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tendouluvr · 3 years

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not telling them you’re pregnant - f!reader

- fluff, sliiiight angst maybe

- characters: suna, sakusa, semi

- warnings: pregnancy (i don’t go into detail of giving birth or anything), cravings, morning sickness aka throwing up, two mention of the act of sex in semi’s, some cursing

- wc: 1.4k, 888, 946

a/n: it’s f!reader cuz pregnancy but there’s no specific pronouns/gendered terms used

also idk how suna got so long, he was the last one i wrote for bc i couldnt think of anything lmao

[2. iwaizumi, atsumu, kageyama]

SUNA

#! suna has been practicing late into the night the past few weeks

#! there’s a big game coming up and the entire team is feeling the pressure and adrenaline from the crunch time

#! you haven’t been feeling too good lately, a lot heavier and more tired than usual

#! thinking it was just stress from work and the missing presence of your boyfriend, you pushed through it and thought it would go away in the next few days

#! unfortunately, luck wasn’t on your side and you started to get sudden needs to throw up

#! it didn’t take you long to realize why your physical and mental drive have been down lately

#! you’re pregnant

#! or you believe you are

#! you bought a few tests, some of different brands so you can have a variety, and headed home to confirm your suspicion

#! a few minutes later, staring back at you was multiple positive symbols and the bolded ‘PREGNANT’s

#! taking a few deep breaths, you decided to tell suna tonight once he comes home

#! you thought it was better to let him know as soon as possible

#! it wouldn’t hurt anyone plus the faster you rip the bandaid off, the easier it’ll be to deal with it

#! so you waited

#! and waited

#! until 11pm that night, when suna finally came through the front door

#! “tarō! how was practice? can we talk?” you hurriedly greeted him

#! he was taken aback, not expecting you to be right beside him and in his ear as soon as he came in

#! of course you weren’t, you made sure to put some space in between you and him

#! but suna was stressed and tired, so everything is intensified to him at the moment

#! “can you back up?” he mumbled, pushing his way from in front of you to walk to the kitchen

#! “oh, sorry. can we talk?” you sheepishly smiled, hoping he would say yes

#! you’re not blind, you can tell that suna was tired but you really didn’t wanna put this off

#! you were just gonna tell him, he gets surprised, you both talk it out, and then go to bed and continue figuring things out tomorrow morning

#! but before any of that can happen, suna bluntly told you, “no. i’m tired. i’m sure whatever it is isn’t a big deal. can it be tomorrow? i wanna sleep.”

#! you didn’t get to answer before he was already walking away to the bedroom

#! understanding where he was coming from, you mentally agreed to talk to him tomorrow. one day wouldn’t change anything and you’ve seen plenty of people not tell their partners until a few weeks in

#! he was right, it wasn’t a big deal (yet)

#! so you waited until tomorrow

#! and waited

#! and once again, he came home late

#! “hey! can we quickly talk, babe?”

#! “i’m tired. tomorrow, okay?”

#! “oh, okay. night, rin!”

#! “g’night.”

#! night came and there was still no talk

#! this continued on for about 2 weeks, you finally choosing to not care anymore and just let him find out whenever he finds out

#! technically, you could’ve just blurted out a simple, “i’m pregnant.” any point during your nightly five seconds conversations

#! but seeing that he really was tired, springing it onto him would either put him in a full body shock for three days or he just doesn’t fully process your words until three days after

#! a month has passed, your stomach was still barely showing like most women at their one month mark

#! you decided to book an appointment for a checkup, it’ll be while suna’s at practice

#! and that doctor appointment was the exact reason suna found out

#! he was at practice when komori entered the gym

#! he had a doctor’s appointment for his annual checkup, and that’s where he saw you

#! you didn’t see komori, busy reading the directory to find your way to the right office

#! but he saw you on the way out. seeing that you looked a bit busy, he chose not to greet you and just quickly walk to his car lmao why is this funny to me

#! entering the gym, he greeted everyone and apologized for his tardiness even though it was excused

#! walking up to suna, he tapped him on the shoulder and quietly told him, “i saw yn at the hospital earlier. it’s been awhile since we all got together huh, they looked a bit different.”

#! ok so komori, being the smart person he is, deducted that you were pregnant when he saw your finger pointing at the ob/gyn office

#! and he genuinely thought suna knew so his comment was suppose to be a small joke that was meant to tease suna and his sex life

#! suna, however, was confused

#! look different? did you get surgery?

#! “what do you mean?”

#! komori rolled his eyes and gave a sweet smile at suna, “congrats you two! when were you gonna tell the rest of us?”

#! suna: 👨‍🦲 huh

#! “are you guys not pregnant?” he blinked at suna’s frozen reaction

#! suna became unresponsive so komori just walked away mumbling to himself about being sure he read the sign right

#! a loud whistle blew and it shook suna out of his daze, everyone got ready to play a practice game of 3 vs 3 while suna ran over to the coach

#! “hey coach, um i think there’s an emergency at home. can i go? ok thanks.”

#! his coach just stares after him as he sprints off, you think? is there an emergency or not?

#! suna quickly drove home, he may or may not have speed a little, and entered the apartment

#! “yn? baby?” he called out only to be greeted back with silence

#! probably still at the hospital....what were you doing there? he thought to himself while rummaging around the house to find anything that could give him somewhat of an idea

#! he was digging around in the bedroom when you came home, his head so frenzied he didn’t hear the front door open

#! but you heard the ruckus from the bedroom and immediately went into fight or flight

#! panicking, you took out your phone to call suna while quietly opening the front door to make your way back out before the intruder catches you

#! the phone rang and rang until it was picked up. “suna?” you whisper-yelled into the speaker. you had a habit of calling him by his last name when you were freaking out. he noticed and was equally alarmed

#! “what’s wrong?” he whispered back just as panicked

#! “there’s someone in our apartment. can you come home?”

#! “huh? oh, are you home?” he cackles into the phone speaker making you move the phone away from your ear, “it’s me, sweets, c’mere.”

#! you warily walked on your tiptoes over to your bedroom, peeking your head in and what a surprise, it is suna

#! “jackass! why are you home?!”

#! “why didn’t you tell me?” he cut straight to the point

#! “huh?”

#! “you’re pregnant. when were you gonna tell me?” his voice sounding stern, but the quiet smile dancing on his face tells a different story

#! “i tried.”

#! “huh? what do you mean?”

#! “all those times i asked if we could talk. i was trying to tell you.”

#! his heart dropped, eyebrows furrowing, while he stared you down

#! suna became unresponsive once again, standing there trying to think back to the first time you asked him

#! two weeks ago

#! “i’m sorry,” he quietly whispers

#! “hm? i..it’s fine....i was a bit sad, but i’m over it. at least you know now,” you casually shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big deal

#! “no. i shouldn’t have pushed you aside like that. even if you weren’t pregnant, even if you had just wanted to tell me about some stupid video you saw that day, i shouldn’t have told you off. i’m sorry, i love you a lot and you deserve so much better.”

#! “tarō, shut up. i accept your apology and i forgive you, now make it up to me by giving me a back massage while i show you the ultrasound pictures!”

#! he kisses you before lifting you up bridal style making his way to the bed

SAKUSA

#! contrary to popular beliefs, sakusa is not an obsessive germaphobe who finds everything disgusting but you

#! he wouldn’t be playing volleyball if he was that afraid of germs,,,,,

#! yes, he cringes if random little kids grab onto him after games because 1) he’s drenched in sweat and that feeling is not fun

#! 2) he doesn’t even know themmm

#! and 3) he wanna go home

#! but sakusa loves you and if you happened to get pregnant, he would love your kid(s) just the same

#! however, he never told you this. he never really had a reason to voice this out loud

#! so when you actually did get pregnant, you were confused

#! the only interactions between sakusa and kids you’ve seen multiple times were the moments between him and his fans

#! you guys have been to family parties and his nieces, nephews, and cousins looooves him

#! maybe it’s the fact that he’s a tall looming giant and they just want to climb

#! but besides those moments, you don’t recall him ever telling you upfront that he wants children of his own

#! and the constant stress and pressure he always seem to be working around also doesn’t help reassure you in any way

#! being an athlete for a living means always watching your body, health, and looks for the cameras (but omi could care less about the last thing)

#! he also has to make sure whether or not he’s working well with his teammates, practice and improve on anything he’s having problems with, and deal with atsumu’s dramatic ass

#! you’re an overthinker and because of that, all of these reasons were just reasons for you to postpone the pregnancy news to your long term boyfriend

#! it wasn’t too hard anyway, considering practice runs late sometimes and he’s busy majority of the time doing other stuff

#! when you guys do have alone time together, you both are so focused on one another that you actually forget that you’re pregnant and you never told him

#! you’re about to hit the three months mark now — time goes by fast — and sakusa has noticed you and your body changing

#! at first he just thought you were going through a phase of cravings and a bit of bloating, so he didn’t mention it and just let you be

#! he never got to witness you getting morning sickness because he goes on early runs or he was just out doing morning errands so he wouldn’t have to deal with it later that day

#! so when he caught you in the kitchen cutting up a lemon, the last thing he was expecting you to do was bring the lemon directly up to your mouth

#! “uh, what are you doing?” his deep voice caught you off guard, effectively stopping the hand that was holding the lemon

#! you just stare at him, not wide-eyed, not surprised, just stare

#! “eating a lemon.”

#! “i can see that.... why exactly?”

#! “dunno, the baby i guess.” you casually shrugged it off before popping the lemon slice into your mouth

#! “ah-,” he opened his mouth to stop you from eating the lemon, your words not fully processing in his mind, but cut off midway and froze when he finally realized

#! hearing him pause like that made you suddenly remembered that you never told him you were pregnant

#! you slowly turned back to look at him, mouth still slowly chewing the lemon slices

#! a moment of silence later, he unfreezes and just starts stiffly walking towards you

#! he grabbed you by the shoulders, made you look him in the eyes, before whispering, “you’re pregnant?!”

#! “y-yes..”

#! his eyes were wide, black pupils expanding as he stared you down, his lips slowly curving into a small smile

#! “you’re pregnant....,” he whispers, mainly to himself, hugging your head into his chest

#! “mhm, get off me i’m trying to eat,” you gently pushed him off but he wouldn’t budge

#! “omiiii please, if you get off i’ll give you a slice,” you tried bribing him. he couldn’t tell if you were being serious or just teasing

#! “no.”

#! “um ok, two slices?”

#! “no.”

#! “omi!”

#! he giggles before opening his arms to let you go

#! “why didn’t you tell me?”

#! you didn’t reply right away, making him start to overthink

#! did you not want the baby? or did you not want a kid with him? did you not want to be with him anymore? or was it not his?!

#! he childishly shakes his head side to side at the last question. he knew you wouldn’t do that

#! but you were still silent, making him nervously glance at you from the side

#! “sorry, piece of lemon stuck in my teeth. i just forgot to tell you,” the words easily flowing out of your mouth nonchalantly

#! sakusa’s fingers were literally about to start twitching from anxiousness beside you

#! a sigh of relief was heard from him and you turned to look at him

#! “you okay?”

