from upstairs. She couldn’t quite make out what was being said, but she could clearly hear Beca yelling and she sounded angry. Several seconds later, a door opened, Jesse came rushing down the stairs and hurried out the front door. Chloe frowned and after putting her water and phone down, she got back on her feet.

Slowly but surely, she walked up the stairs and headed to Beca’s room. “Beca..?” Her voice was soft and filled with worry. She wasn’t sure what happened but Beca didn’t usually yell at anyone. Unless you touched her music equipment and computer. If she caught you touching it you’d be flying out the window.

The door to Beca’s room was open slightly and after Chloe called for the DJ, she heard a soft but clearly painful groan. “Chlo..?” A pained whimper followed. “Oh god…”

Chloe pushed against the door to find her friend curled onto her bed with a clear pained expression on her features. “Oh my god, Beca, what happened..? What’s the matter?” Chloe was next to the brunette before Beca could even blink, worry seeped into her voice.

Beca just buried her face into her pillow in shame. “Periods…” She mumbled but Chloe heard it nonetheless. She felt for her friend, she herself suffered from really bad cramps too during her periods.

“Is there something I can do?” She asked, carefully placing a hand on Beca’s shoulder who didn’t pull away from the touch. “Did you take anything for the pain yet?” Chloe wasn’t sure if her friend heard her questions but Beca eventually reacted with a soft whimper at first. Her body cramping up around the pillow, the action pulled the pillow away from Beca’s face and revealed how much pain the brunette really was in. It broke Chloe’s heart seeing her crush in such a state and not being able to help.

“I’m… out of pain medication.” She whispered, her voice cracked and she let out a soft sob.

“Let me see if I have some left.” When Chloe was about to get up, she was stopped by Beca’s hand around her wrist. The DJ was shaking her head.

“Normal pills… they don’t work.” Chloe put her hand on Beca’s when she felt the other woman squeeze, Beca took slow and deep breaths to ease herself through the pain. It didn’t really work but there was nothing else she could do. “I take vicodin… the stuff you can… just buy in stores, it simply doesn’t work.” Beca swallowed loudly, her eyes screwed shut when another horrible cramp hit her full force. “Oh god… Chloe…” Beca whimpered in pain and the redhead wrapped her arms quickly around her friend, holding her close to offer some sort of comfort. The fact that Beca allowed her told her all she needed to know. The brunette wasn’t the touchy feely type, displays of affection among friends was something she never did.

“I got some heavy pills too. I should have a few left.” Chloe whispered although she didn’t want to leave Beca, not even for the few short minutes she would have to leave, go to her own room and come back.

Beca nodded and reluctantly let go of Chloe’s clothes so the redhead could leave. She watched her friend leave, feeling like it took half a day before she eventually returned. Right when another massive cramp hit her and took away her ability to breathe for a few short seconds. “Chloe…!” She cried right when the woman in question reentered the room.

“I’m here! I’m here Becs.” She assured the brunette who was holding out her hand for Chloe to take. Which the older Bella did while squatting down next to Beca’s bed. “I’m here, I got two pills for you. Here.” She held the pills in her free hand while the other was still occupied with holding Beca’s.

The DJ took a few seconds to compose herself, pushing herself up after letting go of Chloe’s hand, afraid she might crush it otherwise. Once she was sitting with her back against the wall for support, she took the offered pills along with some water that Chloe brought with her. Once the pills were down, she let out a deep sigh. “Thanks…” And offered Chloe a shy, pained smile.

Chloe offered a warm smile in return and settled next to her friend on the bed. “You’re very welcome, glad I could help.” Chloe felt her heart skip a beat when they locked eyes for a moment. Beca swallowed hard but quickly looked away, focussing instead on the wall at the opposite of her bed.

One hand resting on her belly while the other laid on the bed, between her and Chloe. The redhead looked at the hand, biting her lower lip while considering to put her own on Beca’s. Instead of just blatantly putting her hand on the brunettes, she placed her own right next to Beca’s. Giving her friend the opportunity to initiate anything if she’d want to.

“So… why did Jesse run out the door..?” Chloe started but it had the opposite effect of what she had hoped. Beca groaned in frustration and let herself flop back down onto the mattress.

“Cause he’s a fucking idiot… that’s why.” She muttered and let out a deep sigh of frustration, her hand now resting on the mattress next her. She waited for a few seconds before she continued. “I uh… I asked him if he could get my refill…” She said with a soft voice.

“He didn’t want to get it for you?” What an asshole.

“Oh, no he did.”

Damnit, not an asshole then.

“But uh… he asked for a blowjob as a reward.”

Nevermind, still an asshole. “Oh my god! Are you kidding me..?” She was genuinely in shock.

“Yeah, that’s what I said too.” Beca grumbled, wrapping her other arm around her lower body when a new massive cramp announced itself. It momentarily robbed her of her ability to speak and breathe. She curled up into a ball, wishing to god that her crush wasn’t there to see her in such vulnerable state.

“Is… is there something I can do…?” Chloe offered, god how she just wanted to hold the brunette and give her some kind of comfort. That’s how she usually dealt with her own monthly week of terror. Aubrey being the one that cuddled up with her and watched movies together. However, Aubrey graduated and was commanding people around somewhere in the wild. This was the first time that she found Beca in such a state, her heart ached thinking that the brunette had to go through this every month on her own.

Chloe waited for an answer, hoping that Beca wouldn’t pull those walls back up and close herself off but the brunette remained silent. “I… I’ll be out of your hair again.” Chloe said and scooted closer to the bed’s edge so she could slip off. Before she could in fact get off, a weak and surprisingly cold hand, wrapped around her wrist. Chloe looked at her wrist first before looking at Beca, who looked at her with red eyes.

“Don’t.” She whispered and the redhead could feel the DJ tremble. “Please, stay.” There was something in her voice that Chloe never heard before: desperation. “I’m sorry, I’m just…” She sniffled, gently letting go of Chloe’s wrist.

Chloe smiled softly and instead of getting off of the bed, she moved to lay next to her friend instead. “Come here.” She whispered and Beca did just that, both women moving closer to one another.

Beca slipped her arms around Chloe’s waist, her head nestled under her friend’s chin. As much as she hated feeling like this, so incredibly needy and clingy, this was really nice. Chloe’s arms around her body made her feel safe and secure. Made her feel like she wasn’t alone in the world.

“Comfy…?” Chloe asked and it broke Beca’s train of thoughts.

“Yeah… thanks.” She mumbled against Chloe’s skin, she was warm, soft and comfortable. She was the only one that Beca allowed to peek past the walls around her heart.

Chloe’s heart hammered in her chest, her arms around her favorite person, being this close to her. About an hour ago she thought this was her worst day of the week when she realized she forgot her wallet. How that turned around to this, she had no idea but boy was she grateful for it. Without realizing it, she started to gently caress Beca’s hair. It was something she personally loved being done to her, so she hoped Beca would too. A soft hum of approval followed by a sigh in relief was all and more than she could have hoped for.

“Feels nice…” Beca whispered, her eyes closed while just enjoying the moment for once.

“Glad you like it, I love it when someone plays with my hair.” Chloe said and let out a giggle when she heard Beca yawn.

“Oh, shit, sorry about that.” She apologised sincerely. “You’re being so sweet and cute and I’m just falling asleep.”

Chloe bit her lower lip, smiling. Did she just call me cute? A faint blush on her cheeks. “That’s okay, take a nap, the medication should be working by the time you wake up.”

“Mhn… I love strawberries…” Beca mumbled, clearly dozing off to sleep, the smell of Chloe’s shampoo clear as day while she took a slow, deep breath.

Chloe just listened while Beca’s breathing slowly evened out, a clear sign for the brunette that she did indeed fall asleep. She shifted her position slightly, only enough for her to look down and watch the woman she loved sleep peacefully. The walls around Beca, even though still present, Chloe managed to finally get to the other side and see the real Beca.

Her face showed no signs of pain or discomfort anymore now that she slept and cuddled up against Chloe. The older Bella couldn’t help herself and carefully cupped Beca’s cheek and to her surprise, the DJ smiled ever so slightly at the touch. Letting out the softest ‘mhn’.

Jesus, how can someone be this cute… Chloe swallowed hard when her eyes moved to Beca’s lips. It would be the easiest thing to close the small gap between them and kiss her. No… No! I’m not Jesse, no matter how much I..- No. Her hand remained on Beca's face but she placed her head back in its former position. Her chin resting on the top of the brunette’s head while she felt that sleep would claim her soon too.

Chloe stared at the wall, her thumb gently caressing the skin of Beca’s cheek. I wish I could tell you how I truly felt about you, Beca… She let her thoughts drift to the moment she had almost kissed the brunette during aca-initiation night.

Chloe was tipsy already when she had grabbed both of Beca’s wrists and pulled her in. She cringed at the memory of her telling Beca how she knew they’d be best friends really soon. I had to say something…! She facepalmed herself internally. That memory now is full of regret and missed opportunities.

Beca Mitchel, the woman that single handedly turned her world upside down. The woman whose smile made Chloe’s heart skip a beat. The woman who, with a single look, could make her weak in the knees. The woman who could undo her with a touch as simple as holding onto her wrist.

While she shifted her position slightly to be able to look at Beca’s face, she felt her heart break. She let her eyes flutter shut, her friends face the last thing on her mind as sleep finally claimed her too.

The woman I’m so desperately in love with, it hurts.

@chloebeale

#Bechloe #Beca Mitchel #Chloe Beale #Pitch Perfect fanfiction #Beca and Chloe #Bechloe fanfiction #Bechloe cuteness #Pitch Perfect

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cacti-are-like-flamingos · 4 years

Text

addiction

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Warnings: Serious themes - mentions of drugs and addiction, depression, swearing

Summary: The pain of injuries can only be tolerated for so long before they become too much.

Reader is gender neutral

...

Sometimes it was bearable, other times? Dabi straight up wanted to die. He was tired of the endless cycle of healing and then burning his wounds over and over and over again. He just wanted it to stop. Why wouldn’t it stop? I mean he tried everything. He tried not using his Quirk for a year, but for some reason, it just didn’t get better. He thought that if he could stop using the main cause of his never-ending torture, he’d be fine. But then...why did he still want to die? Then again, there’s his past, and that by itself would make anyone want to kill themselves.

Sighing, the raven haired stretched over the couch, his hand reaching over to the bottle of pills sitting beside the raggedy couch on the termite infested nightstand. Unscrewing the cap, he quickly took two little white pills before popping them in his mouth and swallowing them down. Placing the cap back on, he examined the bottle itself. See-through orange plastic with a worn, dirty white label on it. The corners of it peeling off to reveal sticky black residue.

OxyContin

(oxycodone hydrochloride)

Take 1 tablet every 3 hours as needed

He scoffed under his breath.

Every three hours my ass, he thought. By this point, his body was too dependent on the readily available drug. It needed it to survive. And all he could do was be a slave to the need.

Reaching into the inside pocket of his coat, Dabi pulled out a small box of cigarettes, taking one out before putting the box back to its rightful place. With a snap of his fingers, he activated a small blue flame at his fingertips. Pushing the tip of the stick to the flame, he quickly put the flame out before placing the stick up to his lips. The flesh molding over the cigarette beautifully as he breathed in the nicotine. And there folks, was another addiction of his. Nicotine. He remembered the first time he smoked, he was young, possibly around 13 years old. In his mind, it was bound to happen. Afterall, his quirk was fire based and his father’s as well. Wherever there’s smoke, there’s fire, he remembered someone once telling him.

He was 13 years old when a group of gangbangers came up to him and asked him for a lighter. He legit has no clue as to why they would as a literal child if they had a lighter but whatever. Instead of pulling out one, he snapped his fingers just like now. They were so impressed by his Quirk that the gifted him a cig, telling him that it was good and shit like that. In the end, peer pressure got to him and he took a huff. Sounded like an asthmatic afterwards but yeah. That was his life. Pills, cigarettes, and depression. You’d think he’d be an alcoholic; however, surprisingly enough, he didn’t like the taste of alcohol much. I mean he drank, yeah, but liberally. Nonetheless, he’s life was literally depressing. There was the occasional excitement he received after joining the League of Villains, scaring kids was beautiful. Putting Pro-Heroes on their toes was also beautiful. But it was also quite tiring. Especially with Shigaraki’s constant babbling about stupid shit. And then, all of a sudden, Shigaraki and Kurogiri call for a meeting.

They want to introduce a new member to the team?

What?

He knows everything and yet, he didn’t know this? Impossible.

And here you come. Strolling through the door with a small smile n your face, your eyes sparkling with both nervousness and excitement. Yet, the faintest hint of death rang about them.

You were a sight to behold. That much he could admit.

“This is (Y/n). She’s a powerful player in our game against the Heroes so treat her well.” Was all Shigaraki said.

Soon after, Toga had taken on the responsibility to annoy you until your ears bled.

He wanted to say you were different, but in all honesty, you really weren’t. You had your fair share of traumas, you had bloodlust, you had a sickness. You just went about it in a different method. You never once really laid a hand on the children of UA, and that by itself earned you trouble with Shigaraki. In fact, you were even informing the students bout their mistakes, teaching them the correct way, and how to get out of the box with their fighting style. At first, he just couldn’t understand. Why were you helping the enemy? And then he heard you say something to them. Not just to one, but to the whole class.

“My enemy isn’t you. My enemy is the Hero Commission. And it should be yours too. Before you even join something, you should research everything about it.”

In his eyes, you changed. Or more so, his view on you changed.

After that night, his relationship with you shifted. Back then he didn’t talk to you much, just a few words whenever you bumped each other in the ungodliest of hours. The two of you finding it hard to sleep. He would often joke that if he didn’t have skin grafts under his eyes, he would have raccoon eyes just like you. And you quickly retort with, “What are you even talking about? You’re a literal zombified raccoon.” How long has it been since he’s genuinely laughed like that night? Hell, he couldn’t even fucking remember.

As time passed, he began to notice that whenever he was with you, the pain would be more bearable. Maybe it was because your quirk’s minor power was healing, or maybe it was also because you had somehow become his little dose of serotonin. Either way, he was addicted to you. He still popped pills, but it was less. He still smoked, but it was less.

He smiled at the mold-covered ceiling, eyes glowing neon blue as thoughts of you popped into his head.

“Dabi?” Speak of the devil.

“Hm?”

“Hm.” You responded before coming over and settling yourself into the couch, flinching as you felt the cracked skin of the leather couch dig into your bare thighs. Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you shifted so that you were now laying your head on his left shoulder, your hair tickling the skin of his neck.

Seeing the orange bottle in his hand, you paused. You just stared at it while he stared at you from he corner of his eyes. And with a blank expression, you gently pulled the bottle out of his grip before stretching over to place it back on the nightstand. All before moving back to him and snuggling into his warmth.

He found comfort in your silence and unquestioning nature. You never talked about his addiction, never pestered him with questions of his childhood like Toga or Twice did. Never mocked him like Shigaraki. You were just quiet. Never judging, never scolding, never prying. Yeah, now that he realizes this, never once had you asked him to open up. You never once tried to fix him like most of fanfic’s depict. Instead, you just accepted him for his present self. However, that didn’t mean that you agreed with how he handled his pain. Most of the time, when ever he used his Quirk for a long period of time, you could always make sure to heal him causing him to lessen his pill taking. One time, he even tried detoxing. All by himself. That was a shit idea.

He could’ve sworn he was quiet, but apparently, your ears could catch even the steps of a mouse for in mere seconds you were already knocking at his door. You must’ve arrived from a mission too because when he didn’t answer, you barged right through the doorway still wearing your get-up. The look of pure rage on your face kind of made it worse but we don’t really talk about it. Despite all this, it was then that he learned you could help with withdrawal symptoms. And it was also then, that your relationship shifted into even deeper territory.

He wasn’t able to stop his addiction.

Instead, he developed yet another.

The horrible addiction of that is

you.

...

(A/N): I just wanted to portray Dabi in a different light because a lot of people forget that if Dabi’s has burns all over his body, he would most likely develop an addiction to pain killer’s because they would heal and then get burned again--- or at least that’s how I see it. Also apologies if this a bad representation on addiction, it’s my first time writing about the subject. But nonetheless,

Hope you enjoyed!

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korpuskat · 4 years

Text

Start Game [Tomura Shigaraki/Reader] - Part 3

[Ao3 Mirror]

Rating: Mature Word Count: 3,574 Summary: It’s a date, kind of, and goes about as well as a date with Tomura Shigaraki can. Contains: AFAB but Gender Neutral Reader, mentions of previous sexual activity (see part 2), soft Shigaraki

===== [Part 1] [Part 2] [You are here] [Part 4] =====

“There’s a good burger place.” Tomura says, watches your fingers move across the screen of your phone, scanning over the rows and rows of recommended restaurants. Places you didn’t know or recognize- “Here.” With his uninjured left hand he points- and you’re all too aware of how he keeps his fingers away from you. His whole hand arching away from yours.

It makes you look up to his face again- he doesn't seem perturbed. After all, the rest of his body is pressed right up against you, slotted between your sided and the wall, why would he avoid touching you now? He’d been all too happy to try to fuck you into his bed not five minutes ago. But his finger, slender and pale, the nail well-bitten down to the quick, taps on your screen and draws your attention. You look back just in time to watch him navigate through the site to a menu.

You read through it- and Tomura shifts beside you. You blink, watch as he pushes himself up onto his slender arms. He winces, holds his bandaged right hand with his left, little finger held away. You tip your head. Maybe it’s not just you.

He moves again, scooting towards the edge of his bed- and this time his scowl deepens, twists into disgust. You think you can tell why, at least. A dark patch has grown over the front of his sweatpants- the thick, loose fabric stretching as he pulls it between two fingers. You flush, can’t help the little thrill that brings a grin to your face-- you did that to him.

“Pick something.” He grumbles, standing awkwardly, pulling the messed up pants away from his crotch. His grimace only deepens. “I need to change.”

Though your problem is not nearly as obnoxious as his, you’re a little jealous. Your underwear has become slick between your legs, soaking up all the arousal that had oozed freely with your grinding. Now it's left clinging and uncomfortable with every tiny movement, though surely not as obnoxiously chafing as Tomura's must be.

You do your best to read the menu, to think about toppings and sides and if you should get a shake with it- but in reality your eyes keep darting over to Tomura’s long limbs as he picks through his messy room. He kicks at a pile of mostly black dirty clothes before frowning, the lines around his eyes deepening. The actual dresser is his next target, pulling open the drawers one by one and from how deep he has to reach inside, you wonder when the last time he put away his clothes was. But he pulls a lump of black cloth out and unfolds it-

And his hands touch the waistband of his pants. No hesitation, no glance back towards you. Not a modicum of modesty. He turns away just enough and whatever shame still keeps you human has your eyes locked onto your phone screen. But your peripherals don’t lie- Tomura shucks the black pants from his legs, long streaks You try so hard not to look- he’s turned away from you, he obviously doesn’t want you to ogle him, right? Right?

But he stumbles. One hand landing on the dresser, the assorted knick-knacks there shake, clink off something ceramic. The hand other grabs his leg- and you start to gasp; his thighs are wrapped up in bandages, just like his arms. The need to ask if he's alright rises to your lips- and dies just as quickly. His shirt covers to the tops of his thighs, but a thin stripe of pale skin peeks between the old bandages and black shirt. The sight makes your mouth go dry, your body stilling- Tomura mutters something to himself and you force your eyes back to your screen. He keeps moving in your peripherals, but this time fear keeps your gaze from drifting.

Does he know you looked? Sweat beads at your temple, fear and shame twist in your belly (and you work very hard to ignore how much you would love to appreciate that nary inch of skin you saw). He shuffles back towards you- and oh god, can he tell how hard you’re blushing in the low light? Should you just tell him? He probably doesn’t care too much, right?

“Here.” Something soft and black flumps beside you on the bed. You glance towards it, but can't quite make out what you're looking at. “You pick something yet?”

“Oh, um, no.” You bite your lip and glance up towards him- and his eyes glitter with mischief. Subdued, not that same overpowering thing that makes his mouth split into a wide, manic grin- but still there nonetheless. The corners of his eyes upturned, the tiniest sly smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. Your hands shake, so you hold your phone to your chest.

“I’ll order you my favorite. You’ll like it.” He nods towards what he’d dropped beside you. “If you need to…” He inhales, glances down your body, “Change. While I go pick it up.”

You blink, “We aren’t going out?”

Tomura’s hand rests on the doorknob, doesn’t speak for a minute- and like a curtain falling, his expression shifts. The mischief in his eyes turns sour, a dark cousin to the excited glint he’d had in the arcade. “It’s late. Lots of villains around lately.” He pauses, licks his lips. “Does that scare you?”

You think for a moment- but, to be honest, aside from what you saw on the news you’d never really dealt with villains. Of course what you’d read in the news was scary… You swallow your nerves, try to push a soft smile into your voice. “Well.. You’d protect me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.” It rushes from his mouth, too fast to play it off as a joke- and he doesn’t bother. It’s all genuine, a sincerity sinking into his voice. The dark glittering in his expression doesn't fade, one corner of his mouth pulling up, as though grinning at a joke only he could hear. “Of course.”

The smile catches, and you can’t help but tease a little. “Big, bad Dust going for the save, playing the hero.” You laugh to yourself.

It’s the utterly wrong thing to say. The softness evaporates from his face so fast your blood freezes, chills cascade over the back of your neck. The red eyes you’d found warmth in so many times are distant, shut off- and there's something different about his body now. The stiff way he holds himself makes your stomach churn, makes the tendons in your legs tense with every last vestige of prey instinct screaming to run. “Heroes wouldn’t save you.”

"Heroes...?" Your teeth sink into your lip- still tender from Tomura’s biting- and choke on some kind of apology. You don’t know what’s happened, what you said that twisted the mood so foully. Red eyes weigh on you and you waver under their cold pressure. Your fingers pick at the buttons on your phone and fret, would he ask you to leave? “I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to upset you…”

But just as your shoulders truly begin to collapse in on your chest, he sighs. A low, rumbling rush of air- and he crosses back towards the bed. You blink up to him- find your eyes wet and beginning to blur at the corners- and he looks down at you with a rueful softness. “You’re sweet…” He touches your hair. Swelling in your chest, your head pounds against your ribs. He touches your hair- presses his palm down against your head, only two fingers actually sinking into your hair to scratch at your scalp. It’s not your face that he looks at- it’s his own hand; his eyeline is too far above you to be anything else. “Cute…”

Oh. Your head sways, suddenly dizzy with the emotional whiplash- and then his closeness and touch and praise and what is so close to tenderness in his expression. But at the first tip of your head, arching up towards his hand in subconscious desire for more- He withdraws too quickly to be casual or planned. A sudden jerk away, as though you'd burned him. Were you too forward? Too needy? But Tomura cuts you off, “Change.” and his voice is not unkind. Any worries that you’d done something wrong fade away. “I’ll get the food.” He’s out the door before you can protest.

You touch the clothes he’d left for you and a soft huff of laughter follows as your fingers trace over his selection. A rumpled black shirt with a logo for Orbital Force in patchy red and blue peeling vinyl and pilling drawstring sweatpants that have been worn down so much they look gray. You bite your lip and unfold them, double check. Shirt. Pants. Surely you've missed it. Shirt, still from being at the bottom of his dresser drawer for too long. Pants that look near threadbare along the inner thighs.

The dampness between your legs slides uncomfortably on your thighs. He didn’t offer you any underwear. Would that be too weird, to give you a pair of his own? If he was offering you clothes anyway- and why a shirt? Yours seemed fine, you weren’t terribly sweaty, were you?-- why not include what had been surely the most pressing article of clothing for him?

The gears turn for a moment- but a glance over towards his discarded pants is all it takes to slot those pieces together. The smeared, drying evidence of your liaison makes your cheeks heat again. The gears screech to a halt and your thoughts stops dead in their tracks. You ease off the edge of the bed just to look closer, to make sure-

Oh. It’s all over the inside of his pants. Only his pants. No underwear to be seen.

Oh.

Was he always…? Every time you’d met up with him…? You swallowed thickly, unsure what to make of that.

Even without underwear (and... would you even have been be able to bring yourself to wear his if he had offered it?), the mess on your thighs needed to be tended to. Clean pants sans underwear would have to be better than what you had now.

He hadn't shown you where the bathroom was, either. Tomura certainly left you in a bit of an odd situation- but hey. If he was okay changing in front of you, he must be alright with you changing in his room, right? You click the little doorknob lock into place just to be sure and awkwardly shuck your very, very wet underwear and pants. Staring at the door, as though Tomura would somehow be back within seconds, you wipe the remnants of your arousal from your thighs.

Holding up Tomura's oversized sweatpants, though, you feel a little bad. They'll definitely end up smelling like... you. Or. Maybe he'd like that? Your fingers play with the drawstrings. Maybe he won't want them back. That has you smiling; you could have something of his. With that you step through the leg holes- and wonder exactly how tight he must pull the cords to keep the blanketing garment on his thin waist.

There's no mirror in the room for you to check how you look, but they fit you surprisingly well, the fabric softened with time and wear. The shirt still lays spread out on Tomura's bed. You really don't need to change your shirt... but you lift it, sink your nose into the fabric and inhale. It's old, definitely having been stuffed in his drawer for quite some time, but beneath the vague, lingering mustiness of being set away for a while, there's something else. You breathe in, close your eyes- it's... masculine. Kind of like old sweat that didn't quite get washed away, as though he hadn't used enough detergent. It's not a bad scent, you decide.

You swap your shirt out for his.

Your clothes awkwardly bundled together, you leave them near the end of his bed so you won't forget them. One little click to unlock his door and you're left looking around. You don't really want to snoop too much... Tomura's always been kind of private with you. So you settle back onto his bed, picking up your phone again and flicking through your apps restlessly. How long would he take? You didn't even think to ask before he went out.