#! he doesn’t answer, just gives you a smile and goes back to hugging you from behind

SEMI

#! you were currently sitting on the couch in your shared apartment waiting for semi to come home

#! he’s been on tour for a few months now, you both kept in touch by facetiming, texting, calling, and any other methods of virtual communication

#! you would tune into the live recording of all of his performances when you had time so you could watch him

#! a few weeks into tour, you suddenly felt different than usual but shook it off as nothing and probably just you missing your boyfriend

#! you believed that until one morning you were woken up by the sudden urge to throw up, dashing to the restroom as fast as your drowsy body can go

#! it was then that you realized you might be pregnant

#! the night before semi left, you both had sex to enjoy your last few hours together before he had to leave for a few months

#! with the new realization, you quickly dressed yourself to make a short trip to the store to pick up some tests

#! after half an hour of looking at yourself in the mirror, trying to wrap your head around this, you finally opened the first box

#! a few minutes later, all 5 tests were lined up on the bathroom counter showing positive

#! you stared at the tests, trying to make sure you weren’t reading it wrong

#! once you began to understand the responsibility of being pregnant a few hours later, you made a mental note to go out and buy some food for yourself the next day

#! you decided to sleep off the rest of that day

#! through all of the facetime calls with semi, you never once told him you were pregnant

#! you knew that if you told him he would freak out and either demand to go back home, or stay but all of his attention would be on you being pregnant alone at home for the rest of the tour

#! so here you are now, sitting with a 4 1/2 months baby bump waiting for your beloved to come home

#! it was around 6pm when the front door opened, sounds of shuffling bags and heavy steps could be heard from the musician

#! he cursed under his breath when he almost tripped over a duffle bag with some of his loungewear, calling out for you as he walks further into the apartment, “baby? i’m home!”

#! he was about to speak up again when he saw you asleep on the couch

#! bouncing his way over, he got onto his knees at the edge of the couch to observe your face. god i miss you, he thought to himself

#! he gently shakes you awake, you jolted in surprise not knowing you fell asleep in the first place

#! “hmm- what?,” soft murmurs falling from your lips as you adjusted your eyes at your surrounding

#! “eita!” he grinned at you, both of you pulling each other into a hug

#! “fuck, i miss you so much.” he whispered into your ears before placing his face into your neck

#! “i miss you more.” you tightened your grip around him making him move up on the couch to get more comfortable

#! you both moved around until he had you cradled in between him, your back against his chest

#! his hands going under your his shirt to caress you there when his movements stopped right on top of your stomach

#! it was silent as his warm hands rubbed your stomach in circles, the gears turning in his head

#! “are you- you feel- why’s your tum so round and hard?” he quizzically asked, still rubbing your stomach

#! “pregnant.” your voice a low whisper, he almost didn’t catch it

#! “what?”

#! “pregnant.” you repeated, a bit louder this time

#! “huh?”

#! “pregnant!” you sighed, moving his hand so you can get off of him

#! he grabs your wrist to stop you from walking away and turns you to look at him

#! “you’re pregnant?!”

#! “i just said that. yes.”

#! you knew you sounded blunt and a bit mean, it wasn’t his fault he doesn’t know at all, but your hormones have been making you crankier and it’s out of your control

#! “sorry. yes, i’m pregnant.”

#! his eyes continuously darts up and down from your eyes to your bump

#! “how long?”

#! “since you left.”

#! “was it the night before?” he was referring to your act of intimacy the night before he left

#! “yea.”

#! “wow. why didn’t you tell me?”

#! “because.”

#! “‘cuz what?”

#! “because i know you. you would either stop touring and come home, or stay but lose focus. i was just trying to not distract you because i know how important your career is to you. and because i thought that you’ll be having a six months break after this tour before your next comeback, i would tell you when you came home. i’m sorry if you’re ma-,”

#! “i’m not mad. oh don’t cry, babe, look at me.”he carefully cups your face, “it’s okay, it’s okay. i get why you kept it from me. and now that i have no schedule for the next six months, i can be there for you until the end of your pregnancy and the beginning of our baby’s life alright?”

#! you weakly nodded against his palms, and he brings you back down to lay your head on his chest as you both softly talk about the past months without each other

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jinxhallows · 3 years

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You Are The Prototype (100 Follower Celebration Fluff - Felix (SKZ) x Reader

What the heck yinz guys?! How did I hit 100 followers?! I don’t even think I got that far when I first started writing fanfiction on tumblr like 10+ years ago. This random drabble means a lot to me for a couple reasons lol....first, its my 100 follower celebration! Second, I am a very shy bean these days when it comes to writing real people. I’m not sure why, since one of my most incredibly popular fics to date was a full length + sequel series of a Bruno Mars Vampire AU I wrote in 2010 LOL (its still out there in the tumblr-verse if you can find it LOL!).

I guess the world has grown more sensitive to these kinds of things so I tread lightly; but with the help of my new friend Kai, I’ve been introduced to this fantastic human (and many others!) and would appreciate it if you guys would allow me to celebrate 100 amazing people supporting my writing with this bit o’ fluff.

One more thing! I have some WIPs now (how exciting!), so if you’re interested, here’s what I’ve got in the works to be posted soon:

- Chaotic Freewrite Pt. 9 - Method Writing feat. Lucifer (Pt. 2) - 40′s Asylum Patient Levi (collab) - Karma Akabane (collab)

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR SUPPORT. It really means the world to me. Every single one of yinz. I’ve met and interacted with so many wonderful souls here. I don’t even know what some of yall look like and you share my deepest secrets. Please take my hand and trust me as we continue to grow together during this journey. I love you very much for accepting me. Enjoy.

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ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴛʏᴘᴇ - 100 ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ! (ꜰᴇʟɪx ꜱᴋᴢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

ᴄᴡ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ: ıllıllı １.８k ıllıllı

----------------

I hope that you’re the one...

If not,

You are the prototype.

Prototype by OutKast (piano cover)

Raucous sounds of combined laughter filled your duplex. You were certain the neighbors next door could hear everything going on and were likely wondering what prompted this kind of boisterous fun on a Tuesday evening.

You had to work in the late afternoon, so you felt it was reasonable and necessary to succumb to your cravings at 11pm for the chocolate chip pecan cookies you used to love as a child. Besides, your boyfriend was a pretty damn good cook and a bit of an insomniac himself. He’s sitting atop the edge of the kitchen table, beaming down at you, all freckled and brown-eyed; his bleached golden hair tousled over his head.

He watches you as you happily ramble, speaking entirely too fast and too loud. Anybody else might have tapped out by now, but Felix remained steadfast, instinctively drawn to your bright, bubbly personality, enamored by every excited word that fell from your plump lips.

He’s holding a big, white ceramic bowl of wet and dry cookie mix ingredients, stirring the wooden spoon every so often as he nods to let you know he’s still with you on every word of your speech.

You finally take a deep breath, coming to the end of your roundabout explanation.

“So, can you help me? Pretty please?” You add on the last part, hoping the bat of your lashes sealed the deal for you. Little did you realize, Felix would’ve done nearly anything for you. He loved you. You two had fell into the natural rhythm of your relationship two years ago. What you were asking was simple of him; you were a theatre major in college and needed to complete a final speech for dialect class. You chose Australian. You were good at faking a believable high British dialect, could it be much different?

Instead, the subtle nuances proved to be more challenging than you had anticipated; so it made sense to ask your Aussie boyfriend to help you out. Who else was there to ask, after all? You didn’t think it would be this frustrating when you picked it up to begin with. You’ve heard him speak to you all the time—over the phone, in person, Facetime; it even came out in a strangely sexy way during intimacy. You thought you could mimic it with no qualms, but your mouth just refused to cooperate with your brain.

“Do I ever say no to you?” He asks with a lopsided grin, plopping a dollop of cookie dough on your nose. “What’s your speech about?”

“Well...” You giggle, trying to lick your nose, “It’s gonna sound really dumb and simple–”

“Try me.” He grins, leaning forward to take care of the work for you, swiping the cookie dough off with a flick of his tongue.

You’re standing between his legs that dangle mid-air off of the table. You place your hands on his thighs, rubbing back and forth a few times before you give a deep sigh, “I just told the story of how we got Doobie.”

Doobie was the dog you both shared, sleeping peacefully in her bed across the kitchen.

“You make the biggest deal out of nothing, you know that?” He leans down and kisses your nose, pushing himself off of the table so he can continue with the baking process. “You made it seem like you were going to ask me to have sex with you for a show and tell project or something.” He chuckles as he sets the bowl on the table and begins to pick up dollops of cookie dough out of the bowl, rolling it between his clean palms, rounding the cookies out into perfect shapes and placing them on the cookie sheet.

“Now that is quite an idea…” You know it could never happen, but goodness, just the thought of your boyfriend spreading you out on a desk for all of your classmates to see–

“Bring it back here, Y/N.” He snaps greasy, flour dusted fingers in front of your face, lifting a brow. A kind, simple way to nudge your focus back on the task at hand. He had a unique way of being incredibly sweet, but taking control of you when necessary. “The speech?”

“Right!” You bring your attention span back to the present for a moment. You begin your speech, trying the best Australian dialect that you can muster. Felix tries to focus on the cookies being placed on the sheet; but when you get to the third sentence, his can’t help the laugh that breaks through his tightly closed lips.

“Shit..is this for a grade, Y/N?” He finally looks up at you from the cookie sheet, his brown eyes locking onto your own, twinkling in amusement.

You nod slowly, “Is it that bad?”

Felix is rubbing the dough between his palms, smoothing out the final cookie. “If your teacher knows anything about dialects, that’s a solid C-.” he places it on the sheet before looking at you, “I might be being generous since I love you.” He’s trying to not laugh again, as he places a few stray pieces of pecans atop the cookies that lay on the sheet.

“C’mon baby, I’m serious. It’s due in three weeks!” You pick up the tray, carrying it across the room to place into the pre-heated oven.

“Alright, alright. I get it.” he becomes a bit more serious; but before he begins, he asks, “Is the timer set?”

You set your phone onto the table, counting down from 14 minutes. “Ready when you are.” You sit at the kitchen table, pulling out your phone notes with the full speech inside of it.

“Let me see it.” He grasps the phone from you, his free hand dropping onto your knee. He strokes the fabric of your pajamas with his thumb absentmindedly as his lips silently move, eyes narrowing as he focuses on reading all of the text you had written down. He starts typing into the notes, thumbs moving quickly and efficiently. You want to ask what is he up to, but decide to just be grateful for the help instead. A minute or two passes, and Felix hands your phone back to you.

“Try to read it now.” He suggests, watching you intently as you scan over the phonetics he’s added to help with pronunciation.

You sound as if you’re reading a foreign language for the first time as you sound out the first sentence, “The car ride to the farm didn’t give me a single clue to what the future held.” You speak in a staggering manner, dropping the “r” at the end of car, adding emphasis to the “u” in ‘future’ (which was sounding a bit more like fee-you-cha). The e’s became i’s, and the i’s became oi’s, so on and so forth, phonetically speaking. Finally, you look up at Felix for approval.

You’re about to smack fire out of him when you see he’s about to laugh again.

Noticing your impending frustration as your brows knit together, he leans forward out of his chair to give you a kiss of encouragement before he pulls his chair closer next to yours, taking your phone and pointing out the lines to you. “You’re thinkin’ about it way too much.”

“It’s my final exam for this class and 50% of my grade.” You give him a defeated look, “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

The smell of freshly baked cookies begins to waft throughout the air.

His eyes flit across your face for a moment. He’s thinking of what to say to make you feel at ease, a little better. Felix heard you practicing your dialects all day, nearly everyday for this advanced level class ever since the semester began. He knew you had it in you to learn something so simple; but you always got in your own way with the imposter syndrome that was eating at you from the inside out. Felix was always good at that–at making sure you felt as capable as you truly were.

“Baby, you’re gonna kill this. I know it.”

Ding.

The cookie timer begins to ring.

You turn the notification off as Felix ambles over to open the stove, grabbing oven mitts and pulling the tray out and setting it atop the stove. He waves his hand over them, purely out of habit, and takes a whiff, his eyes closing in pure bliss.

Suddenly, he turns around to you excitedly. “I have an idea.” he says, his complexion begins to flush with reddened nervousness that he tried not to show, instead, displaying masked determination. “Your exam is in three weeks, right?”

“It is…”

“What if–” He places his hands out, trying to get you to not jump further than where he was headed in the conversation. “What if, I took you to meet my family finally?” He finally blurts, waiting on your reply with bated breath.

You feel a combination of shock and excitement climbing your nerves. “Y-You want me to meet your family, Felix?” You repeat.

He rolls his eyes, “Yes that’s what I just said!”

“I mean–” Your heartrate is climbing at top speed with anticipatory anxiety, “Yes?” You say it again to sound more sure of yourself, “Yes! Yes…I would…I would be honored.” Your voice softens. You feel stupid hot, fat tears welling in your eyes. Both of your past relationships had never given you the opportunity to meet their families, let alone in an completely different country.

“ ‘I would be honored’ ” Felix mocks you lovingly with soft tone, “Just relax baby, they’re gonna adore you. And...” he kneels down in front of you, reaching up to wipe a tear before it gets to fall down your cheek.

“I’ll make sure you pass your final with flying colors.” He smiles at you, “You know I love you, right?”

A few relentless tears drop anyhow.

“I love you too, Felix.”

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preciouslittletoonette · 3 years

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“Your Daddy”

A self-indulgent Mickey Mouse fic that I just wrote on a whim. Based on a headcanon I made several months ago

1928

“ LES CLARK! GET IN HERE, NOW”

It has been a.... bizarre three years working for Walt Disney.

Back in 1925, when Les first joined Walt, he was truly expecting a temporary job, possibly washing cels and doing a couple drawings here and there. But what once was thought to be a temporary job turned into three years honing his craft under the careful mentorship and friendship of the great Ub Iwerks, someone Les heavily admired.

But that was not the bizarre part.

The bizarre part came in the form... of Julius the Cat.

When Les entered the studio on his very first day, the toon barreled straight into his gut in excitement at the prospect of meeting someone new. Les, not expecting the greeting, barely caught the doorframe in time to stop himself from falling from the sheer force that was Julius.

Rather than amusement from his new coworkers, he was met with sympathy. Making him realise that this was, indeed, a normal occurrence.

The only one who had looked mildly amused was Walt, who sent Les a sheepish smile as he (rather gently) pried Julius off of him and settled the toon against his hip.

“ Heh, sorry about that Les. Julius here gets rather excited at the prospect of newcomers”, he said motioning to the cat, who was cuddling up to Walt’s side.

Les had accepted the apology and was soon introduced to Ub, who after the introduction immediately moved to scold Julius, who looked sheepish and nervous under Ub’s gaze. The entire interaction between Julius and the two men confused Les until two words came out of the cat toon’s mouth.

“ Sorry Papa”

While he looked nonchalant on the outside, the words had hit Les like a freight train on the inside.

And thus began Les’ journey into the bizarre absurdity that was the Animation Industry.

Working under Disney led to Les learning a plethora of things, and some of them had less to do with actual animation and more to do with the toons. Sometimes while Ub was teaching him, the man would throw in advice on caring for toons. Any question Les had, Ub would answer and the man was incredibly blunt with his explanations.

“ So you’re Julius’ father?”

“ Yes”

“....But he calls Walt ‘Dad’”

“ It’s co-parenting”

And some answers were... weirder than others.

“ What do toons eat?”

“ Everything we eat and a little more”

“ What?”

“ Julius once ate an entire an entire paint can, filled with paint. Nearly sent me and Walt to an early grave, the little bugger. He didn’t get sick or anything, oddly enough he looked a lil’ healthier after that...”

“... So you let him eat paint now or-”

“ God lord no! We’re not taking chances in case he actually gets poisoned someday”

“ Oh”

“ Another tip, don’t ever let your toon eat erasers. That stuff will make them sick”

“....Noted”

Though it suffices to say, the years leading up to 1928 was an experience Les would never forget.

It was currently well past 11PM when Les entered Walt’s home, Lillian letting him in and calling for Walt, who was in his office, who then called Les to get to his office.

Les peeked inside to see Walt pacing from one side of the room to another. Sitting on a chair in the corner was Ub, holding something close to his chest as he tried to not doze off.

Both Ub and Walt looked like they haven’t slept in days.

Les lightly knocked on the door, announcing his presence.

Walt ceased his pacing,” Ah there you are, Les. Thanks for coming over”.

“ Well it sounded urgent. Couldn’t leave you two hangin’. What happened?”, Les asked concerned

“ We did it”, Walt sighed as he ran a hand down his tired face before looking to what Ub was holding.

Les’ eyes widened when the realisation of what had happened, finally noticing that what Ub was holding was definitely moving and shifting in the sleep-deprived man’s arms. Ub, noticing the attention from the standing men, shifted the being in his arms until Les could properly see him. In his mentor’s arms...

... was a sleepy small toon mouse.

“ When did you-?”

“ An hour ago”, Walt answered,” We made him an hour ago- but that’s not the point of you being here. Wait right here, I’ll be back”, with that said, Walt left the room to go further into the darkness of the house.

Les made his way over to his mentor’s side, dragging another chair closer to him and sat close by.

“ You okay, Ub?”, Les asked concerned.

“ I’m good”, Ub replied looking down on the toon in his arms,” Walt called me out of work to do this”, he moaned tiredly.

“ You were working?”, Les questioned.

“ I had extra work to do for Mintz because of planning with Walt”, Ub explained.

Les was well aware his mentor was working on things for Walt even while he continued to work for Universal. Ub was providing the money they needed to get the studio running while Walt and Roy went out, looking for new distributers after Winkler Pictures and Universal betrayed them.... and took Oswald away from them.

It was tragic watching everything unfold after Walt and Roy returned from their meeting with Mintz. After everyone just upped and left, leaving the four of them behind. Ub was in a fit of rage when he found out and what happened after that was the loudest, most rage-filled argument Les had ever heard between Walt and Ub. It had gone on for nearly a hour before things quieted down. But they didn’t leave the room they were in immediately, they were in there for a few minutes before finally coming out, eyes bloodshot and puffy despite vehement denies that they were crying. But it was clear as day that they were deeply hurt.

Les hoped to never ever have to go through what they went through.

“ What’s his name?”, Les inquired.

“ Michael Theodore Mouse. Mickey Mouse”, Ub stated with a nod,” It was Lillian’s suggestion after hearing Walt’s original name for him”.

“ And that was...?”

“ Mortimer”, Ub gagged.

Les snorted when he heard the name,” Bless Miss Lillian for stepping up where Walt failed in the naming department”, he joked humorously.

“ Amen to that”, Ub said with a short laugh as he looked down on the toon,” Hear that, Mickey. Your dad was going to name you Mortimer. What an unusual unneeded punishment, eh buddy”, he continued as Mickey smiled at Ub with sleepy eyes.

“ He’s very cute”, Les commented with a smile.

“ Of course he’s cute. I designed him after all”, Ub quipped with a smirk.

Les chuckled,” Of course”.

Ub smiled before looking down to Mickey again, this time his eyes filled with sadness. Les noticed this.

“ Thinking about Oswald again?”, Les asked.

“ Yeah. It’s just..... it’s been weeks since Mintz took him away and I haven’t seen him around the studio even while I was working. I’m worried about him and Julius”, Ub admitted,”.... I initially really didn’t want to do this”.

Les raised a brow,” What changed your mind?”.

“ Walt”, Ub said plainly,” We’ve been runnin’ around this for weeks now- well I was. You probably overheard me and Walt talking about this one night at the studio”.

Les nodded. He had overheard the conversation between Walt and Ub one evening when they were doing checks on the Hyperion studio. A mere two weeks before the current moment, Les recalled. It was far from an argument but there was definitely a disagreement. Ub wanted to wait a bit longer before creating another toon but Walt wanted it done sooner rather than later. The man even had a rough idea sketched out after seeing a mouse on the train heading back to Burbank, Ub just had to create a proper design and then bring it to life. But to Ub it was moe complicated than that.

The man was exhausted, not just from overworking but from the very fact he had not JUST lost Oswald, but also Julius as well. And the guilt and sadness was eating him up from the inside. He was still wounded by the loss and Walt was not letting it heal like it was supposed to.

Not to say Walt wasn’t also facing his own major problems. He was also NOT coping well with losing Julius and Oswald (the latter especially) and his temper was much more explosive than usual from Les’ perspective. He threw himself into his work, dragging Roy everywhere to every film distribution company in the Los Angeles county. Heck, Les wagered Walt’s desperation might even have him go look for distributors in New York. And the man was constantly stressed out and judging by what Walt looked like earlier, even sleep deprived from working this much to avoid his own thoughts to grieve. You could say his desperation and grief was blinding him to his friend’s own grief.

Les winced at the thought, silently pitying his seniors.

Ub continued on speaking,” Distributors want to see the stars nowadays and not just concept art. They want to see and meet the toon and as charismatic as Walt is, he can’t convince them to wait any longer. So I bit the bullet tonight”, he explained, shifting Mickey as the toon squirmed a little in his arms,” But I’m don’t regret this. I feel a lil’ better after making lil Michael here. He’s just too darn active for me to ignore, isn’t that right buddy”, he said addressing Mickey, who was about ready to fall asleep again.

Les smiled at the sight of the toon,” Well I’m sure this one right here’s gonna be the one to boost us to success”, he said.

“ You think so?”, Ub inquired with a grin.

“ O ‘Course! After all, who could resist this cute little face?”, Les cooed at Mickey before turning to Ub,” AND you and Walt have already raised some pretty big stars. No doubt this little one will follow suit with his brothers”, he proclaimed confidently,” You two are gonna great dads.... again”, he joked lightly.

Ub chuckled,” And I’m sure you’ll be a fantastic dad too, Les”, he stated light-heartedly.