Across the room, the game's stats screen dimmed, the camera still spinning over the map, waiting for input. The controllers sit on his nightstand- you blink.

His gloves lay over his clock, the green light of the display making them glow faintly. He's never taken them off around you before- you'd never really asked why; it was never important. If it was sensory or Quirk-related, it wasn't really your business. But you'd kind of assumed he always wore them- but here they were. How much... did you really know about him? If you were going to do anything with him, shouldn't you know a little more than his first name and that he prefers strategic turn-based games to bullet hells?

You don't even know where you are-

"Miss me?" You jump- the door opens. Tomura's face is covered in shadow, his hood pulled low over his face, forcing his light hair to fluff out around his neck. In his arms, he has two soda cups pressed between his forearm and his chest, in each hand a paper bag held in his odd three-fingered grasp.

"That... was fast." You say, scooting over on the bed as he steps into the room, closing the door with the heel of his foot.

He drops the bags on the bed, knocking the mess on his nightstand out of the way to set down the drinks. In the dim light of his room, he blatantly looks over you. His scarred lips pulling at the corners. "You look good." Heat returns to your face and all you can do is duck your head, can't quite get the words thank you out. It doesn't matter because Tomura is already settling himself onto the bed.

He starts to open up one paper bag, hand halfway in the bag before sharply frowning. He glances up at you- an idea rolling around in his head, crimson eyes flitting over your face as he contemplates something. Tomura pulls back, twists towards his nightstand to grab the gloves he'd left before. He's careful putting them on, pinching the thin black fabric and methodically working it onto his hand. First, fitting the two fingers to be covered into their holes, then stretching the base over each finger individually until it wraps around his thin wrist. Tomura repeats the action with the other glove, this time using all the fingers of his gloved hand to assist.

You haven't even touched the food yet, your bag still crumpled together at the edge. Too caught up in watching those slender fingers move- the delicate precision he held with such impeccable control. One glance from under the edge of his hood has you startling, grabbing at your food with shame in being caught.

The food inside smells absolutely heavenly, promising a heavy and greasy meal; it makes your stomach grumble loudly. You fish out the burger, unwrapping it- and from the corner of your eye you watch as Tomura does the same. All five fingers of his now gloved left hand holding the burger up as he grabs a remote from the floor. A few button presses and the source changes, switching over to a livestreaming site. He navigates easily with one hand, biting at his meal as he chooses the first Cloud Seven streamer he finds.

It buffers for a moment, a loading icon circling on the screen- and you look at his hands again. Tomura sets the remote aside and holds his food with both hands. The question is too great, the curiosity blooming too readily- the need to know anything burgeoning and bursting forth-

In the silence of the room, your voice is too loud. "Is it... for your Quirk? The gloves?"

He stops, goes completely frozen. From under the soft fluff of his hair, his eyes are trained on you. Not even breathing- and just as with earlier, that sense of dread constricts in your belly.

You swallow and every cell in your body is now screaming out to backpedal, to apologize, just as you did earlier... but that wouldn't get you anywhere, would it? You'd be right back where you were, swept up in his intoxicating influence and none the wiser to who you spend you days with. So you lick your lips and take a shaky breath. "I... realized I don't really know much about you. And if this is supposed to be a date... I just thought..."

Tomura's only reaction is the narrowing of his eyes. You bite your cheek, lower your hands to your lap, stare down at your food. If he was embarrassed or ashamed of his own Quirk, you had him beat. "I'm Quirkless, if that makes you feel better." You laugh lightly, shrug. Years have worn you down, left you numb to just about any comment he could make. "So no matter what it is, it can't be as bad as me. I'm utterly unremarkable."

You don't know Tomura's opinion on Quirks overall well enough to guess his reaction- aren't sure what to expect when you look at him again. His brow has raised, stretched in shock, the tight corners of his lips relaxing slightly at your confession. Surprise, yes, you could work with that. His lips press together- just beginning to part again, to say something-

"Oh, oh, he's got the flashbang! No, no!" The stream roars to life. A teen in a gaming chair throws their head back in one corner of the display, his green screen wavering as he spins and groans at the now playing killcam of another player. "He's got like five health!"

At least it breaks the tension, gives you something else to focus on- and Tomura doesn't look at you again. His eyes break from yours, zero in on the screen and do not waver. You finally eat, just to quell the ache in your belly, even if there's a rising nausea with it. It's so hard to chart through your relationship, so many landmines and blackholes of forbidden topics- like anything outside of sex or games carried a peculiar danger to it.

That should really be a red flag. He's not just secretive or touchy about things, he's... guarded. Maybe you should just-

Knuckles bump against your shoulder, just enough to get your attention. You blink- and he holds out the soda cup. Perspiration beads around it, wiped smooth and shiny near his hands- the water soaking into his glove around his ring and little fingers. You touch the drink- "They are." You hold the drink dumbly, parsing his words before he clarifies. "They're for my Quirk."

Tomura's eyes flit to your face only once, a quick glance to judge your reaction. "Oh." You breathe out, and try very hard to not grin like an idiot. Maybe... he's just slow to open up. You take a sip of your drink and pretend that's what you're talking about. "Thank you."

He doesn't reply, but you don't miss how the tension eases out of his shoulders. Slowly, by inches, his predatorial stillness is replaced with a looseness. And though you worry about what has happened to him to make him so defensive, the joy of him putting in an effort has your eyes watering. Before you can fall prey to your own doubt, you scoot closer to him. Its awkward without your hands, hardly making any progress--

and Tomura plants one hand on the bed, hauls himself until his side is flush with yours. You can't help but squeak- even if you'd started it, you hadn't really expected him to close the distance so quickly. But he looks down at you and there's such a softness about his features, you can't help but smile- and arch up enough to get him to lean down and meet you halfway into a brief kiss.

The streamer plays on, cheering as he gets a cheeky kill only for karma to return just as swiftly. Beside you, Tomura's shoulders lift and shake, a tiny laugh that mostly escapes through his nose. You eat in peace, no other conversation necessary in the changing glow from the screen. In the end you crumple your wrapper and drop it back into the paper bag- and fully curl into Tomura's side.

"Come here," He says, pushing the trash bag onto the floor without a second thought. He stretches out, and you follow his lead, laying down beside him on the narrow mattress. It's a tight fit, but for this much contact with him- one gloved hand splayed over your back, his chest warm and firm under your head- it's more than enough. With him so near, the room so dark, it's easy to get lost in the steady, continuous beat of his heart, loud and strong in your ear. So easy to sigh in contentment, to let your eyes close-

and with his voice murmuring something you can't quite make out, it's just as easy to let yourself sleep next to him. Against your hair Tomura sighs, "You're not unremarkable."

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Tag List:

@annonymousbread

#start game #tomura shigaraki #tomura shigaraki fanfiction #tomura shigaraki imagine #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #tomura x you #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #bnha

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ethanharli · 4 years

Text

Pairing(s): Kuroo Tetsurou x Top Male Reader.

Warning(s): Cursing, Angst/Fluff.

DNI; if you use she/her pronouns.

__________

A sigh ripped past my throat as I stared down at my feet with hazy eyes, feeling the rain hit my body without mercy while I sat on the curb, not wanting to go home to where my parents fought and argued for the millionth time, at least my twin sister is at her training camp so she doesn't have to endure this shit. Then there's the fact my phone broke during my mother and I's fight, so I couldn't call anyone to see if I could stay over, even though I'd rather not bother anyone anyways, they probably got better things to do than deal with my ass. Groaning at the thought I tried to wipe the tears from my eyes when I heard footsteps approach, "[Y/n]? What are you doing in the rain?" My eyes widened at the familiar voice, turning my gaze his way I saw my usual bed headed boyfriend standing besides me, holding his umbrella over the both of us.

His cat like eyes staring down at me with confusion and worry, something I could never get used too. "They're fighting again.." Was all I muttered out, running a hand through my drenched [H/c] hair in order to move it out of my face while Kuroo held out his hand. "Come on then you're coming home with me" I had no time to object when he was already pulling me off the ground, forcing me against him, which nearly made us topple over, but an unusual sly smirk was now present on his face as he looked up at me, but the smirk wasn't one of the usual ones that girls and guy's alike would swoon over. "Should we get going?" I could only nod, keeping my gaze on him while he laced our fingers together, practically dragging me along with him under his umbrella.

His coat had a few wet spots from loose rain drops, the red of it reminding me of his Nekoma volleyball jacket. His focus stayed in front of us, a lingering determination hidden under the beautiful hazel of his eyes that I could look into for hours, and the way he held himself with confidence is something I will always admire, wishing I could do so myself, and mean it at least. Feigned confidence is something I can do well, but Kuroo has been the only one to see past it, hell he even pointed it out when we first met. "Getting a good look?" He chuckled, tightening his grip on my hand a bit in a comforting way that slowly brought a heat to my cheeks, "Maybe.." I muttered out, quickly turning my gaze away from the shorter male when a small, genuine smile was brought to his lips.

As much as I tried I couldn't stop my thoughts from wandering to their usual dark place, staring down at Kuroo and I's joined hands with furrowed brows. How could he love someone as expressionless as me? I can barley smile, I can't speak my mind without being scared of what he might think or say afterwards, even if deep down I know he cares, and that he'd never do anything to hurt me. It truly makes me wonder, how someone as great as him, would want to be with someone as broken as me, it's simply a hard pill for me to swallow. The sudden tap on my shoulder brought my attention back, seeing that we had finally arrived at Kuroo's house, him holding the door open for me with that worried gaze of his.

"Sorry.." Walking inside I took off my shoes and slipped on the slippers I kept here, not really wanting to walk throughout his house since I'm still soaking wet. "C'mon you need to get in the shower, you're a baby when you're sick" He laughed, forcing me up the stairs towards the bathroom while my heart fluttered in my chest, wanting to hear more of his laughter until he finally shoved me in the bathroom, "I'll bring you clothes and a towel, then after we can cuddle on my bed." After that I started my relaxing, skin melting hot shower only taking about ten minutes since the idea of cuddling with my lover was all to tempting. So when I stepped out the bathroom, dressed in grey sweatpants and a T-shirt I looked around the room for the middle blocker, sighing in defeat when I couldn't find him and simply sat at the edge of his bed.

I laid the towel on my head, not caring for the little water droplets that hit my cheek, slowly sliding down to my neck as I looked at the floor.

"He deserves better than you! No one could even bother loving you! He's probably just a whore for your cock!"

My mothers words rang through my head as tears slowly gathered in my eyes, blurring my vision almost immediately. I always wondered why she'd bring Kuroo into our fights, telling me constantly that he'd be better off fucking a pretty girl then being a whore for a guy like me. I had never been so angry at her, I never cared for when she'd insult me but insulting Kuroo was out of the question, it was immediately after she shouted the word that I threw my phone behind me, shattering its screen and putting a hole in the wall. I hated fighting with her, knowing she's just pissed that dad wouldn't give her a good fuck anymore simply because he found his co-worker much more interesting.

Tears slowly flooded from my eyes as I let out a choked sob, resting my elbows on my knees as my head hung low, feeling my body tremble and my chest ache. My breath caught in my throat when slim fingers slid under my chin, pulling my head up so I could look into that gorgeous hazel I fell in love with many years ago. "It'll be okay [Y/n], I'm here" He whispered out, the soft tone was something I hadn't heard much of, but was calmed by nonetheless, my hand reached out, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him towards me, a pleading look in my eye begging for him to climb into my lap which surprised him greatly. Never once in our relationship have I initiated anything that involved physical contact, hell I couldn't even utter the words 'I love you' because every time I tried my mothers words would weigh me down.

However Kuroo still gladly slipped into my lap, moving his arms to rest on my shoulders while mine wrapped around his waist securely, burying my face into the crook of his neck, simply wanting the touch of my lover against me. The feeling of Kuroos fingers running through my hair slowly calms my painful sobs, turning them into quiet sniffles, taking a deep breath of his scent that I craved for everytime he was away. My hands stayed on the small of his back, pulling away from the hug just enough so I could rest my forehead against his, brushing our noses together softly as I stared into his eyes that looked torn from my own broken gaze. "Sometimes I think my mother is right, I truly believe I don't deserve you, you've always been there for me no matter what and what have I ever done in return? She makes me feel like I'm just dead weight to you, and honestly most the time I believe it."

Before he could interrupt I brought my hand to his cheek, brushing my thumb along his cheekbone in order to cut him off, "You always stuck to me though, even when so many people threw themselves at you, people that could've been so much better for you, you still chose me, an emotional broken wreak of a man." He stayed silent as I talked, biting his lower lip with a twinge of something hidden behind those pools of hazel, watching me intently when my gaze shifted towards his lips, moving my hand so that my thumb could pull his lower lip from his teeth.