Les frowned, about to ask Ub what he meant before Walt peeked in, having returned from where he went off to.

“ Hey, sorry for the delay, she crawled out of the basket and I had to find her”, Walt explained nervously with a chuckle.

Les raised a brow at the mention of a her but Ub spoke up before he could ask

“ It’s fine. We were distracted with talking anyway. Bring her in already so Les can meet her”

Les was highly confused for a second before registering another toon mouse in Walt’s arms that was quickly transferred to his lap in seconds.

“ Les, meet Minnie, Minnie, this is Les Clark-”, and the next words will forever imprint itself in Les’ mind-

“ -Your Daddy”

“ Wait what?!”

#disney #disney fanfiction #les clark #minnie mouse #walt disney #mickey mouse #ub iwerks #walter elias disney #ubbe eert iwwerks #to be continued...maybe

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

Text

Illicit Affairs - Harold x Reader (Adore)

Cruel Summer / Magnets / The Next Best Australian Record

GIF CREDIT: X

@wltz-bby @happyskywhale

Author’s Note: I know I said I was kinda finished with these two as far as I thought safe to take them. Oh, but this song I haaaaaaad to...

So here’s another one on the list of ‘how long does it take you to write a fic’. I decided I was writing this on 8th October (when I wrote my plot notes. at like 11pm) then I wrote and finished it on 10th/11th. Whereas sooooome stuff gets stuck in my drafts for like 6 months. And honestly I really don’t know how I do it. There’s a fic on my side blog that I turned around in 24 hours, which is another thing entirely but I am the most inconsistent writer! 😅🙈😬 I don’t know how you all put up with it, to be honest, but I’m glad you’re all here!

Ah shit we being and ‘end’ with Taylor again?! Ah well, can’t be helped!

Disclaimer: Adore/Adoration not mine / gif not mine / lyrics not mine

Premise: With Harold now divorced things get a little easier for a while, but you shouldn’t expect things to remain so un-convoluted for long, especially when you receive an invite to Tom’s wedding...

Words: 6418

Warnings: Sexual connotations / Sexual Pre-Amble / Swearing

_______ Make sure nobody sees you leave Keep your eyes down Tell your friends you're out for a run You'll be flushed when you return Take the road less traveled by Tell yourself you can always stop

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings And longing stares It's born from just one single glance But it dies, and it dies, and it dies A million little times

Take the words for what they are A dwindling, mercurial high A drug that only worked The first few hundred times

And you wanna scream Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else

And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself A million little times ---

Life all seemed a little easier after his divorce. You still had to be careful, that much was certain, but it didn’t feel like a full affair. The only attachment either of you had was each other. For you it felt like a weight was lifted - a worry. If you only had to worry about what your friends and the University would think if they found out, all that really mattered was being careful on campus. Surprisingly easy; longing glances in class could have meant anything (didn’t they all already know you had a massive crush?), but that ‘catch you later’ smile on his face was the best new thing. Not every night, but a few of them you would spend back at his place. It felt like a real relationship now, you’d found something meaningful. Now you could spend time with him off campus, you seemed to get even more careful on it. It wasn’t the only place you could touch him, hold him, kiss him anymore. You’d been concerned about him leaving you. The age gap in itself would give him more than enough reasons. But he didn’t; Harold stayed. And eventually it wasn’t just belief that he wouldn’t leave you, you knew he wouldn’t. So another year at university ended, and this summer was the first you’d spent between Sydney and home. Obviously, Harold wasn’t going to be coming back. And far be it from your parents to stop you from going back to see your friends. They were just glad to see you happy, and having your own adventures. And you did get to have adventures, even if you never left his house. Summer bled into another year of university, important as your final one, strange in every social context you could possibly think of. Unusually tough to balance – and it made you only too glad to immerse yourself in your class work rather than your relationship. One of the blessings of Harold being that much older than you and having been there before (and heck as if he didn’t know about stressed and struggling university students), was that he understood and let you get on with what you thought was important. You still saw him, just not as often, and it affected nothing between you. Tom wanted to see more of his father, again that was understandable to you, but it was weird to see him kicking around Sydney and occasionally in your classes. On the instances you did bump into each other – and none of them very compromising, that you made sure of – you were civil. But there was never anything more to it than that, until Mary. Your first thought should obviously have been ‘I guess his girl back home didn’t work out’. Instead it was more about things becoming even more convoluted. Harold had come to you with the great idea that, as a final year and preparing to take that leap into the world of acting, you could mentor the lower years on your experience. Your mentee met your ex-boyfriend, and the next thing you knew they were dating. Harold thought it was hilarious, you weren’t so sure – but were at least prepared to see the ironically funny side. You certainly neglected to mention it any time you talked with her though. You weren’t sure you could get through a conversation without ‘Oh yeah and by the way he’s a cheater…’ Highly inappropriate! As you did start to consider your future seriously, the path you found yourself on came from an unexpected place. A new friend – a guy in class who you knew of, but had never really worked with. Stuck together for one of your many final projects, this wasn’t just about developing a few scenes – but a whole two-person stage play. It was like a light bulb moment, how well your energy and creative process and thinking matched. On the same page from the first moment, you weren’t sure which one of you had suggested doing this past your final year, but it seemed like the most logical thing in the world. As expected, Harold was nothing but supportive. Even joking that you’d get your work finished and produced before any of his. Before you hushed him with kisses and let him know how much you believed in him. Adding to your mad year, Harold also moved house – still beach front, modern and pretty. But it maintained a nice rustic aesthetic. Polished wood and steel. He whisked you up to see it before he’d even bought it – because apparently you got a say in things like this now. ‘Why? You’re the one living here.’ ‘I want you to still want to visit me.’ ‘I’d visit you if you were in a 1 bedroom flat with peeling paint and a leaky kitchen sink, you know that.’ ‘Yeah but, maybe it won’t always just be my house.’ You hoped he didn’t expect to be met with anything but joyful screaming at that. The very last thing – as if everything else wasn’t enough - was the final year production. Gruelling auditions were worth it once you got the main part, opposite your future business partner. It was nice, it was going to give you a taste of the future, a trial run. Harold unfortunately was in charge of the second years instead, but he brought Tom over to help manage it – no prizes for how he met Mary. Still, you went along to watch and support. Wondering how exactly you could make him a piece of the puzzle… proud of him and his vision. It made you nothing but excited for that original work of his to be complete – it would be nothing but an honour for you to star in it. Yet it also meant that he didn’t get to see yours until it debuted, and somehow having him on the front row provided you with a confidence boost. And that little wink he gave you as you took your bows gave you all the hints you needed about where your night was going… You wouldn’t lie to yourself anymore, Harold was everything you had always wanted. *** You gave it almost exactly a year after you had finished studying before you ‘came clean’ to your friends. Oh, you were never going to tell them the full details, and you certainly weren’t about to tell your parents everything: just that you were with someone, and you were happy… really happy. In your opinion that was all that should have mattered to them. Your friends were all incredibly shocked at first, but then supportive, and they instantly brought back some of their old favourite jokes ‘Holy shit! Good marks eventually DID get you in his pants after all!’ The truth was not the official line: You had met in a café like total coincidence just to catch up, once… twice… turning into a fair few times… turning into chemistry. Still totally weird, still with that age gap that made everyone (and you meant everyone) caution you, still this ‘he was your teacher once-!?’ that hung around. But not the truth, not that this had been going on so much longer than that. A story that you were both happy with – because no one ever needed to know the full story. And Harold was right about his house; although you had a small apartment across town you hardly stayed there – you spent all your time with him at his. You didn’t want to call it yours, didn’t dare speak the word ours until he did it first. But it always hung there, unspoken… Soon enough your friends grew to love him. How different things were out of the classroom, the conversations and interactions between them. Them all telling you that they finally got it – and then understood why, upon you meeting up again, why you’d hooked up. Which only had you pitying them for not seeing how gorgeous and amazing he was in the first place. There were a lot of shared evenings that happened around his house, where he’d let you invite your friends over but stayed well out of the way. Harold also let you invite them to his birthday though, and after the initial celebrations he and his friends stayed inside, whilst your friends stayed out on the porch. There was a chill in the air, but the fire was still going and you were all huddled together under blankets. As one by one his friends left and you were still sitting out giggling and sipping wine and beer, Harold came out to check you were all okay. Because he cared about them as much as you did. It made you love him even more, if that was at all possible. They probably loved that they could wind you up over this more than anything else, but that was fine for you, you knew it would take time for them to get used to the idea, although the tide was already turning; it was weird but they were also loving it. No one had left, somehow in all this madness you’d kept everything. It all seemed a little too good to be true sometimes, so you made sure to count all your blessings.

Harold’s play still wasn’t finished; he always said he was almost there, but seemed to be taking an age to edit it all – he’d let you read nearly everything but the conclusion. “Why? Won’t I like it?” “I just want it to be the final-final version before you read that. I guess it’s more… thought provoking than satisfying.” So he kept you guessing. You’d become more of a stage actor than you’d ever expected… perhaps eventually you’d commit yourself to film and TV too. You’d done a few here-and-there episodes but nothing concrete. But it was the dynamic between you and your writing partner – who, if you were honest, was quickly turning out to be your best friend – that kept you in stage work. You’d started a small production company to write and produce these plays and they were pretty successful. But you’d also been included in other, sometimes large scale, productions. And, yes, as ever, Harold was front row for as many of these as he could be. You spent your spare time as you had before, tangled up with him, reading or writing together. With always the promise of: ‘Once I finish I’m casting you in this!’ and any time the school did a production, well… it was your turn to be front row for him.

*** Your joint influence on the people in your lives became more apparent, and also came as a surprise. To you at least. And your question was tentative even if you knew the answer already. “Harry… did you… get an invite to Tom’s wedding?” He pointed up to the fridge upon which was stuck the invite; very pretty, clearly there had been a lot of thought put into this and you would think a lot of effort would be put into such a wedding. You crossed the kitchen to look at it: Plus One, interesting. “Does he know?” “He knows I have somebody but not who, why?” By now he’d caught the piece of card you were holding in your hands, and you held it up. “I didn’t expect to get one myself, but here we are. I mean if I was going to be included at all, maybe I’d be on my parents one, but-” “Oh! Mary’s influence?” “Perhaps. I haven’t told her anything either, but why me? I’m his ex and I’m friends with her… but not very good friends.” “Family friends, maybe that’s it.” “A courtesy invite? I suppose it could be. But it’s not like my parents knew you and Roz that long, I didn’t grow up there like Tom and Ian-” You thought better of it and held that thought. You scored the invite with your nails, “Do you… want me to go?” Harold tilted himself back slightly, folding his arms, “Why? Are you thinking of not going?” “It’s not that, it’s that my parents are going. They’ve already discussed it with me, I’m certainly not ready to out this. And I don’t want you to spend your son’s wedding worrying about that. It’s a big day for him and you!” “Would you go anyway?” “Harry-” “It shouldn’t be about me.” “No, it should only be about you! Yes, I would like to go, but not if it makes more sense for me to stay away.” “Then accept and come.” You blushed gently, “Is that what you want?” “Of course I do. We can play it safe, geez, the last time we were around your family was when this started and was at its most dangerous. It’s not an affair anymore, you’re not my student anymore. If something happens then it happens, but look at you. You’re a star in your own right now, you’re an adult and your life is your life!” “It’s the family friends thing, they will go crazy. Even with the story line we made up, I doubt they’ll speak to me ever again.” “Do they know you’re seeing anyone?” “They’re vaguely aware.” Vaguely was certainly the operative word – more because you certainly expected for talk to get back to them that you had a relationship. You’d never made it sound serious to them, but you told them a little to sate their curiosity. “Well then,” He walked forward, cupping your face, “we’re on the same page and we’ll be fine.” “If you say so.” “I do, don’t you trust me?” You giggled, before leaning forward and grazing your lips to his, “No offense, but that’s a stupid question!” *** You were right, there was a lot of effort put into the wedding. There were less guests for the ceremony, but from what you’d been hearing there’d be quite the after party. As you were on your own invite, you also got the perks of a separate room to your parents. You didn’t hang around the wedding party when you arrived – you weren’t about to turn up here and make yourself a nuance - and it gave you time to relax and prepare yourself for tomorrow. You’d have to try to be on your very best behaviour, no matter what Harold had said, you didn’t want there to be any incidents. Your dress was in a colour that flattered you, covered in little appliques of your favourite flowers, sensible heels in the same colour. The opportunity to do your own make-up and hair; though you kinda missed having backstage stylists… The idea was simply to follow Harold’s lead, considering this was Tom’s wedding. He greeted you with familiarity; his ex-student who he’d seen in many a production since you’d graduated. He even seemed to indicate that you had in fact met up a few times just for general interest catch ups. To which Harold also added ‘maybe I’ll get you in to talk to my students sometime.’ Your parents did ask how exactly it was that you’d leave this detail out. ‘It’s just day to day stuff! You don’t tell me every time you see your friends-!’ Now, ‘friends’ wasn’t a word they questioned. You knew you weren’t going to get to sit next to him, but your family was sitting behind him and that was adequate, he might have only glanced back a couple of times, but they were enough to have you beaming. The ceremony was sweet, smooth sailing; they really did look in love. It gave you pause for thought – was that how you looked at Harold? Still? You’d been together a while now, but then you supposed so had Tom and Mary. Maybe that was just a wedding effect – after all, was there a more romantic day for two people? You also smiled a lot, it was such a lovely occasion to behold, even the atmosphere – like everyone was finally in the place they were meant to be. Which, considering the convoluted way this had all started that fateful summer, was fairly incredible. Harold placed his hand delicately on the small of your back, as you both left the chapel. “Don’t want you to think I don’t think you look beautiful…” You nudged him gently, “If you’ll let me return the compliment.” He chuckled, “No.” “Yes! I mean that’s got to be one of the main reasons I’m here!” His cheeks turned pink and he looked a little bashful, removing his hand from you, far enough away from everyone else to sneakily lace your fingers behind your back instead, “But I mean it.” “Thank you, that’s very sweet… Yet I’m hardly the main spectacle. It’s all stunning and her dress is flawless.” “I don’t disagree, it’s very lovely. We have the rest of the day and the party yet.” “Well alright, I know you’re privy to everything.” You smiled, “I’m just happy you’re involved.” “Hmm. It’s humbling.” “You’re his father!” “He’s spent more time with Roz. Tom didn’t have to ask me.” “Well, I suppose you can’t change my opinion… As long as you know my opinions of you!” “Oh.” He let you go as you approached the drinks reception and winked, “Yes, I would think I did!” The drinks reception and dinner afterwards had exactly the same set of increasingly hilarious conversations. You weren’t always in ear shot of each other, or in the same social circles, but everyone wanted to know about the people you were respectively dating. You were a couple of drinks in, and became much more willing to open up – to the point where you were positively gushing about him. You gave your partner no name, age, or any of the questions they were asking that would be more revealing, but were more than willing to tell the rest of the story. And when you heard him being asked roughly the same questions - and sometimes you were standing together at these points - he was doing exactly the same thing. You were surprised one of you hadn’t broke out in a beaming smile or had glowed in sweet embarrassment yet. And yet it did make you feel so happy that Harold was happy to talk about you in the same way, and every so often you’d catch each other’s eyes and you would smile just like that. There was something about both being in on such a secret; you were happy you’d decided to come and be here – even if you weren’t with him, you were most definitely with him. You didn’t approach Tom and Mary until a little later but they were both so happy to see you. And you congratulated them with about as much enthusiasm. “First up you both look gorgeous! And this wedding is so beautiful… oh my gosh, you guys!” You hugged them both tight. “Congratulations, I’m so happy for you both!” “Hey,” Tom nudged you, “What’s this I’ve been hearing about you, though!? Get him married.” “AHaha-” You excused yourself from your laugh, “I mean I dunno I… maybe.” You quickly turned the conversation back on them, “You both look so joyful, and so great together. Enjoy it, alright.” You pointed to Tom, “Extra enjoy it for me, I’ll see where I go.” “Oh, I will!” He grinned, hugging you again. You wondered if he ever had told Mary that you’d dated. You supposed it wasn’t the relationship with him you needed to worry about so much. Mary pulled you back to her, “Thank you, so much!” “Oh, you were always star material…” you squeezed her tight, “But you’re welcome. Maybe we’ll get to be in a production together soon!” “I’ll hold you to that!” She giggled, wishing you well as you let her go. You breathed a sigh of relief as you made your way back to your parents, all’s well that ends well…

***

It was a little later, after the first dance, and when everyone was moving around the party freely: everything now in full swing and at least a few of them having already having had too much alcohol, that you realised your assumption was wrong. Some people here weren’t having a good time. You were alright to sit alone and observe for now. You’d known what you were getting into. Ian, best man and from what you’d been told by Harold the one to start this whole ball rolling, was sitting around rather dejectedly. You’d watched him intently for a little while, and he seemed to be getting confrontational with just about everyone – including your man. Now he just appeared to be sulking. So much for us all being more grown up now… Eventually you’d clearly stared at him long enough to have caught his eye, and you offered somewhere between a sympathetic and fed-up smile. Attempting to give an air of ‘yeah man, I know the feeling!’ considering you were also sitting here alone, but his face just scrunched into an even bigger frown as he huffed, crossing his arms before looking away. Okay then, sorry I tried! You weren’t left alone for much longer than that, as Harold wandered over. “Hey, you doing alright over here?” “Yeah, fine.” You waved off Ian, just in case he’d seen any of that brief exchange, “Just taking some quiet time.” “Well, that’s an awful lot of quiet time…” He held his hand out for yours, “Come on, come dance.” Your eyes immediately widened, and you looked from his hand to his face, “With you!?” “No, with someone else – yes, me!” “Harry, I don’t think that we should-” “I want you to enjoy yourself… c’mon.” You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath and praying this wasn’t the worst idea you’d ever had, as you placed your hand in his and he pulled you up. “Think of it as like… a father daughter dance.” “Oh no, you just made it worse.” His laugh was embarrassed, “Oh, yeah I guess I did, didn’t I – sorry!” Harold didn’t try to make it romantic, although clearly because it was between you it was, and you supposed it was something a little reminiscent of ‘father of the bride’. Well, no one else – not even your family – was dancing with you, so why the hell not? Still you voiced the question. “Should we be doing this?” To which you were only presented with your own question: ��Shouldn’t we really be beyond caring?” You couldn’t help but laugh, “You been drinkin’?!” “Not that much, give me some credit!” Oh, the want to pull him closer, your wish to lay your head on his shoulder and close your eyes as he swayed you gently on this dancefloor. To look into his eyes like you really wanted to, and were using all your self-control to make sure you weren’t. For him to just wrap you in his embrace right now. It didn’t happen, and you didn’t expect it to, but it hurt a little. Still, here you were and he was ‘holding’ you – it was as close as you were going to get, and you savoured every single second of his skin on yours. Eventually you did actually get to dance with your father and then some younger ‘gentlemen’ (though, whether you’d call them that…) cut in and you let them dance with you the way you wished that Harold could. At least you were enjoying yourself, to you that was the most important thing. But, you ended up back over by the drinks table with your actual other half, observing the party once more, and you broached the subject of the catalyst. “What did Ian say to you?” “Huh?” He turned, bottle half way to his lips. “I mean it looked like he was getting a little irate.” Harold just looked confused, so you sighed with an eyeroll, “Earlier!” “Oh.” Then he laughed, “Well clearly he’s the least happy person at this entire wedding, and he ironically said this was all my fault.” Your eyebrows raised, “Sorry!?” “Well I did take Mary to Tom’s 21st. So, I guess… that’s where they became a little more serious.” You snorted, “Holy shit. The wedding is your fault!? But what’s wrong with the-” you looked back out to the guests and then it clicked, “Everyone was growing up… You think they ended all the affairs at home?” He gave you a face to say he agreed with your deduction, “I’m glad we didn’t get the memo.” You only laughed, “I don’t think I would have agreed to the memo!” “Now we’re on the same page-!” **

You were standing outside on the patio, admiring the stars and lit scenery, when Tom caught up with you again. “Can I ask you something?” “Yes. And you just did.” That had him laughing, and you only slipped into chuckles too, he still liked how fast you were at quipping. Suddenly you were transported back – what would this have been if it didn’t become such a mess. “Your boyfriend…” “Mhm.” You straightened to the edge in his voice, and although Tom was looking at you seriously there was a hint of playfulness to his voice. “How long have you been together?” You couldn’t tell if he’d figured you out yet. “What if I said, it’s the same guy that I first mentioned to you in that massive argument we had?” He leant back against the railing, breathing out heavily. “I feel like I should have… figured it out before now.” “Considering I don’t know what you’ve figured out – you want me to help?” “It’s my dad, isn’t it.” It wasn’t even a question. You were a little affronted by his tone: “You don’t have to make it sound so creepy. In fact, if you want me to bring up glass houses…” He was a little taken aback that you’d just admit it, “Shit, you knew about-!?” “I told you I did. Yeah, that’s how this all started, you and Ian and…” you waved your hand and then pointed at yourself, “Only I stayed with mine… Geez, I’m sorry.” “Sorry?” He laughed, “Why?” “He’s… your dad. That’s not why I dated you, it’s just how it happened.” “You don’t have to explain!” He waved his hands around, “He’s happy, you’re happy, you’ve spent a lot of time together today, I have observed, and it just… I dunno, I guess it clicked. Everything he’s said about – well you – but his other half, and everything you’ve said.” “Oh, damn, is it obvious?!” “No. I just have all the pieces, don’t I?” “You’re… a little too cool with this.” “I told you we were cool before.” Tom’s look was significant, “We’re still cool. And I’m not gonna go telling everyone, until you’re ready to go do that yourselves. Besides,” he nudged you with a smile, “you seem to have enough dirt on me!” “Uh, I would never. You go off and enjoy your married life to an amazing woman, you idiot!” “I’ll do my best – but I’m never gonna call you mom!” “I’m just glad I’m older than you!” You folded your arms with a grin as he left you, with a wave, before turning back, “Why’s that!?” “The likely inevitability of grandbabies. I’m just gonna have to be the cool aunt or something!” You didn’t think you’d heard anyone laugh so loud in a long time. ***