"But god damn you manage to make me feel so fucking special" I whispered out, feeling his grip on my hair tighten by a fraction as I captured his lips with my own, loving how surprisingly soft they felt against my own, but the kiss ended as soon as it started, even though I couldn't bring myself to pull away to much. "I want to be with you for as long as you'll let me, cause fuck Tetsurou I love you to much to let you go" I mumbled against his lips, looking into his half lidded eye's that brightened with so much happiness they literally teared up, and being anxiety filled I thought I had made him upset for a moment, but that thought quickly left when he smashed his lips against mine with so much force that I fell against his bed.

He had the biggest smile I've ever seen as he pressed his palms against my chest, looking down at me with a loving look I happily returned, smiling back at the bed headed male, "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear that! God I love you, you idiot!" He laughed, leaning down to press a, this time, soft kiss against my lips.

"I love you too Testu."

#kuroo testuro #kuroo x male reader #x male reader #x seme male reader #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#kuroo tetsuro x you

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blushingwithafever · 4 years

Note

hi friend!! i'm here with a prompt!! i was thinking--what if, during the month that they were out of the institute after the worm incident, jon's wounds get infected? possibly he calls tim because he's like "oh SHIT if i feel this bad i someone has to check on tim" and tim, who is healing and healthy, has to go get them and help out? :)

Thank you for the prompt friend!! 💙💙

It’s a common fact that Jon doesn’t take proper care of himself. The man has absolutely zero self preservation skills, everyone that’s had the pleasure, or displeasure in some cases, to get to know him quickly found that out.

He’ll do exactly the bare minimum of what is absolutely necessary and just push through the rest of whatever he’s dealing with. It’s a bad habit that he adopted when he was under the, so called, care of his grandmother. In her exact words— It doesn’t matter how rubbish you feel, keep it to yourself.

So he does.

And continues to do, well into his adult life.

He’s barely moved from his spot on the couch in days, even with the high tolerance for pain he thinks he has— every small movement tugs at his wounds and leaves him breathing through gritted teeth. The ‘mandatory leave’ he’d been forced to take seeming like a spectacular idea after realizing he really needed it to recover.

It’s hardly been a week, at least he thinks, he’s been losing track of time since then, since Prentiss attacked the Institute and about 4 days since he’d been to A&E with Tim for the damage they both sustained.

Tim ended up needing a sling for his shoulder, and while his injuries weren’t pretty, at least they weren’t as severe and permanent as Jon’s were. Jon was given crutches and the possibility of needing the use of a cane later on after his hip and thigh healed as much as they could on their own. He hadn’t needed a surgery, which was good, but the doctor said that the damage was deep enough, down into the bone at some parts, to leave him with chronic pain and some limited mobility.

The overall feeling of malaise and residual pain was to be expected, of course, but it was getting to the point that it was bothering him enough to reach for another one of his prescribed painkillers. He shakes two pills out, swallowing them dry even though there’s an untouched bottle of water on the coffee table, and waits for the drowsiness to nestle itself behind his eyes when the meds kick in.

He dozes off, against his own volition at first, head blissfully fuzzy and pain barely above a whisper anymore for the time being. It’s not the best sleep of his life but it’s sleep nonetheless, and he could use as much as he could get.

A dull ache pulls him slowly away from the dark embrace of sleep. He shifts, ever so slightly, in a feeble attempt to find a more comfortable spot to chase the darkness before it has the chance to fully recede. He doesn’t want to wake up yet, he really doesn’t, dreads it even, but his plan is dashed when pain flashes white, hot, and blinding from his hip down to the knee. His eyes shoot open, breath coming out heavy and labored through a series of low groans on the exhales, and mind going blank from it all as he rides it out. It doesn’t fade. But it becomes manageable, to an extent, as long as he stays still. Very still.

He knows he should have changed the bandages, or at least checked on how the holes were healing, sooner, probably days ago by now, but he hadn’t.

Instead, he’d let them fester.

A shiver rips through his frame as he gradually hitches up the oversized shirt, grimacing as it clings uncomfortably to his skin, to take a look at the bandages by his hip. He runs cautious fingers lightly over the dressing, not careful enough, though, to avoid hitting a tender spot. Even with a featherlight touch, it’s enough to have him pull his hand away like he’d been burned. The wrappings suddenly feel too tight, claustrophobic almost, like they’re aggravating the swollen wounds more than helping them. He doesn’t dare touch it again, can’t bring himself to peel it off either. He doesn’t think about trying it again until—

Oh god.

Tim.

If he felt this bad off, Tim had to feel the same.

He should call him, check in, make sure he’s okay.

Because Jon certainly isn’t.

He grabs for his phone, suddenly aware of the heaviness in the pocket of his sweatpants, and squints passed the brightness to scroll through his minimal contact list.

He notices that he’s panting as the phone rings, gasping, almost, and tries to get his breath evened out before Tim answers, swallowing air reflexively in an attempt to slow it.

He nearly chokes when Tim answers in a tick with an upbeat “What’s up, boss?”

“Ah, Tim. I mean, hello, um, I was just—” Jon forces a slow breath out, inhales sharply, and tries again, “How are you?”

“Awwww, boss, didn’t think you’d care so much about little ol’ me.” Tim teases, slightly unnerved when he doesn’t hear an immediate scoff on the other end of the line. “But, I’m doin’ alright. A bit sore, I guess, but I can’t complain. How are you holding up?”

“I’m, I—” Jon swallows again, gripping his phone tighter, “I don’t know.”

“Jon?”

“There’s—it’s— I cant.” Jon’s head feels fuzzy again, but not in the way the meds make it feel. It’s not good. He knows that. Ever the articulate man, he expresses his distress, “Bad.”

Jon continues rambling on the other side of the line, voice tired, strained, and a bit confused the longer he goes on, like he’s lost his train of thought or forgotten what he was calling to say. If Jon was in his right state of mind, he’d have been embarrassed by the way his words were starting to slur together.

“Woah, woah, hey, Jon, slow down for a sec—” Tim puts a hand out in a placating gesture, not even thinking about how Jon can’t even see it.

It’s concerning how incoherent Jon sounds.

No.

It’s Terrifying.

“Alright that’s it, I’m coming over. Do you still keep a key under the mat?”

“Mm’yeah.”

“Good. I’ll be there in 10.”

Tim hasn’t heard Jon sound this bad since he was absolutely delirious and out of his mind with fever a few years back, when they were in research together. Jon had come down hard with the flu and felt bad about having to call out when they were already so understaffed as is. Tim, like the good friend he was, had made the executive decision for Jon and took him back to his flat.

It was just like that time. Tim smiles sadly.

He hails a cab, forgoing the idea of driving his car for the benefit of his healing shoulder, and makes his way to his boss’s flat.

Requests for tma and good omens are open!

#plz send in prompts!#I’m slow at writing since work leaves me exhausted #but I get to them! 💙💙#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #jon sims #tim stoker #jon tma #tim tma #whump #whump fic #h/c #hurt/comfort #bazz types

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inkandpen22 · 3 years

Text

Otherworldly Kings and Queens (10/10) Caspian Version

Pairing: Prince Caspian x Female!Reader/ Peter Pevensie x Female!Reader

Warnings: emotional ending but happy!

Word Count: 2.6k

Part Summary: As the Pevensies time in Narnia comes to an end, Y/N must decide. There isn’t just one question that needs to be answered... who will Y/N pick? Will Y/N really consider staying in Narnia?

A/N: And with that one of my first series comes to an end... it’s both exciting yet sad at the same time as I’ve had so much fun writing it. Thank you to everyone who’s followed the series! I appreciate you so much! Be warned, you bet I cried a little writing this! It’s so bitter-sweet!

Masterlist

Peter slips his hand from mine and steps forward. "We'll go," he volunteers us.

"We Edmund frowns, sharing my expression.

"Wait, what?" I express rather rashly.

"Come on. Our time's up," Peter tells me solemnly, but an ounce of hope lingers in his tone. "After all... we're not really needed here anymore," he determines while approaching Caspian to offer him his sword.

"I will look after it until you return," Caspian assures Peter confidently.

"I'm afraid that's just it," Susan interjects beside me. "We're not coming back."

"We're not?" Lucy pouts with concern.

"You two are," Peter predicts, glancing between Aslan and his youngest sister. "At least, I think he means you two."

"But why?" Lucy struggles to comprehend the purpose behind this news, as do I. "Did they do something wrong?"

Though, frankly, I'm finding it hard to swallow this harsh pill. But all things have their time.

"It's all right, Lu," Peter tries to ease Lucy's mind as he takes her hand gently. "It's not how I thought it would be...but it's all right."

Peter directs his attention to me and holds out his free hand for me to take. "One day you'll see, too. Come on."

"Your course is not as clear-cut as theirs," Aslan states with uncertainty. "You still have much to learn from here, as do Edmund and Lucy. Going back means one day, you will return, as will they."

"So I am to go back," I hope to clarify.

All I want is an answer, to know my path.

"Returning to your world will bring you back here someday, yes, that is a course you may take," Aslan nods calmly.

"I'm glad I came," I tell Caspian whole-heartedly.

"I wish we had more time together," the prince sighs, taking my hands in his.

His hands are warm. Mine are always cold. I never noticed that before now. I'll miss that.

"I'm not entirely sure I belong here," I confess timidly, still unsure of my thoughts and Aslan's advice.

"Why not?" Caspian frowns as if my words are nonsense.

"I’m not of this world and if the Pevensies are 1,300 years older than you so am I," I shrug with a hint of a smile as I comprehend how old I am.

I'm not a Narnian or a monarch of Narnia. Aslan said I was meant to come here with the Pevensies, but our time is up and I've yet to find this purpose he speaks so much about.

Peter meets me halfway and wraps an arm around my waist, leading me toward the tree trunk. The Pevenesies begin toward the tree as well, ready to go on.

"It’ll be okay," Peter whispers in my ear as he brings me into his side.

I feel safe here with him. Peter is home for me. For years, he's been my rock, my strength. Through the war, losing my dad, through all the bad, Peter has been my guiding light.

He continues to comfort me. "Everything will be as if we-"

"Peter, no wait... " I shake my head as my steps come to a halt.

It takes a second for Peter to react. He comes to a halt a few steps ahead of me. Turning over his shoulder, he gives me a confused look.

"I can’t go back," I voice, but my volume is weak.

"What do you mean?" He frowns.

"I... I think I’m still needed here..." I stammer with uncertainty. "At least... At least that’s what I think Aslan means. He speaks like a fortune teller and it’s confusing!"

Peter switches his now crossed expression from me to the lion. "Aslan, is that true?"

"Y/N’s future is not set in stone as your four’s is in history. She has known that she has to decide her course of action for some time. The clock is dwindling," Aslan explains steadily.

Lucy steps forward from behind Peter. "You mean you have to stay here?"

"It means I have a choice, staying here or coming again later. I’m assuming the next time will be with you and Edmund. Either way, I’m needed here. I just know it." I try to explain, but how do I explain a feeling?

"But why?" Lucy pouts.

"I don’t know," I struggle to say as my eyes begin to well up.

"I do," Peter voices.

"What?" I mutter.

I press my lips together as my throat becomes strained from holding back tears. "Peter I- "

"It’s okay," he assures me as his hand glides up to cup my cheek. "Everything is as it should be."

"If this is how it should be, why does it hurt so much?" I mutter, my tone shaky with emotion.

"We mustn’t think like that. One day we'll be together again!" Peter thinks optimistically.

"I love you," I cry.

Peter grins at my words, a faint and joyful chuckle escapes between his teeth. "And I’ve always loved you, perhaps I always will. We’ll never lose that, even across worlds."

Now that our time has officially run out, I say my goodbyes to each of the Pevensies. I'm not just saying goodbye to Peter's siblings, each of them has become family to me. Lucy and Susan cry with me as the three of us hug each other. Edmund does his best not to show emotion, but I can see behind his stone hard expression that he's holding back. His tight embrace is enough evidence as well.

"Someday," I nod, as though I'm making a promise that one day we'll see each other again.

He nods, agreeing to the vow. "Someday."

"I've got you," he assures. "It’ll be okay."

I know..." I swallow hard, my face becomes blank other than the tears falling down my cheeks. "But for right now it's agony."

"This too shall pass. You did right by your heart today, be proud," Aslan encourages.

I glance toward the lion, "so I was right?"

"You were never wrong," he smiles.

"I can’t believe you stayed," Caspian confesses beside me.

I look at the boy with a sigh of relief. "I can't either, but it feels right," I smile softly.

Despite everything, the painful goodbye, the uncertainty, I know I'm where I'm meant to be now. I couldn't leave. I wasn't sure until Peter was guiding me to the tree. I would've done anything to stay.

"Now we have all the time in the world!" Caspian gleams, over the moon.

Seeing him so happy eases my emotions. He's right, now we have all we could ever need, more time.

"That’s all I ever wanted," I grin.

His lips part as his eyes scan my face. Gently, his hand brushes across my cheek, and I lean into his touch as my eyes fall shut. Now, when I close my eyes and envision the riverbank, he's there beside me. It was him all this time.