It continued to get later, although the party was still going on and you could hardly take it anymore. You’d watched him move around in it all day, and now all you wanted was that suit on your hotel room floor, or his. That single button he’d undone and the slacked nature of his tie was nowhere near enough for you. But it was hard to let him know that when you couldn’t just go over and grab his hand; you had to just rely on glances and hope that he got it. And clearly he did, as he crossed the room back to you. Although instead of telling you that he was ready to go, he came with a cautionary tale. “We need to be careful about this.” “And your suggestion is?” “Well, we have to stagger when we leave, but you might want to say goodbye to people. Because your parents will notice you’re gone.” “Oh, your son isn’t gonna notice you’re gone, huh?” It was then Harold decided to tell you he’d seen your conversation with Tom, “Well he knows, doesn’t he.” It wasn’t a question, and you were stuck on how to respond, “I didn’t hear, but I saw you two. Is there anything you want me to say to him?” “…Well, that’s between you…” You lowered your eyes, “I didn’t tell him, he guessed.” “Sweetheart, it’s okay.” Harold couldn’t touch you, so his nickname made you look up. “I’ll talk to him, maybe not tonight… You go, I’ll watch you, wait for me.” You nodded and he gave you a gentle wink before you both headed in different directions. You had one more drink before you started to play the tired card – although really you were far from it – and said goodbye to your parents, a few of the others you knew here, and finally bride and groom before you headed off. Outside of the reception room the hotel was cool and quiet (you supposed it was pretty late) and you could take a breather, sliding out of your heels on the steps it felt so good to be back on the floor. You wandered slowly up the corridor and across hotel reception, you weren’t exactly sure whose room you were heading to, but nearly everyone was on the same floor and you were all certainly on the same wing. You were just finding your way up the steps on the other side of reception when you heard the footfall of smart dress shoes behind you, and turned to Harold saying a goodnight to the receptionist who had pulled night shift. He continued his pace as he caught you, turning up the corridor but not before turning back and wishing you a goodnight. You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow: who were you keeping up appearances for now? Hotel staff? You shook your head and turned, finding him back at his room, apparently having trouble with his key.

“Would you like some help?” You slipped yourself between him and his room door. “If you would be so kind.” “Not sure I was talking about your room key…” You smirked, prising it from his hand, waiting for the beep to pull him to your lips by his tie, you stumbled backwards into the room as he pushed the door. Harold waited until it had closed to pull you into him, hands into your hair. It felt so good to have him touch you again, and you realised how much you’d yearned for it all day, as his hands moved down your neck and shoulders to your back, he continued to pull you closer. “God, I love you.” You almost whimpered it – kisses leaving you breathless, and you weren’t sure if that was because of the whole wedding atmosphere, or that you hadn’t had even a single chance to tell him face to face in nearly two days. But he needed to know, urgently. He chuckled, nuzzling your face with his own, “I love you too.” Your breath still caught every time he said it, even now. After having to wait so long for his first, there wasn’t anything any less special about it a hundred, a thousand, a million times later. He was still nothing ever but delicate with you, guiding you across his room to the bed before his hands collected on your shoulders again. Harold took a step back, the low level lighting set the perfect mood, but he moved his body so the moonlight could shine on you through the still open curtains. “You are so beautiful.” His fingers gathered under your chin, to keep you from shying away from his eyes as your own hands collected on his chest, ready to push his jacket down his arms. “You truly are.” As if he didn’t already affirm this nearly every day of his life, and Harold kissed you again. “Me?” Your instinctive reaction to flirting was always to nervously joke, “You look in a mirror, lately?” Harold shook his head before his lips traced yours again and he let you relieve him of his jacket, you were quick to unfurl his tie too. You stilled at the buttons of his shirt because his hands were back on your shoulders again and you relaxed your stance, releasing his lips to watch him push the straps of your dress down, guiding his hands across to the slight zip, he ghosted you a kiss in thanks before he let your dress fall to the floor. This time as you caught his collar to run through the buttons you kissed him harder, pushing your body into his – encouraging him to touch you and moaning into his kiss as you did so. His shirt was off quick and joined your dress as he deepened the kiss and you wound yourself around him, enjoying the taste on his tongue. Your kiss continued to get hot and heavy as your hands shot to his belt; he was no longer of the persuasion to stop you on bedroom thresholds, opening his body up for you to relieve him of it and undo his suit pants. Relenting as his hands caressed your back, finding your bra clasp; you always felt so fragile under those large hands of his, but all Harold ever did was take care of you. He lifted you gently from the floor and laid you both back in the sheets, kicking off his pants as he did so. You remained locked in your kiss as he caught you in an embrace, pulling your panties slowly down your legs, your breathing was a little shallower, at the friction of his hips against yours. You could hardly wait for him now, eagerly reliving him of his own underwear. “Shh shhh…” Harold gathered your hands in his, breaking the kiss and you whined, making him chuckle, “Darling, we have all night…” “…Harry…” The way you whined his name was delightful and that flicker across his eyes that he couldn’t control had you craving more of him, “please.” And you knew he wouldn’t deny you if you asked politely. “All night.” He repeated, and all you hoped was you weren’t going to be too loud when the other guests retired to their rooms for the evening. Hooking your leg over his hips he made sure you were completely comfortable before he entered you. You held him tighter, trying to stifle your moans in his skin. But he groaned gently too, and it was an exquisite little sound. In the comfortable quiet before you moved together, you kissed him gently again, reaffirming what you’d said before, “I love you.” Free to tell him all night now, you weren’t about to waste any opportunity. He rubbed his hands over your skin, sweet and delicate, “Darling I know… I’ve known that for a very long time.” He caught your lips once more, “I only hope I remain deserving of such love.” You weren’t sure why he occasionally said things like that to you, maybe sometimes he felt guilty about the whole thing, but you would only ever reassure him. He was deserving, and you knew he would always remain that way.

*** It was very early morning when you awoke, too much excitement in the air – even in the aftermath of the wedding - for you to sleep. You stood out on the balcony, watching the watery sky as the sun began to break through. Harold was content to watch you from the bed as you were draped in his shirt and the bed sheet, looking out towards the ocean. There was always something about all these ocean views… He stood and half-dressed himself before joining you, he almost didn’t want to break the silence and how serene everything was. Harold opted instead to simply stand with you, caressing your exposed skin, stroking the small of your back delicately. You wore a soft smile, and although you weren’t looking at him, he knew that he was where all your focus stayed. Eventually you tilted yourself, so your head rested against him – and the noise you made was of content. The silence remained for a long time, because there was nothing for either of you to say. Why say ‘I love you’ when you’d spent your night showing each other how in love you were, and how much you appreciated the opportunity to be with each other… There was something even more beautiful about you in the afterglow, but Harold wasn’t sure he could handle just telling you that yet. There was something about the time of day, about the time you’d just spent with him, all the joy that surrounded the wedding that made you speak honestly. Something had weighed on you for a long time; it wasn’t a bad weight, just a muse you were almost too scared to voice. But after everything, right now felt like the best and only time to say it. So you did. “Is it crazy to want this... for me to wish this could be us one day?” You couldn’t look at him for fear of becoming so embarrassed that you’d stammer ‘forget it’ and run from the room. That perhaps all you would see in Harold was hesitation, and it might break your heart in two right then and there. You assumed his answer; that he would chuckle at you, and be as lovely with you as ever but tell you not to be so stupid – this wasn’t to be your fate. That wasn’t what Harold said, and the silence didn’t hang because he didn’t know what to say, but because what you’d voice demanded the gravitas and respect of a real answer, a thought out answer. He took a breath, looking out to the sky as you were, before smiling and taking your hand, pulling your body into his embrace and kissing the crown of your head. He kept his voice low and gentle, as delicate with you as ever. Why had you expected anything less? “No. I don’t think it’s that crazy at all.”

---

Thanks so much for reading 😘🤗

#This is strangely reminiscent of the Doug Peterson thing I was going to write the second part of so I'm 99% sure I'll be writing that soon!#I actually had to change the sex scene cuz I was like /isn't that what you were gonna write for Doug/ /oh shit you're right!!/#Because this isn't technically parted I might come back to them #but I feel done with Harold for now...#I miiiiiight pull up Amanda's idea eventually if I ask nicely and she lets me!#I really like that one and it goes with that hilarious meme #Lol everyone in my head rent free and Harold and Elias just slipped under that radar and laughed at them all.#Harold #Harold x Reader #Adore #Ben Mendelsohn #193 #Laina

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usernameorwhatever · 3 years

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𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹?

There was no way Jim could keep up, not in the minivan. What the fuck was happening?! He watched the fancy car disappear in the distance, making one final turn before it was out of sight entirely. Everything was suddenly grey and numb from that moment onward...He didn’t even remember the drive home...a few hours ago, he was in the drive thru of a donut place, thinking about going to the beach or something, maybe have a date night, just do something special just the two of them after such a social weekend. But that was a few hours ago. Now he was sitting in the driveway ... minivan off, no music playing or anything since he didn’t have a playlist for whatever feeling this was. It felt like there was a hole in his chest. Like he was simultaneously empty and so full that he wanted to throw up. His gaze drifted over to the box of donuts, glaring a hole in that box because it represented a different time in his life now and he hated it for it.

Jim wasn’t sure how long he sat like that. He was startled by a knock on the window of the van. It was Dustin, asking him what he was doing. Same old Dustin. Also of average height. Greg was on the other side of the minivan — they clearly had plans. Jim reached up to run his hand through his hair before pulling on the lever to open the door. He exchanged pleasantries with Dustin and Greg for a moment, let them know that he was done with the van and that the donuts were all theirs as well. Jim didn’t hang around long enough to answer any questions — instead, he headed straight inside; the house was empty now, which was at least some small comfort. The sound of the minivan purring back to life and backing out of the driveway was the last thing he heard.

Sitting on the couch in silence, he ran over the events of the morning in his head: 1) she told him she didn’t feel good, insinuated that she wanted to be left alone. 2) immediately after saying that, he witnessed her get in her car with very formal attire ... date-like attire. 3) he followed her to a cafe where she got out of her car and went into the embrace of some guy in front of his super expensive car. 4) that guy looked like a bitch. 5) they walked in together and took a little table, just the two of them, and Anna was laughing and playing with her hair — or had his imagination filled in the hair flip? 6) after their meal, she got in his car and they left together.