"Y/N? My Love," he mutters.

"Hm?" I hum contently as my eyes flicker open to meet his jet-black ones.

"Marry me," he states with certainty and determination.

Bewildered, my eyes widen. Marry him?! Be...Become Queen of Narnia?!

A sea of gasps and murmuring travel across the crowd. I shift my eyes to them, analyzing various faces. Then, I glance at Aslan. The lion narrows his eyes at me as he wears a soft smile. He wants me to make this decision for myself. He's certain I make it on my own. His words repeat in my mind, 'you were never wrong.' Is this the purpose he speaks of? Is this why I was called here?

Destiny is a funny thing.

Blinking rapidly, I inhale sharply and turn my attention back to Caspian who awaits my answer eagerly. He smiles brightly with raised brows. Our eyes meet and I decide instantly, perhaps I already knew my decision.

"Yes,” I answer without a moment’s hesitation.

Caspian releases a sigh of relief, his grin never fading. In a moment of impulse, I extend my neck and bring my lips to his. My fingers glide to the back of his neck, bringing him in closer. He deepens the kiss as he cups my face urgently. I smile into the kiss and he does the same, both of us over the moon.

Finally, we have time, something we thought we’d never have. Now, we have forever.

_________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @blackbirddaredevil23 @rangergranger11 @hyperactiveravenclaw @whiskeywinter89 @i-hav-no-life

#narnia #narnia imagine #prince capsian x reader #caspian x reader #prince caspian #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #susan pevensie #peter #lucy pevensie

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alreadyblondenow · 4 years

Text

King Taeyong | 3

Taeyong x ballerina!reader // SMUT, FLUFF, ANGST, fantasy!au Summary: You welcome back Taeyong in your life after he left you for almost a year. Maybe its because your feelings never left in the first place. Now that he’s back, he’s more transparent and honest with you. Promises over promises, is he going to keep his promises this time? Word count: 5k Warnings: Unprotected sex, swearing, mentions of other idols, pairing of other idols but not too much, death of someone Note: -The fantasy part is already here. I tried to keep it short and simple, didn’t want to overdo it. -Imagine a Narnia kingdom setting hihi Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Seeing Taeyong again after for so long was something you’re not looking forward to happen. Even though you imagined him coming back to you, now that its real you’re like a statue. You have million things to say to him but non came out in your mouth. You wanted to yell at him, curse at him but you can’t. It’s been a long time but what you feel for him never left.

You made coffee for the both of you still trying to escape the gaze from Taeyong’s eyes. Those beautiful eyes that will make you fall in love with him again any second. Those beautiful eyes you used to lock eyes with while he’s making love with you.

“Y/n, I’m sorry” he broke the silence but his voice was almost a whisper. It made your heart sink, suddenly you’re hurt again. Tears falling because you don’t know what he’s sorry for. Are you sorry because you went away? Are you sorry because you’re breaking up with me?

“But can you please, come with me?” he added. You were so confused because you thought he’s here for closure. “Baby please, just please. I’ll explain later. ” the pet name gave you shivers, hearing him call you with fondness again makes your heart warm. Out of respect and curiosity, you grabbed any coat you could find. Putting the cupcakes to the fridge, and leaving a note to Jaehyun, ‘I went out with Taeyong.’

Seeing Taeyong with his two bodyguards Jungwoo and Lucas is something normal, but seeing more than two bodyguards in front of your apartment sure is not. You try to count them in mind and they were at least eighteen. Why does Taeyong has eighteen bodyguards today?

His bodyguards addressed him as “Your highness,” as if he’s really a king or someone from a royal family. “The car is at the back of the building” a man in black suit informed Taeyong without any expression. Just a stern look in Taeyong’s eyes. What is happening. Is this some kind of joke.

All is settled inside the car and you sit as far from him crossing your arms and biting your lip from time to time. He came closer to you touching your knee with full bravery but you moved it away. “I promise all will make sense later” he said, keeping his hands to himself not trying to touch you again. Everything thats happening right now looks like a joke to you, some sick prank.

“I missed you. so much” he started talking again, annoying you with his sweet gestures. You still gave him the silent treatment that he deserves but deep inside you wanted him to know how much you missed him too. And that you waited for so long but he never came back.

Finally, the car stopped. When Taeyong opened the door, the light coming from the outside was weirdly different from your perspective. You got out of the car still squinting trying to recognise where on Earth did he take you.

Everywhere you look seems so foreign in your eyes, you’re positive that you’re not in your own country. Impossible, you cant believe what you’re seeing right now. Is this a dream? A castle is right in front of you, one that looks like it came from a storybook. Tall, wide and overwhelming for your eyes but nonetheless it welcomes you. Seeing people bow before Taeyong, convinced you that this might be a dream, or a nightmare because Taeyong is in it.

This cant be real.

When the two of you are finally alone in his so called office... in his kingdom, you wanted to wake up. Thinking about opening your eyes over and over again, forcing yourself to wake up. Seeing Taeyong in a dream hurts so bad it makes your heart heavy, you cant take it anymore.

“you’re not dreaming” Taeyong surprised you with a kiss being brave again. You slapped him in the face, hard. Your hand burns from the slap “it’s hurts right?” Taeyong asked, “That means you’re not dreaming”

No, it cant be. Taeyong? A king?

Everything that’s happening right now is like a big pill that’s hard to swallow. The moment you saw Taeyong on your doorstep, asking you to come with him, his kiss, the castle, is all too much and hard to believe. You asked Taeyong again what is this place but you get the same answer, “My kingdom.”

“Oh please Taeyong, not that bullshit again” you said hard and stern. He rolls his sleeves and let out a heavy sigh. He’s not forcing you to believe him but he wants you to believe on every word he’s about to tell you now. He clears his throat, and made you sit on the couch with him.

“I was away for a friend’s wedding. He’s a good friend of mine and I couldn’t miss his wedding” he breaths in and exhales sharply, “the wedding was perfect and everyone was having a good time, until… someone shot the groom, my friend, Taemin, right before my eyes. His wife... died too” his steady voice is not so steady now, you see his hands shaking while telling you more of what happened and to be honest you dont know if you should believe it.

“It was a fucking massacre we should’ve known better. Johnny lost his girlfriend too” he reaches for your hand and smiled when you didn’t nudge. “I was thankful… Really thankful that you were far from me during that time. Many people died that night. A lot of kingdoms right now are facing big problems. My kingdom needed me y/n, thats why I couldnt go back to you.”

Feeling his touch again made you want to wake up more. Praying that you really wanted to open your eyes now. Too much, everything about this dream is too much. “Doyoung, Johnny and Yuta are now looking for the last assassin, and it’s in your world. We figured, its there to hurt me, to kill you” there was a moment of silence, he came closer to you, his lips touched yours again. You didn’t slapped him this time. His soft lips made you want to stay in this dream more, if this is a dream might as well drown in it.

You hugged him tight, you both fell on the floor with a loud thud. He chuckled but you see tears in his eyes, “look babe were on the floor again” you dried the tears on his eyes with your thumb and laughed with him. Suddenly happiness hits you like a truck again just like the day you met Taeyong for the first time. “Can I kiss you again?” this time its you who initiated the kiss, you kissed him deeply with love.

He asked you to changed your clothes so people in his kingdom wont think your clothes are weird. The maids picked a simple beige garden dress for you though It was kind of long for your liking but it was surprisingly lightweight and beautiful. In other words, you looked like a princess. Get it together y/n, you’re a ballerina for goodness sakes think of it as a costume.

The place looks exactly how fairytales described it. High ceilings painted with clouds and angels, open roof for the everyone to admire the beautiful sky, fresh breeze, people wearing fancy dresses, knights guarding every corner of the palace and Taeyong....looking like a prince fresh out of a story book. You wait at the big balcony watching the sun set in front of you almost looking like a painting. “Im sure you have a lot of questions” Taeyong interrupted your thoughts.

You scoffed, “Lee Taeyong, you have no idea”

“Im sure I can answer them all. Fire away”

“Well, you can start by telling me the truth and tell me stuff I need to know. Parents? Siblings? ....Allergies?” You shook your head, “personal stuff Taeyong”

He’s calm expression melts your heart, he’s always like that. You felt him kiss your exposed shoulders his arms encircled on your waist. “I’m still your Taeyong. Just add the word king” he let out a soft chuckle but you gave him a look telling him you’re serious. “Okay, tiger. chill” he hugged you tighter letting his warm breath hit the shell of your ear, “I lost my parents when I was 8 from the same assassins that killed my friend Taemin. I have a sister but she’s in your world living peacefully without any memory of this world. I dont have any allergies” he turned you around so you’re facing him, he missed being this close to you. He doesn’t say it but he’s so turned on right now, his gaze never leaving yours.

“In your world, you call my world... a fairytale. There is magic lurking in this world but nothing too crazy don’t worry. No harry potter type of situation.” He winks.

“I want you to meet someone very important to me, one of these days I’ll bring you to her. She’s someone special and she helped me shaped my life and with my duties as king” you nod silently.

Taeyong secretly worries about you, to be honest he worries for you and your mental state while living with him here in his kingdom. Is it really okay with you? Do you still see him as the Lee Taeyong as your number one fan and not as the highest king in this world?

“Y/n.. please be honest with with me. Dont hide what you really feel right now.”

“Baby. You were gone for almost a year, it was a lonely time for me. I appreciate your effort for explaining everything even though its too much. I’ll get there. I hope you understand that.” he nods changing the subject and showering your face with kisses.

“How are you?” Taeyong asked sweetly like how he usually do.

You let out a small laugh, and told him everything he missed. That you were devastated, sad and lonely when he was gone and that he missed the opportunity of meeting your parents during Christmas eve. “Im sorry. Im sorry for not being normal enough to make you happy and provide normal stuff-“

“Dont say that” you cut him off, “You’re more than enough for me Taeyong. Dont say stuff like that” he’s still guilty but you comfort him nonetheless you never want to feel sad anymore. Not now that you’re in each others arms again.

Taeyong prepared dinner for the both of you while you’re out roaming the castle grounds. He made a picnic style dinner setup at the balcony of his chambers making you comfortable on your first night here in his kingdom. “Yum!” you let out a groan out of excitement and told him you missed his cooking.

“You know, I planned to have my own bakery. I already took care of the loan and the bank will help me make my dreams come true” you sounded really excited while telling him what you’ve been up to while he was away. He was happy that you had everything under control and you made the planning all by yourself. “Actually I could help you out. Forget about the bank, I can help you. Let’s find a decent place for your bakery when we get back” Of course your super rich boyfriend will help you out because he loves you so much.

You knew Taeyong loves seeing you do what you love, and you know Taeyong offered help because this is his way of taking part in your life. Again. And you love him more for it. “Yeah. Lets do that” you accepted his offer with a smile, feeding him a potato chip with a mouthful of guac. Just how he liked it. “How about you Taeyongie, whats new?” you made him think hard. “Hmmm. Well, do you accept interns?” You laughed hard and loud your giggles echoed in his room.

“What Im serious! I can taste everything you make, clean tables, anything you like me to do” There’s the Taeyong that you know. The simple man with a great sense of humour that you fell in love with. Now that you’re talking about dreams, you confidently told him about the life you wanted to build with him when all this is over, telling him you cant wait to go back and be with him again.

“If you’re going to marry me someday. I want a baby girl... now, I know you need a prince as an heir....” Taeyong laughed so loud enough for the whole castle to hear. Brave of you to tell him that you want kids in the future.

“But I want to have my own mini me. And maybe if we get lucky, you can have your own mini you” you continued and Taeyong is still laughing.

“I’ll help you buy our house when I save enough from the bakery. We will make love from sun up until sun down. Never ending happy mornings with you. Tie my hair until we grow old and everything in between, I just want to be with you until I die” Even though it made Taeyong laugh so hard, he can’t help but have butterflies in his stomach the whole time you were talking. He wanted the same thing too.

“I promise. We will have a normal life.” he kissed you to seal his promise.

After dinner you took a shower in Taeyong’s garden bathroom. Never getting used to what this castle can do, it really surprised you how a bathroom can be so magical. Taeyong’s bathroom smells like fresh flowers everywhere, maybe thats why Taeyong smells good all the time. It feels good to be in Taeyong’s comfortable clothes again. He gave you his favorite sweater and a pair of comfortable sweatpants. You only wore the sweater and underwear, not bothering to wear sweatpants.

As you got out of the bathroom you see Taeyong laying in bed with a book on his hand, topless and flashing his wide broad shoulders. You remember nights at your apartment when he waits for you in bed while he’s playing games on his phone. He looks so handsome. You crawl towards him feeling his soft bed and snuggles beside him comfortably. “Finally. Some alone time with you” he kisses you softly, carefully nibbling your neck and slowly tugging the sweater that he gave you as if he’s testing waters.

You were impatient so you removed it already showing off your breast to him. He gently kisses your body marking it like how he used to. His touch and kisses are still the same you thought. Oh how you missed this feeling. You crave for Taeyong and he can see that you’re eager “Slow down baby. We have all night” he says while drawing small circles on your thigh. It makes you crazy how he’s taking time with you and how he slowly devours your skin while you crave for him entirely.

He quickly switched positions with you, now kissing your lips slowly going down to face your pussy. Gently spreading your legs in front of him, you let out a gasp and a choked moan when Taeyong blows cold air at your slit, making you shiver. He smiles at you before he finally licks your pussy, slow and deep. His tongue starts from the bottom slowly goes up to your clit and gently kiss it. Catching your first orgasm for the night, Taeyong overstimulates you while you ride your high. Your moans are load and sharp he cant help but smirk and feel proud of his work.

“Baby are you planning to wake up the whole castle?” leaving wet kisses on your left breast and bites your nipple.

“Babe just fuck me already” you beg, feeling his hands kneading your breast, playing with your nipples with his thumb. You’re so focused on what he’s doing with your breast, you didn’t notice he’s spreading your legs wide for him preparing you before he finally fucks you. Without warning he inserts two fingers already to stretched your cunt. You yelped and tried to grasp anything from bed, you feel like your energy was slowly fading until you surrender in his touch. He chuckled.

This is not funny Taeyong. “Lee Taeyong im almost the-“ you warn him but he lets you cum on his fingers. You whisper sweet words to him expressing how much you missed him and it made the sexual tension more intense. Lining his cock on your pussy, coating it with your essence and slowly he gets deeper and deeper inside you. It feels so good. He fucks in slow pace, taking his time before going faster. You let out a string of moans, encircling your arms on his neck feeling his back muscles.

Slow, fast, deep and sharp thrust. He’s taking his time, fighting his urge to cum before you. Little did he know you cant take it anymore, you’ve cum so many times when he was fucking you slow. You tried pushing him away but you’re too weak. Taeyong fucked you again and again until you don’t respond to him and he let’s you sleep. He took care of you before joining you, made sure you’re clean. “I love you y/n” he whispers before sleeping beside you.

Taeyong slept like a baby beside you. It was his first time getting a good sleep from months of longing you. Telling himself he will never let anything come between the two of you ever again.

And it went on like this for days, weeks, even months while you’re stay in his kingdom. You became used to the castle grounds already, roaming around as if you’ve live there for a long time. On your way to Taeyong’s office, you see Taeyong with a beautiful woman almost your age wearing a beautiful dress, she has gorgeous long straight blonde hair and her skin is as fair as Taeyong’s. You got jealous for a second but maybe he’s Taeyong’s cousin or whatever.

Taeyong saw you and quickly introduced you to the beautiful princess in front of you.

“Y/n, this is Sorn. My fiancé”

Your what Lee Taeyong?

You gave him a look. A look thats saying you’re confused, mad and at the same time you want to punch him. Then you remembered the time when Jaehyun introduced himself as your future husband, you think this is his way of getting even. But he wasn’t kidding at all.

“Arranged marriage when we were both still young. I hope you understand” the princess speaks and reached out a hand full of sparkling rings. You wonder which ring Taeyong gave her. You didnt have a choice but to be nice.

Taeyong and Sorn are now talking inside his office about some royalty shit you thought and you can’t help but sulk. Yuta noticed that you’re bothered by the thought of Taeyong having a fiancé, hoping he could help you feel better he explains the situation further.

“Don’t worry y/n, it’s only for formality. This royalty shit is crazy and Taeyong needs a “queen” to rule here so he can be with you from time to time in your world” you thought that the idea was fucked up. “What was he thinking?” You almost shout but Yuta laughs at you. “I told you. This royalty shit is crazy. A lot of sacrifices needs to be done”

“I love her y/n” Yuta finally confess. “To protect this world. To protect my kingdom, I have to let go of Sorn” your heart aches for what Yuta just told you. How can the world of royalties can be so cruel to good people?

Yuta and Sorn were young and in love for as long as they can remember. So deeply in love, that they plan to help each other’s kingdoms by marriage someday. But Sorn’s family faced problems and they needed help immediately, so the royal court’s decision is to arrange her for marriage. The royal court is so obsessed with finding Taeyong a queen and they saw Sorn as a good opportunity. “Duty before self” Yuta explained.

“Why didn’t you volunteer your kingdom? Is that too selfish?” You asked, trying not to sound rude.

“My kingdom is not that rich to solve her kingdom’s money problems. Thats why I’ve been saving money in your world and be as rich as possible. That’s how I help my father with being king for now “

You cant believe this tragic love story that you’re hearing from Yuta. Just the thought of it makes you scared, that even though two people deeply love each other if fate is not in their favor, you can’t do something about it. Feeling bad about oversharing his feelings, Yuta told you not to worry, for Taeyong loves you so much and his kingdom equally.

You didn’t notice that you fell asleep while waiting for Taeyong to join you in bed. You felt soft kisses on your cheek, Taeyong waking you up in the middle of the night. Softly stroking your hair telling you to shush and follow him. Guiding you as you follow him to dark places that you’re not familiar with, you finally arrived to where he’s taking you.

You squint a little, seeing candles lit up, different flowers scattered on the floor, you’ve guessed you’re walking on an aisle with Taeyong. Doyoung, Yuta, Johnny and....a priest is waiting at the end of the aisle. Gasping as you realised, you’re about to get married.

“I was actually going to ask you to marry me over dinner tonight but-“ you cut him off and kissed him. “I’ll marry you.” You sad with a smile and hugged him tight. Crying tears of joy already.

You both proceed to this secret wedding that he organised. It was simple, just like you’ve always wanted. Genuine like him and sincere like his love. Taeyong promised to give you a proper wedding when you both get back to your world, but you told him you wouldn’t trade this wedding for anything.

Doyoung, Yuta and Johnny are happy for the both of you. They’ve seen Taeyong suffer enough without you and they all think that you both deserve to be happy. The three princes congratulates the both of you and telling them they’re more than happy seeing their Taeyongie marry happily someone he loves.

“Just dont be too loud fucking tonight or the castle will know somethings up” Johnny jokes making Taeyong punch him on his arm.

You spend your honeymoon enjoying the cold breeze around the palace. Sitting on the grass while watching how the castle turn yellow because of the soft sunrise. Taeyong got you beautiful flowers from his garden, tying it in a perfect knot making a small bouquet. He told you that the last assassin is dead and finally you can go back to the human world.

Just like the sunrise, you watch Taeyong be happy beside you. Remembering every detail of this beautiful moment. He noticed you were staring at him for a while now and he cant help but make you laugh by showing his wedding ring. Reminding you that he’s your husband from now on. Taeyong completely changed your life.

It was almost afternoon when you finally wake up from your sleep and still couldn’t believe that you’re married to this handsome guy kissing you. For the second time, Lee Taeyong is waking you up from your beautiful sleep by kissing you until you acknowledge him. “Lee Taeyong what do you want?” You asked him forcing yourself to open your eyes.

“Good morning... wife” and that alone made you smile. Taeyong thought your smile was so bright but it never hurts his eyes.

“I need you to meet someone important today” he’s now kissing your neck. Seriously this guy. “Last three days before you leave this kingdom by the way” he chuckled. “Everything will go back to normal once we go back. I promise.” He gave you one good kiss before leaving to prepare for breakfast.

He told you that you’re meeting the kingdom’s witch, a nice witch who helped him to be the king that he is. “Ruby is like my secret weapon. She warns me and gives me knowledge with all the decisions that I make for the kingdom.”

Ruby is a witch that tells Taeyong what the future holds for his kingdom. She never tells what will happen entirely. She didn’t want to ruin the natural order of the universe, she can only warn his king and give him choices to make good decisions.

When you arrived at where you believed Ruby lives, a pond inside a cave, you thought that maybe Ruby likes fishing. You peeked at how deep the pond is and you see coins and, random things under the water that are all solid gold.

“Anything you throw in this pond turns into solid gold” he winks after he explains.

You saw the water shine as Ruby comes out of the pond with all her glory turn into this gorgeous human in front of you. From being a mermaid with golden fishtail. A mermaid witch, you thought. And she is naked in front of your husband with only her golden hair covering her boobs. Wow.

“Y/n, this is Ruby.” Taeyong broke the silence. When Ruby took a step further out from the water, she turned in a much decent human, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you y/n. Congratulations.” She smiled sweetly to you.

Ruby was nice to you and she offered to read your future. You didn’t want Ruby to show you your future to be honest, but you did it for Taeyong. She asked for your hand, holding it while she looks directly in your eyes. You saw what she saw. And there’s no need to tell Taeyong about it. You both giggle like little girls after you both saw your future, leaving Taeyong really curious.

In the future that Ruby showed you, you will have a little girl. And you will live like how he always promised for the both of you. Its pure happiness. “Thank you Ruby. It really means a lot” you told her with sincerity.

But little did you know, Ruby just showed you the future that you wanted to see. Not showing you your true future. She asked to speak to Taeyong privately and you respectfully left them talking.

Ruby did the same thing to Taeyong, but without the filter. She showed Taeyong the challenges and pain he will put you through if he continue this married life with you. “Your highness, Im afraid you’re not going to be the father of the child” Ruby showed Taeyong what you saw in her eyes earlier. It made him smile but he felt a pang of pain at the same time.

“Don’t get me wrong your highness, the child will come from you. But you will not be present as her father in her life.” Taeyong was confused. Ruby continued showing him more, and his world crashed. His heart feels heavy, he feels broken than ever. Taeyong is scared to the bone right now, but he trusts Ruby with his life and he is positive that Ruby wants what’s best for the kingdom and him.

Taeyong saw how his kingdom suffered from a famine while he was away from the kingdom living his life with you in the human world. He will have no other choice but to leave you again for the kingdom needs him. The famine will last for a year, and your pregnancy will not be the healthiest. You will lose the child and it will drive you to killing yourself. He saw how Doyoung told him the news that you passed away and it made him crazy. Taeyong turned into a mad king and the whole kingdom suffered in other words.

“Your highness now I ask of you.... to do the same thing as we did to your sister and prevent everything whats about to happen. We will create a life for y/n, a beautiful life without you in it” Ruby explains with a heavy heart.

Taeyeon. Taeyong’s sister is living well in the human world without any memory of the kingdom. Taeyeon was with their parents when they were killed and the incident traumatised her. To save her from being crazy, they gave her a potion for forgetting everything about the incident, the kingdom, Taeyong, everything.

Taeyong didn’t have much choice. He didn’t want to hurt you and kill yourself that will indeed make him crazy for good. Although its wrong for him to decide on his own, he still agreed to Ruby. He told her all about your dreams, the normal life you long with him, and the bakery you wanted to be successful with.

“I want her - I want her to have a peaceful life when she wakes up. A life without sadness, make sure she’s never alone or lonely. Be sure to never let her give up dancing because she loves her craft so much. Let her explore new things” Taeyong sniffs and continues to instruct Ruby. “She wants a bakery, let it be so successful customers will always buy every masterpiece she bakes. Please let her be with someone who truly loves her the same way I will.”

It really hurts him to pass you on to someone, it breaks his heart thinking of another man having you. “Please let that man be Jaehyun” he could only trust you with Jaehyun. Ruby hands the potion to Taeyong with a heavy heart. “I know you just got married. I’m sorry my king”

Your husband cant look you in the eye right now, but he stayed brave and put the small bottle in his pocket. “I’m still curious on what she showed you babe” Taeyong said, faking a smile. You let out a loud laugh without knowing what he really feels.

“Oh its a secret” you told him with a big mocking smile.

“I love you, y/n” he smiles ever so sweetly before your eyes.

Noticing his beautiful rose scar, and gently stroking it with your thumb. “I love you too, Lee Taeyong.”

#nct-writers #neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct taeyong #nct smut #nct fluff #nct angst #taeyong smut #taeyong fluff #taeyong angst #nct #nct scenarios #nct imagines #fantasy au

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smol-and-grumpy · 5 years

Text

Something Just Like This - CH09

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: We’re still at slow burning and mutual pining, guys!

WC: 4046

SERIES MASTERLIST

When she hears the shower being turned off, Y/N sits upright and inches closer to the edge of the bed with the full intention to get up, but instead, she stays there unable to move without feeling nauseous. Everything seems to be spinning and she’s a minute away from running into the bathroom to throw up.

Honestly, she wouldn’t even care if Dean wasn’t finished. Kind of hopes that he didn’t lock the door because she really doesn’t know how long she can hold it in. She figures that going in and throwing up into the toilet while he’s still showering is still better than puking right here in his bedroom.

Oh god , his bedroom.

They are in his bedroom, aren’t they? That’s his place?

Slowly, something comes back...

Shit! Oh god…

She threw up last night too, didn’t she? And Dean was there to witness.

Great. Just fucking great. Fun-fucking-tastic!

Her eyes find a dot on the hardwood flooring. She tries to concentrate by staring at it and willing her head to stop spinning, and thankfully, it works.