Jim played with the idea of confronting her; he wrote out several text messages but then erased them all. It didn’t feel right to go in guns blazing. Each individual part was innocuous enough. A little white lie because she wanted some her time. Fine. Meeting a guy he didn’t know for brunch, BFD. He had meals with Peepee all the time, just the two of them. She got in his car and Jim hadn’t heard from her at all today. Not a peep since this morning. As much as he hated the idea of it ... puzzle pieces were only jigsaw shapes when looked at by themselves. Simple strokes of color that lacked context and could be appreciated in their simplicity. But fitting those pieces together made an image he couldn’t just ignore. So what was better? Staring at puzzle pieces ignorantly, or solving a puzzle you didn’t want to see?

Another hour or so passed by. Maybe longer. It was starting to get dark outside. Still no word from Anna. Dustin and Greg were back, and they had the wherewithal to avoid Jim at the moment. He grabbed his phone, eaten up with trepidation and irritation, and he just typed a simple “wyd?” and waited. It took a lot longer than usual for her to respond with “still sick sry I haven’t been talking🤢” to which Jim immediately replied with “maybe i should come over and bring you some medicine or something? whatever you want, and i’ll even watch those gross youtube videos with you.” And again he waited. And waited. And waited. Eventually his phone buzzed and he snatched it off the coffee table at once. “aw that’s sweet but I really just want to sleep it off. in fact i’m probably going to bed soon anyway so i’ll talk to you in the morning bye!” and that was that. Conversation over. Jim fought the urge to throw his phone. He knew she wasn’t sick. It wasn’t the truth. Why was she lying to him? She usually had no problem telling him when she wanted a night to herself. That was one of the things that worked so well between them, their respective individual time. But ... it was seeming like she wanted an out for not texting him back at all. Fine — no texts. Greg was in the kitchen getting a drink when Jim stepped onto the tile floor to grab the keys out of the little bowl on the counter. “I’ll be back.” He said in his usual lackadaisical tone, and the keys jingled in his hand as he walked through the living room and out the front door.

Jim battled with himself the whole drive, trying to will himself to turn around. This was a terrible idea. It was dark, and nothing good was going to come of this. But he just had to know. The not knowing was eating him up. Was Anna even home? Why was his trust in her suddenly shaken so badly that he wasn’t driving over to spy on her? This wasn’t him ... this wasn’t Orange Cassidy. Orange Cassidy would nonchalantly kick whoever Jim was right now. Best case scenario, her car is there and the lights are out and he feels like a prick for not trusting her. But worst case scenario....

Worst case scenario was staring him right in the fucking face.

He didn’t have to get in her driveway to see the fucking car in her driveway. The same car he’d seen earlier. The same G D car. What the fuck?! Jim glanced at the clock on the dash. Pushing 11pm. Well past the normal hours for a social visit. Rage coursed through his veins in a way he'd never ever ever felt before. White knuckles on that steering wheel, threatening to rip it off. Going to bed early, another lie. The lights were definitely still on in her place. He could make out her dark silhouette walking past a window. Very much awake. Jim didn’t need to look at the front of the box to see what this puzzle was. All the pieces fit together nice and neat ... except for his piece. No, no. His piece was all alone -- mistakenly put in the box to be cast aside when someone realized it didn't need to be there. Fine. Fine. The thought of ramming the minivan through her fucking wall passed through his mind. But he couldn’t do that to the precious vehicle. He could go knock on the door ... but why interrupt their intimate night? Nope. He made a decision right then and there to just drive home. Nothing could be done right now, and a yelling match or potential fist fight with some rich douche wouldn’t fix anything anyway. Nope. Nope. Anna didn’t want Jim to disturb her tonight and he had no intention of going against her wishes. Headlights flashed as he pulled off of her street, the red and green and orange hues flickered all around his field of vision but nothing registered; he drove simply on muscle memory alone. Jim navigated his way home in the darkness, then went straight to his room when he got back. Not even bothering to draw the covers or even take his shoes off, Jim fell face down on the bed — sure that sleep wouldn’t come easily, but hoping against hope that he’d at least have a good dream during the night. One last good dream before he did what needed to be done tomorrow.

#𝙄 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙖 𝙦𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙖 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚. writing

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lacquerware · 4 years

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2020 Recap - My Year in Gaming

2020. What a year for video games. I had big plans for last year, but in the end I did very little besides play video games, and I don’t think I’m alone there since we were all stuck at home looking for a way out of reality. I wanted to do a year-end recap as I’ve done sporadically in past years, but this one will be different than the typical “Games of the Year” format because despite all the games I played in 2020, almost none of them came out in 2020, and some of the things that defined my year in gaming weren't even games.

Resident Evil 3 Remake (PS4)

RE3 was one of the only games I played in 2020 that didn’t coincide with the deadly pandemic's spread across the US. RE3 is, of course, a game about the spread of a deadly virus in Anytown, USA. It was an appetizer, I guess.

When the Resident Evil 2 remake dropped in 2019, there were some things I loved about it, and a few things that felt like steps back from the original. I feel much the same about RE3. I had also theorized that a Resident Evil 3 remake would be better off as RE2 DLC than as a separate full-length game, and considering how short RE3 turned out, with some of the best sections of hte original cut entirely (namely, the clock tower), I stand by my theory.

Oh well, at least Jill gets this rad gun, which for the time being is the closest thing to a new Lost Planet we can hope for anytime soon.

Sekiro (PS4)

Sekiro is the first video game I ever Platinumed. This is partly because conquering the base game was such a spartan exercise that going the extra mile to get the Platinum didn’t seem so bad, but it’s also surely a result of the pandemic. I needed a project and a big win. Who didn't?

I wrote at length about why I like Sekiro more than every other modern FromSoft game, and also about the game’s cherry-on-top moment that reminded me of blowing up Hitler’s face in Bionic Commando. Please read them!

Death Stranding (PS4)

Release date notwithstanding, this was obviously the Game of 2020. I wrote about it here, here, and here. This game bears the distinction of being the second one I ever Platinumed. It took 150 hours. Only then did I learn I had a hoverboard.

Streets of Rage 4 (PS4)

This is the only 2020 game I played for more than a few hours. In fact, I cleared the entire game at least five times. I still don’t think it captures the gritty aesthetic of the prior Streets of Rages (nor even tries to), but this is probably the best-feeling bup I've played. Huge bonus points for finally bringing back Adam, but in the end I found it hard not to pick Blaze every time.

Blaster Master Zero 2 (Switch)

What impressed me about this sequel from Inti Creates was that it wasn’t just more of the same, even though that would've been fine. BMZ2 builds on its already excellent predecessor with a catchy new format where players can freely cruise the cosmos and stages take the varied form of planets—some big and sprawling, others short and sweet. Hopping at will from planet to planet without ever knowing what experiences and treasure each one held felt like system jumping in No Man’s Sky and island hopping in The Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass, both of which felt like opening presents.

Dragon Force (Saturn)

Charming, satisfying, and addictive as a bag of chips. Unlike a bag of chips, when it’s over, you can do it all again. And again. And it’ll be different each time! This might be the first strategy game I've truly loved. Better late than never.

The PC Engine Mini

The PC Engine/TurboGrafx-16 Mini seems a particularly justifiable mini-console for people outside Japan because so many missed these consoles entirely, the games are hard to obtain, and the lineup includes titles spanning the entire convoluted Turbo/PC Engine ecosystem—the TurboGrafx-CD/CD-ROM², Super CD-ROM², Arcade CD-ROM² and SuperGrafx, in addition to plain, old standard HuCard games. I myself didn’t know the first thing about these systems before. It’s like reliving the nineties again for the first time.

Most of the titles included are simple action games that don't require a command of Japanese, but make no mistake: being able to understand Snatcher and TokiMemo does make me feel like an elite special person worth more than many of you.

(Side note: From a gender representation perspective, the difference between Snatcher and Death Stranding is stark. Virtually every interaction with every woman or girl in Snatcher is decorated with ways to sexually harass her. Guess someone finally had a conversation with our favorite auteur.)

A Gaming PC

I’d threatened to transition to PC gaming for years after beholding the framerate difference between the console and PC versions of DmC in 2012, and last July I finally took the leap, buying an ASUS “Republic of Gamers” (ugh) laptop with an NVIDIA GeForce RTX 2070 Max-Q GPU. It seems like consoles are getting more PC-like all the time, especially with all these half-step iterations that splinter performance and sometimes even the feature set (à la the New 3DS and Switch Lite), so with the impending new generation seemed like a fine time to change course.

In the half-year since, I’ve barely played a single PC game more recent than 2013, but just replaying PS3-era games at high settings has been like rediscovering them for the first time.

I also finally experienced keyboard-and-mouse shooting and understand now why PC gamers think they're better than everyone else. Max Payne is a completely different game with a mouse. Are all shooters like this??

The USPS

Early in the year, I rediscovered my childhood game shop, Starland, which is now an online hub known as eStarland.com with a brick-and-mortar showroom. To my delight, it has become one of the best and most modestly priced sources for import Saturn games in the country, and I scored Shining Force III’s second and third episodes, long missing from my collection, for a mere ten bucks each!

In June, I treated myself to a trio of Saturn imports from eStarland: the tactics-meets-dating-sim mashup Sakura Taisen 2, the nicely presented RTS space opera Quo Vadis 2, and beloved gothic dungeon crawler Baroque. Miraculously, this haul amounted to just around thirty dollars total. Less miraculously, they never arrived. This was the second time I’d had something lost in the mail in my entire life, and also the second time that month. Something was wrong with the USPS, and it wasn’t just COVID pains. We would soon learn Trump had been actively working to sabotage one of the nation’s oldest and most reliable institutions in a plot to compromise the upcoming presidential election.

Frankly it’s a miracle there’s still such a thing as “delivery” at all, and a few missing video games is the last of my worries considering what caused it, but nevertheless this was an experience in my gaming life that could not have happened any other year. I won’t forget it.

*By the way, USPS reimbursed me for the insured value of the missing order, which was fifty bucks. So I actually profited a little off the experience.

Mega Everdrive Pro

I love collecting for the Genesis and Mega Drive, but I will not pay hundreds of dollars for a video game that retailed for about sixty. The publishers never asked for that, and the developers won’t see a (ragna)cent of the money. I'm also far less inclined to start collecting for Sega CD, since the hardware is notoriously breakable, the cases are huge and also breakable, and the library just isn't that good.

Still, I'd been increasingly curious about the add-on as an interesting piece of Sega history, so when I learned Ukranian mad scientist KRIKzz had released a new Mega Everdrive that doubled as a Sega CD FPGA, I finally took the plunge into the world of flash carts. This has proven a great way to play some of the Mega Drive’s big-ticket rarities I will never buy—namely shmups like Advanced Busterhawk Gley Lancer and Eliminate Down—as well as try out prospective additions to the collection. I never would have discovered the phenomenal marvel of engineering and synth composition that is Star Cruiser without this thing, but now that I have, it’s high on the shopping list.

The Mega Everdrive Pro is functionally nearly identical to TerraOnion’s “Mega SD” cartridge, but slightly less expensive, comes in a “normal” cartridge shell instead of the larger Virtua Racing-style one, and supports a single hardworking dude in Ukraine rather than a company with reportedly iffy customer service.