The bathroom door opens just a moment later. She can tell by the damp air that surrounds her, even if she doesn’t see it. The air is tinted with the smell of fresh soap and shampoo, too. The sweet smell is not really helping in suppressing the feeling of her sickness, though.

“Hey, you’re up,”

It’s a low drawl. The sound rumbles deep, makes the hair on her body stand up and she can’t fight the warm feeling that spreads on her face.

Yep, definitely Dean. He’s the only one who can make her feel this way.

“Yeah, but at what cost,” Y/N tilts her head up a little, wishing she didn’t as she sees him walking out of the bathroom, a towel slung low around his hips. She’s thankful that she’s feeling so sick, thinks that even if she’s blushing, he probably can’t even see it from the pale of her face.

She stares at the floor again, tries to ignore Dean’s damp body with little droplets of water dripping down his chest. Tries to ignore the perky nipples she’s only seen through his shirt until now, and yes, she can confirm, they are indeed perky. Fucking tries to not notice that Dean fucking Winchester has cute little freckles all over.

He laughs a beautiful laugh, throwing his head back and all. She thinks it’s a beautiful sound, warm and deep. And if she wasn’t as hungover, she would be able to enjoy it more.

She stands up — and fails. Has to try a couple more times, her hand fists in the covers for stability. She knows that she’s making a complete fool out of herself, if only she could care more about it, but her state of mind doesn’t even allow that. Win for her, probably.

“You ok?” Dean approaches cautiously, holding his arms out as he speaks, ready to support her if he must, she knows that too. Because Dean is just caring like that, and she hates it a little too, hates that he’s not the textbook mob boss she had hoped he would be.

Y/N doesn’t answer him right away, instead, turns her head back to stare at the dot on the floor, tries to even out her breathing and calm her beating heart at the sight of him in nothing but a fucking towel, “I’m fine,"

Dean throws his hands up in defeat before he crosses them over his broad chest. The very chest she tries hard not to look at. He stands off to the side as if he’s waiting for something. There’s nothing but the stupid towel around his hips and he doesn’t say anything, just stands there with raised eyebrows. And he waits.

Y/N wants to know what he’s waiting for, until she realizes that he’s waiting for her to stand on her own two feet, probably ready to be at her side if she should stumble.

Gah.

She sighs, rolls her eyes, and lets go of the cover to walk to the bathroom on wobbly feet.

Dean grins, one of his hands goes up to rub as his jaw as his gaze follows her to where she’s heading. She hears the scratching sound of his scruff.

“Stop staring,” She lets out, a little annoyed, and he chuckles.

“I’m not doing anything,”

“You’re staring,” She pouts and sends him a look before she ignores him, which, she thinks, it’s a sane thing to do.

She ignores the stupid crooked grin on his face. Ignores the crinkles around his eyes, the wet disheveled hair, the damp fucking body.

He looks so good.

Ugh.

He definitely doesn’t have any business looking that good so fucking early in the morning.

Once she’s in the bathroom, she shuts the door behind her before she takes a look at her own reflection in the mirror. There, she notices that her eyes are dirty and black from the mascara, her hair is all ruffled up and sticking out in every direction. She, for sure, doesn’t have a good hair day. Doesn’t have a good face day, either.

Ugh.

Maybe if she wouldn’t be so hungover, she’d be appalled by herself, would feel a little shame about how bad she looks, but she just can’t really find it in herself to care at all. Not even with Mr. Adonis in the next room and what does that say about her, really? Perhaps that’s the reason why she has been single for so long.

Y/N searches for a washcloth, debating on taking a shower too, but she really doesn’t want to invade his personal space. How weird would it be to shower here. She comes to the conclusion that it would be weird. Like, really weird.

Her eyes trail across the sink, finds a bottle of water with two pills next to it and a toothbrush. There’s also a fresh washcloth.

“Take the pills!”

She can hear his authoritative voice through the closed door and rolls her eyes.

How did he know? Looking around, she scans the bathroom — which is probably bigger than the whole of her apartment — for a camera but then pushes the thought away because she can’t imagine Dean being so creepy. If he is, she has to adjust her creep-radar.

After swallowing down the Tylenol, she takes the cloth and runs it under the warm water, washing her face with it as good as she can. She brushes her teeth too, puts her hair up into a bun, with a hair tie she always has around her wrist, and is thankful that she hasn’t lost that one.

Y/N walks out of the bathroom looking somewhat presentable, she thinks, (but even if she wasn’t looking that way, she’s okay with it. She’s too tired to care.) just as Dean walks back from what she assumes is the living room with her dress in his hands. There’s a faint smell of coffee that he brings in with him and her mouth waters at the thought of tasting black liquid.

He’s only wearing a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, which is a high contrast to his tailored suits but it suits him nonetheless and Y/N wonders what could make the man look bad, really. He makes everything look so good on him and honestly, it does frustrate her a little, if not a whole lot.

Because how fucking dare he. Life’s not fair!

She sits back on the bed, still feeling a little dizzy as she watches Dean come to stand before her. He places her dress onto the bed next to her.

“You okay?” He asks and she doesn’t look up. Doesn’t want him to know that she is, in fact, not really okay.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for letting me crash here.”

“Don’t bother,” He crosses his arms over his chest, “I cleaned your dress a little, if you want to wear something else, I’ll get someone to brin—”

“—No,” She shakes her head, “The dress is fine. I’ll change once I’m home.”

Because that’s what it is, right? He lets her crash because she was drunk off her head. There’s clearly no evidence that he did something to her while she was out cold and who knows if he’s even slept in the same bed? And now that the night is over, she has to go back to her home. Back to her life. She can’t help but feel a little disappointed, sad even.

And it bugs her to no end, because she knows. She knows that she should not be feeling all the things she feels. She knows that she shouldn’t be disappointed and think that this might go somewhere. Because after all, he’s still the mobster boss and she’s a cop. These things don’t usually mix.

Dean crouches down so he can look her in the eye and she feels that she’s blushing because he’s so close, and she still hopes that she’s too pale for him to notice.

“Listen, I need to meet Sam for training, will you be okay alone here?”

“Y-yeah, I shouldn’t stay though,”

“You can stay as long as you like, even go back to bed if you want to, it’s still early. There are fresh towels in the bathroom if you wanna take a shower. I just don’t have any of the girly scented stuff here,”

Y/N nods and Dean grins before getting up on his feet again.

“Good,” He says, but he’s not moving, is staying right there in front of her, “I’ll be away for about two hours, three tops. You can wait and I can drive you home,”

“Shit, my car,” It was only now that she realizes that she doesn’t even have a vehicle to get away if she would have wanted to. How fucking stupid of her.

“It’s alright, if you want to go now, there’s a box of car keys at the entrance, just take one and push the button when you’re in the parking garage, you’ll see which car will light up,”

“Oh,”

“And if you want to stay, there’s coffee and a full fridge, alright?”

She tilts her head up a little, not realizing that when Dean stands, his crotch is right at the same level as her face and why is she staring? She doesn’t really know, just knows that Dean fucking Winchester is packing and ugh, she can’t ply her eyes away.

“Okay,” She’s not the one to small-talk when she’s hungover, apparently. Not that she’s hungover a lot.

Dean chuckles and holds out his hand, placing his forefinger below her chin to lift it up so she could look up at his face, “My eyes are up here, Y/N,”

She blushes and now, she thinks that she can’t possibly hide the red that spreads across her cheeks.

He frowns a little as he looks into her eyes and she feels somewhat intimidated. Dean sighs before he speaks and draws circles on her chin with his thumb, “Do you remember anything from last night?”

“Uh..” She echoes his frown, “..Not really a lot, to be honest. Why? Did I do something embarrassing?” She chuckles out, it’s fake and all.

It’s not a lie though, she doesn’t remember much, kind of hopes that her memories will come back — at least some of them.

“No, you didn’t,” Dean’s voice was small and he sighs once more before he let go of her face, “Right, I need to get going, Sammy gets mad when I’m not on time. Will you be okay?”

“Don’t worry about me,” She says and she can swear that she hears something that resembles disappointment in his tone of voice.

“Good, I’ll hopefully see you later,” Dean walks to the door and looks back to nod one more time before he closes the door behind him.

Ugh.

Y/N walks out of the bathroom, feeling somewhat alive now after she’s had a good cup of coffee and a nice hot shower.

There were some difficulties because she’s never been in a fancy shower before and had trouble pushing the right buttons to get to the right temperature and right spray pressure. It’s ridiculous, really. Taking showers shouldn’t be this hard.

She’s wearing her dress again, had contemplated on leaving out her worn panties but it would have meant that she would have to go commando, which would make her feel even more uncomfortable than wearing her old ones, so she had to make due.

Walking out into the living room, she takes a look around again, sees things she’s missed before when she quickly downed her coffee.

Dean’s apartment is big and incredibly spacious. It’s decorated in warm earthy tones, using a lot of leather and wood, which doesn’t really surprise her at all.

By the look out of the window, she notices that she’s up high. Probably one of the cities new built high-rise buildings. Judging by how high she is, it could be a penthouse too. Which shouldn’t surprise her at this point.

She wants to explore more, sees that there are doors on the other end of the living room but before she can even make her way across the room, she hears a knock on the door.

Y/N walks to the door in her bare feet and opens up on instinct without another thought, which is actually a very dumb thing to do, since it’s not even her apartment.

“Oh,” Jo’s mouth opens but doesn’t close.

“Hi,” Y/N says equally surprised and she tries to smile but it doesn’t come out right.

“I actually came by to ask Dean if he wanted a quick fuck,” Jo eyes her up and down before she continues, “But I think he already had a boring one? At least you look like you’ve been fucked six ways to Sunday.”

Y/N is blushing, “We didn’t—”

“—Is he in?” Jo cuts in just as she wants to explain, but then she thinks that she doesn’t have to explain anything. She doesn’t owe Jo a damn fucking explanation.

“No, he’s meeting with Sam.”

“So, did you guys...” Jo raises one single eyebrow.

“It’s none of your business, but no.” Y/N has finally found her voice and sass, “I’m pretty sure the street corner right down here is not too crowded if you’re looking for a quick fuck.”

Jo’s shocked but she composes herself before she pushes past Y/N to get into the apartment.

When Y/N closes the door and turns around to confront Jo, she’s looking right into the barrel of the blonde woman’s gun.

“I don’t believe a word you say, but come to think of it, I’m glad I got you alone,” There’s a creepy grin on Jo’s face.

“Why is that?” Y/N’s heart races but she keeps her cool, she had been trained to do so for years.

“My boss wants you. It’s a pity that he wants you alive, though,” The blonde woman shrugs.

“But, your boss is Dean?” Y/N acts like she doesn’t know about all the shady stuff because the truth is, that Ellen only told her that Jo’s working for Dean. That’s really all she should pretend to know.

“Technically, yeah. But we’re not exclusive, you know.”

“Jo, I don’t know what you’re playing but I’m really not in the best of moods today,” Y/N rolls her eyes, her patience is running dangerously low. She’s already calculating her next moves in her head, knows that she would have no problem taking Jo out, if only she isn’t so fucking hungover.

“Oh, my bad. Did he leave you here alone because he couldn’t bear to see you in the morning, huh?” Jo snickers, “Because that happens, you know? I bet he made you feel special, huh? He’s awfully good in doing that, making girls feel special and drop them the next morning like they are some kind of fucking meat that goes bad after a night. Princess, I don’t fucking care about your mood. Walk to the door, we’re taking a road trip. Now.”

“Jo,” Y/N is massaging her temples when there’s a sudden noise in the back, something metallic drops to the floor and she sees a big and fat grey cat.

Jo’s distracted too, turns her head to look at the source of the sound. Y/N takes the opportunity, paires it with the element of surprise and disarms Jo with her skilled moves.

What she didn’t account for was that Jo’s quick too, hits Y/N’s wrist and sends the gun sliding across the floor before Jo wrestles her to the ground and straddles her. Jo’s hands are around her throat while Y/N trashes around with her legs.

“Strike one,” Jo pants and applies enough pressure on Y/N’s windpipes to make breathing difficult.

Y/N summons all her strength, extends her arms and gets a hold of Jo’s hair, pulling Jo close before she turns them both around and wrestles with her opponent on the floor. Jo’s pulling and tugging at Y/N’s dress and underwear and she thinks she hears something rip but she can’t care about it now.

They toss and turn until the blonde woman is lying on her stomach, and this time, Y/N is straddling Jo. The gun’s now so close that Y/N can grab it without her even having to try to reach it.

And that she does, pointing the gun right in Jo’s face while she breathes heavily and tries to calm herself down, “I told you, I’m not in a fucking good mood,”

“Fuck you,” Jo spits out, “Kill me now, because if Dean sees me, I’m dead anyway.”

“No, I won’t do you the favor.”

Jo laughs, “Coward!”

Instead of shooting, Y/N whacks Jo over the head with the gun. The blonde closes her eyes, her body goes limp.

That should do it for the time being.

Sam’s elbow is pressed sharp into Dean’s rip, and Dean can’t explain what happened. He didn’t pay enough attention, is what it is, and now his sparring partner, who happens to be Sam, has the upper hand.

Dean’s flat on his back, Sam’s bracing above him. His brother’s other arm is pressed into Dean’s throat and there’s a fucking cocky smile on Sam’s face.

“Wow, you’re getting old.” Sam chuckles as he gets off Dean and holds out a hand to help Dean up, but Dean doesn’t take it, is annoyed at the defeat.

Sam’s never gonna let Dean hear the end of it, he knows that. Never in his life has Sam managed to defeat Dean, Dean never did let it happen. He never gave Sam somewhat of a slight chance on even coming close to a fucking win.

“Just stress,” Dean mumbles out a white lie.

It’s too weird to pour his heart out to Sam, and he’s never been good at expressing his fucking feelings.

“Y/N?” Sam asks as they walk to their bags, placed some couple of feet away on a bench.

Dean fishes out a towel from his sports bag and rubs it over his sweaty head while he takes a large gulp from his bottled water. He’s also trying hard to avoid answering the question, hoping that Sam would let it slide. He drinks up, draining the bottle and Sam’s still fucking staring at him.

“Ah, it is then,” Sam says it lightly, too easily, and it annoys the fuck out of Dean.

He sits down on the bench in the gym of the bunker. Sam joins him, taking a seat beside him.

Dean breathes out, debating on how much , and if he wants to tell Sam at all. Sam’s his brother, the best thing that could have happened to him. Sam grounds him. But Sam also is a fucking pain in his ass and always knows when something is up, and Dean’s annoyed of that part the most.

Dean tries to find the words, saying the first thing that comes to mind, “I’m terrified, Sam.”

“You feel something for her, don’t you?” Sam grins knowingly, as if he can read Dean like an open book. “Tell me you feel it. The feeling that gets so big in your chest? Like something is so beautiful it literally aches?”

Dean thinks about Sam’s words. Admits to himself that yeah, it does hurt, in a way. And he definitely feels it.

“Yeah. But I shouldn’t.”

Sam turns to him, “Why not? What the hell, Dean!”

“The fuck you mean? You know who I am, Sam. You know what I am. You know that if I let her into my life, she’ll become a target too. It’s a dangerous life…”

What if I end up hurting her? What if I end up getting her hurt? He wants to add, but doesn’t, because Sam knows the unspoken truth.

Sam scoffs with a shake of his head, “So what? Take chances, Dean! You know, I haven’t defeated you, like, ever? That says something, right?”

“You were just lucky,” Dean huffs and bends down to unlace his shoes.

“Nah, man,” Sam snorts, and stands up to pace around. He’s more worked up about this than Dean thought he would be, “You know what I think, hm?”

Sam says it like it’s a question but it’s really not, and Dean doesn’t know if he has to answer and is glad that he doesn’t have to when Sam continues.

“You’re terrified, I get that. But…” Sam rakes his hand through his own damp hair that needs to see some scissors, Dean thinks. “...you’re not terrified about what could happen, not really. No, Dean, you’re fucking terrified that she could make you happy and for you, being happy is the most terrifying thing in the universe.”

Sam’s words hit Dean like a freight train, sits in his stomach like lead, and is weighing him down.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Dean scoffs as he finds his voice again, and looks up to his brother, “I’m terrified that once I’m happy, that it can be taken from me!” He rubs his hand over his face, “It’s not like you and Jess. You knew her before all of this!” He gestures with his hands but doesn’t explain, because he knows that Sam knows what he means.

“No, I think you don’t get it. Fucking live, Dean. Do you really think that you don’t deserve to be happy as long as you live? If anyone deserves to have something good, it’s you!”

Sam stomps away in the direction of the showers and Dean knows. He knows for sure that Sam’s right. But also, he knows that he somehow is right, too.

“Lunch at Bobby’s?” Sam asks before they walk to their cars.

There’s a vibration in Dean’s pocket and he fishes out his phone while Sam places his workout gear into the trunk of his own car.

Dean looks at his caller ID, frowns a little because he didn’t expect the caller, “Jo,” Dean says.

“Yeah, no, it’s me. I found Jo’s phone in her pocket. I would have called you from mine if I wouldn’t have my hands full,”

“Y/N?” Dean frowns some more.

Why is she calling him from Jo’s phone?

“Do you normally try to get the girls who sleep over at your place killed, or is it just me?”

“What?”

Dean listens as Y/N explains what happened and his frown gets deeper— if that’s even possible. Sam stands there and waits as Dean closes his eyes and breathes out, “Fucking Christ, stay put! I’ll be right there. I’ll send Cas around, maybe he’s there quicker than me.”

He hangs up, and opens the trunk of his car to throw his duffel in while he thumbs over Cas’ number, “Cas, get to my apartment, we’ll meet there. Think we found the snitch.”

Sam’s still standing there, puzzled.

“Need to get back, Sammy. Lunch tomorrow?” Dean shouts out while he smashes his trunk shut before he walks to the front and climbs into his car. He drives away without waiting for Sam to answer him.

CH10

#something just like this #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #mobster!dean #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan ficiton #nathalie writes

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chappedandfadedvds · 4 years

Text

Dec 17th, Thursday 22:18

Could the day get any worse?

Jens thought as he wearily stared at the swirling soapy water behind the little plastic window, as it went round and round and round. With a quick glance up at the digital screen above he dully noted that he had stood here across from the mashine for over fourty-five minutes now. Hs back uncomfortably resting against the cold tiled wall behind him, as he steadied himself to stay upright.

The time honestly surprised him. He would have been assured that this much time couldn’t have passed, if he hadn’t been proven wrong by the numbers he had read. Had he drifted off in between then and now? Jens didn’t think that he had closed his eyes once. Maybe he had though? It was hard to tell, as his mind felt awfully robbed of actual thoughts to grasp at. However he was too tired to really care in the end, as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other without steering from his position. He had nothing else to do than wait. And if he would begin to ponder remotely on anything, he might as well just start to cry he felt like.

Certainly it was bad timing for Lucas to pass Jens in his quest to remain perfectly silent, inside and out. Because his boyfriend stopped by the doorway, as he had descended the stairs to make his way way to the kitchen. Jens couldn’t be sure. Perhaps the younger boy was looking for him. Fourty-five minutes was a long time to be missing after all.

Jens unfortunately had made the mistake to turn his head, as it lead him to see Lucas softly smiling at him. A faint distinct anger was bubbling up inside him, ready to grow and show itself. Jens would let it, if it came to it.

„Here you are, I was wondering where you had...“ His boyfriend cheerfully declared, but haltet as his gaze fell to the washing mashine and realisation hit him hard. His face fell into shock. „Shit.“

Shit, indeed. Jens wholeheartedly agreed.

„I forgot.“

„I saw.“ Jens’s voice was brisk yet still quiet, nonetheless pressed in a way that should tell Lucas not to continue to talk, and instead leave. The younger boy seemed to simply overlook it or somehow be deaf to his tone.

Jens had finished cleaning the kitchen counter, when he had looked forward to get upstairs and end the day cuddled up to his boyfriend to get his well deserved rest. He was still a little indecisive over the question if he should be glad or upset over the fact that he had looked into the downstairs bathroom. If he hadn’t, he would have been happily in bed by now probably. But he also would have had a full load of laundry left in the washing mashine for hours over night and possibly the whole school day.

The washing mashine had been done for hours already, when Jens had wondered way it’s door was closed, after he had entered the room. Because everyone in the household always left it open, if it wasn’t running. So he had checked up on it and found the laundry forgotten in it. Which meant that Jens had quickly opened it to sniff one or two pieces and then immediately closed it again, to start the programm anew. Not much else for him to do here than wait.

And then he had gotten up to stand in the position that Lucas found him almost an hour later.

„I’m so sorry.“ Lucas apologised, knowing exactly well that it wouldn’t change anything about the situation right now. Truth be told, it only made Jens more angry. He could feel the electricity of tension in his fingertips, his hands balling into fists.

„I asked you to do one thing today and you said yes, so I...“

„I know. I’m so sorry.“ Lucas’s voice interrupted him, his eyes definitely looking the part. Jens would almost feel sympathy with him, just not quite as he went on. „I can wait and hang them instead, you can already go...“

„No.“ This time it was Jens who broke his sentence off midway. He knew Lucas meant for him to lay down and sleep. „I shouldn’t have asked you in the first place. It is not your responsibility in the first place. These are all my clothes anyway. All the clothes that I only need to pack tomorrow for the trip. All of them.“

„I...“ Lucas began, but stopped when Jens hold up his hand to gesture to him to shut up. His blood began to boil under his skin. He felt on edge. How couldn’t the younger boy see that?

„Today was hell.“ Jens stated, and meant it. His voice was getting louder. He tried his best to not shout though. The last thing he wanted was for Lotte or his mom upstairs to wake up. But he was getting furious with any passing moment that his boyfriend wouldn’t just leave. For god’s sake, Lucas didn’t even seem to listen to him, busy to once more apologise to Jens.

„As I said, today was hell. The last couple of days were fucking hard, Luc. Lotte had trouble sleeping. My mom was either in pain or sleeping. I had to deal with my father on top of the whole guardianship case. And today was just an accumulation of all.“

Jens tried to take a deep breath, it just didn’t calm him down. He honestly felt more enraged the longer he thought about it. If he wouldn’t feel as exhausted, he would have gladly punched something. Preferably the boy, but as his heart probably wouldn’t allow him, the wall behind him would have done perfectly well instead.

„Lotte woke me at fucking five in the morning with a headache, where only a pill two hours later in the end had helped enough to convince her to go to school. So she was late, I was late. You know I stormed into class fifteen minutes after the bell rung, right? My french teacher told me to see her tomorrow beacuse of my test, which probably doesn’t mean it went well. I come home with Lotte, trying to stay cheerful and relaxed enough for her to not suspect anything. And tell her to go to her room to play something. Because my mom called for me from the bathroom, once we entered the house. So the next twenty minutes I hold my mom’s thin hair out of her face as she barfes her heart out, crying through all of it because it hurts her even more to throw up than to eat. There was barely anything to vomit, other than spit and blood. And I cannot just break down next to her, you see, because she is a mess and needs someone to take care of her and lean on. I barely managed to get her collapsed body back into bed and collect myself enough for you to show up half an hour later with your packed bag. And I ask you for one thing, Lucas, one fucking thing, while I prepare dinner and clean up afterwards. To hang the fucking laundry.“

Okay Jens was livid, no use in denying that any longer, when his voice was audibly pressed as he spoke through his teeth to keep himself from yelling. He was furious to the point he found it hard to stop himself from going on rambling about his miserable day. Furious. Not just with Lucas, but also with himself and the world in general.

„I’m sorry.“ It was barely a whisper his boyfriend whimpered under his breath, but it send Jens to glare him down. Anything to get him stop talking. Lucas was swallowing on something, as he stared back at the older boy with wide eyes. Jens was pretty sure, he hadn’t expected that when he found him. But here they fucking were.

„Stop apologising! Christ!“

This was probably the worst part of it all. To see and hear Lucas’s genuine regret plastered across his expression and deeply anchored in his voice. Jens would have preferred to tell him all about his day differently. He had prefered them to already be in bed, and have Lucas understand and support him, as they hold each other in a tight embrace. Instead he got this. And yes, Jens probably could take a deep breath and calm down and concede that it was too late to be angry anyway. But he was left to his emotions eating away on his rational mind.

„Why, are you still here?“ He asked, almost shouted, as Lucas flinched still standing in the doorway. The poor younger boy didn’t even get to answer.

„Leave! Go home. Go to my room. I don’t fucking care. Just get your damn face out of my sight! I don’t want to fucking hear or see you, Lucas!“

„Jens, I..“

„LEAVE!“ This one Jens in fact yelled at the startled boy inside the wooden frame, before he tore his eyes away to watch the bubbles gathering on the other side of the hatch. It did calm him enough in order for the beating of his heart to slow, and the rushing of his blood to died down.

He didn’t see Lucas leaving, but he heard the shuffeling of feet for a moment, before Jens tuned everything out around him. Except for the laundry continuously spinning around inside the mashine, unbothered by the scene that had unfolded outside.

He didn’t wanted to know if Lucas had actually left or stayed.

It would break him to see the pairs of shoes and jacket gone.

The exhaustion was crushingly tearing at his consciousness.

Just thirty more minutes and he could hang his clothes up to dry. Allowing for him to finally seek out his bed and get some proper rest. God knows, he needed to close his eyes and feel his muscles able to relax, all of him tugged under a heavy blanket.

He hardly felt the trembling of his body, before his vision blurred and he slid down along the wall to sink in on himself. He drew his knees up, to prop his chin on them and hug his legs as tight as he could. Jens knew he was crying the moment he tasted the salt on his lips and his shoulders began to shake violently in the white lit room.

This day just needed to be over.

__ __ __ tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

#week 8 #wtfock #skam #vds #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #chapped and faded #i seriously hope this made you feel something #because I got exhausted for jens writing this #looking forward for the trip

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