Twitch

Getting a PC also resolved issues that had long prevented me from achieving a real streaming setup, and much of my gaming life in 2020 was about ramping up my streaming efforts. I even made Affiliate in about a month. Streaming has been a great creative outlet and distraction, as well as a way to connect with other people during the COVID depression and structure my gaming time. Find me every Monday through Thursday 8-11pm Eastern at twitch.tv/lacquerware.

Metroid: Other M (Dolphin)

PC ownership also gave me access to the versatile Dolphin emulator, liberating a handful of great Wii exclusives from their disposable battery-powered prison.

One of the Wii games I fired up on Dolphin was Metroid: Other M, a game I’d always wanted to try but had been dissuaded by years of bad publicity and the fact that I never had any goddamn batteries. I know I should temper what I’m about to say by acknowledging that I was playing at 1080p/60fps on a PS4 controller so my experience was automatically a vast improvement over that of all Wii players, but I’m increasingly confident Metroid: Other M was the most fun I’ve ever had playing a Metroid game. I haven’t decided yet if I’m willing to die on this hill, but I will just say that if you like the Metroidvania genre in general and aren’t particularly attached to the Metroid series’ story or its habit of making you wander aimlessly for hours, there’s a very high chance you will enjoy Other M—especially if you play it on Dolphin.

Don't Starve Together (PC)

Don't Starve is the only game my friend Jason plays, so last year I tried to get into it with him. I respect this game's singular devotion to the concept of survival, but make no mistake: every session of Don't Starve ends with you starving to death. Or freezing. Or getting stomped by a giant deity of the forest. The entire game is staving off death until it inevitably comes. Even when death comes, you can revive infinitely (in whatever mode we were playing), which means even death is not an end goal. There is no end goal. You don't even have the leeway to "play" and create your own meaning as you do in similarly zen games like Dead Rising.

Don't Starve is a game for people for whom hard work is the ultimate reward in and of itself. Don't Starve told me something about Jason.

G-Darius (PS1)

In the early fall, Sony announced they were dropping PS3, PSP, and Vita support from the browser and mobile versions of their PSN Store, and since the PS3 version of the store app runs like a solar-powered parking meter in Seattle, I decided this was my last chance to stock up on Japanese PSN gems.

Among my final haul, the PS1 port of G-Darius proved an instant favorite. Take down the usual cast of mechanized fish in a vibrant, chunky, low-poly style that perfectly inhabits the constraints of the original PlayStation hardware. I believe this is the first Darius game that lets you get into giant beam duels with the bosses, which is quite definitely one of the coolest things a video game has ever let you do. The PS1 port is also surprisingly feature-rich, including some easier difficulty levels that present an actually surmountable challenge for non-savants.

This one’s coming to the upcoming Darius Cozmic Revelation collection on Switch alongside DARIUSBURST, a good-ass romp in its own right.

Red Entertainment

In my effort to shine a tiny spotlight on some of the unsung Interesting Games of gaming, I found myself drawn again and again to the work of Red Entertainment. First there were cavechild headbutt simulator Bonk’s Adventure and twin shmups Gates of Thunder and Lords of Thunder on the PC Engine Mini. Then I streamed full playthroughs of the PS2’s best samurai-era, off-brand 3D Castlevania, Blood Will Tell and the Trigun-adjacent stand-‘n-gun, Gungrave: Overdose. Then I was dazzled by Bonk’s Adventure’s futuristic spin-off cute-‘em-up, Air Zonk, which was also sneakily tucked away on my PC Engine Mini in the “TurboGrafx-16” section. It turned out all these games were made by the same miracle developer responsible for Bujingai, the stylish PS2 wushu game starring Gackt and a household name here at the Lacquerware estate. How prolific can one team be???

Month of Cyberpunk

In November, I started toying with the idea of themed months on my Twitch channel with “Cyberpunk month.” It was supposed to be a build-up to Cyberpunk 2077’s highly anticipated November release, but holy shit that didn’t happen, did it? Still, I always find myself gravitating toward this genre in November, I guess because I associate November with gloom (even though this year it was sunny almost every day). A month is a long time to adhere to a single theme, but cyberpunk is such a well-served niche in gaming that I could easily start an all-cyberpunk Twitch channel. The fact that we’re so spoiled with choice makes Cyberpunk 2077’s terrible launch all the more embarrassing. Here are just some of the games I played (and streamed!) in November:

Ghostrunner Shadowrun (Genesis) RUINER Remember Me Transistor Rise of the Dragon (Sega CD) Shadowrun (Mega CD) Cyber Doll (Saturn) Binary Domain Shadowrun Returns Blade Runner (PC) Deus Ex: Human Revolution Deus Ex: Mankind Divided Observer

Shadowrun on the Genesis gets my top pick, but the two most recent Deus Ex games are great alternatives for those looking for something in the vein of 2077 that isn’t infested with termites.

Lost Planet 2

Every year. I played through it twice in 2020.

Dead Rising 4

I slept on this one too long. While it's a far cry from the original game, it's easily the most fun I've had with a Christmas game since Christmas NiGHTS. This is the game a lot of people thought they were getting when they bought the original Dead Rising with their new Xbox 360--goofy, indulgent, and pressure-free.

Devil May Cry 5: Vergil (PS4)

Vergil dropped for last-gen consoles in December and breathed a whole lot of life into a game that was already at the head of its class.

Nioh 2

I’ve only played a few hours of Nioh 2 because I promised my friend I’d co-op it with him and wouldn’t play ahead. But he’s a grad student with two small children. Nevertheless, Nioh 2 is my Game of 2020.

And that's it! Guess I'll spend 2021 playing games that came out last year, and maybe eventually getting vaccinated? Please?

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kumeko · 4 years

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A/N: I’m having fun writing this. Part 3 of the @marveltrumpshate fic I wrote for @wombatking

Summary: There was something luxurious about waking up at 7:30am, to an empty room, with an empty bathroom, and the kitchen all to herself. Kitty hit the jackpot.

…

There was something luxurious about waking up at 7:30am. Absolutely luxurious. Kitty wanted nothing more than to sprawl over her bed, languidly stretching before she finally rolled off. Unfortunately, her right leg was a dead weight to all of this, so she had to settle for lazily yawning and spreading her arms above her. The birds had been awake for hours, her dormmates equally so, and she had the most glorious sleep. She hadn’t even noticed when Rogue had left for training, her roommate for once not waking her up with her extensive morning prep.

For a girl who claimed that she didn’t care what others thought of her, she spent an awfully long time in front of the mirror. Kitty chuckled at the thought. Rogue was full of strange contradictions and the more she learned, the more she liked. It was strange to think that at one point they’d fought like cats and dogs.

Well, if Kitty were honest, they still fought sometimes now, but they always made up after.

It was harder than she expected, to get off the bed. Her leg felt weird, her movements even more so—her legs didn’t feel in sync, her left far too light and quick, her right too slow and heavy. Walking was a strange hop and dance. Dressing even more so. She half-wished she had Velcro pants, like the ones Spike used for his stupid “my pants ripped off!” joke. The only problem was that they were ugly. On the bright side, she was more than used to putting a little pain in for her fashion.

As she passed by a window, she caught sight of Jean and Amara running through the obstacle course, sweaty and tired. “Glad that’s not me,” she murmured, grinning as she stepped into the for-once-empty bathroom.

She’d been wrong. The best part of her broken leg wasn’t sleeping in, it was the fact that there was no rush. No one knocked on the door, asking her to get out. Kitty didn’t have to bounce impatiently on her feet, waiting for the door to open so she could rush in. Nope, the bathroom was all hers, for however long she wanted.

So was the kitchen, so was the tv—if she’d realized how good it was, she’d have broken her leg ages ago. Maybe in six weeks she could break the other one. Chewing on a piece of toast, she idly flipped through the channels. News, weather, Say Yes to the Dress, Psycho—

“Ready to go?” Scott said, suddenly appearing behind her.

Kitty almost dropped her toast, surprised. Instinctively, she turned off the TV, flushing a bright red. “I, that—” She wasn’t even sure why she was feeling flustered. This was fine! Technically allowed! No one expected otherwise!

Yet it was one thing to relax when no one was around, and another to do it in front of her slightly sweaty housemate. Scott’s hair might be carefully combed, but his skin still had a light sheen to it from all the exercise. Noticing her stare, he cocked his head. “What’s wrong?”

He’d always been a slightly dense brick. Fighting back her embarrassment, Kitty scarfed down her toast and stood up. “N-nothing. Let’s go.”

“Alright then. I pulled my car up front, so just slip in.” Scott picked up her backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “You know, instead of a reality show, you should try watching the news.”

If Kitty could have, she would have stomped to the car.

-x-

“Hey girl!” Kitty got no other warning before a pair of slightly tanned arms wrapped around her neck, hugging her tight. Tabitha pressed her cheek against Kitty’s, her messy hair tickling her neck. As usual, her perfume was as loud as she was. “Heard you got hurt.”

“Tabitha!” Kitty laughed, leaning into her friend. She’d been getting lonely anyways, sitting in the playground as she was. Kurt had gone to get lunch and unfortunately the track team wasn’t practicing, so she couldn’t even stare at them. “Did Amara tell you?”

“Didn’t have to, I have eyes.” Tabitha let go and rested her hands on her hips. “I hear Blue is now two for two for training accidents?”

“It was my fault this time, not his.” Kitty rubbed her neck sheepishly. To be honest, the other time hadn’t been entirely his fault either—Tabitha had a little to do with it. Gesturing at her leg, she explained, “I broke my leg, so now I’ve got that ugly thing.”

“I know training sucks, but I didn’t think you’d go that far to get out.” Tabitha whistled as she saw the cast. “Damn, that’s clunky.”

“I know, right! It’s like I have snowpants or something.” Kitty rapped on the top of her cast. “It’s so thick! I don’t want to know what’ll smell like after all of this heat.”

“You’re lucky it isn’t summer, or you’d be roasting in it.” Tabitha scrunched her nose, her lips curling with disgust. “Broke my arm once, on a job, and not only was I utterly useless after, I reeked like Toad.”

“Seriously?” Kitty didn’t have to ask to know what sort of ‘job’ she was referring to. Wincing, she looked at her cast again. Tabitha had to be exaggerating, right? “It’s not that bad, right? I can’t get it off for six weeks. I don’t want to deal with smell on top of everything.”

“Just spray some perfume on it.” Tabitha winked. She mimed spraying it on. “Works like a charm.”

“Eww.” Kitty glared at the offending cast, her heart sinking. Just how stinky could the thing get? She groaned. “So either I smell like Toad or a flowershop.”

“Hey, the choice is yours.” Tabitha grinned, shrugging. “I bet Logan won’t like either smell.”

“I don’t think Rogue or Kurt will like it either.” Resigning herself to her fate, she hoped they’d still hang around her after six weeks were up.

“Cheer up, it’s not that bad. You get a lot of sympathy goodies.” Tabitha crouched next to the cast, a marker in hand. She started doodling something, just out of Kitty’s sight. “People open doors for you, give you seats, sometimes even food—”

“You shouldn’t eat things strangers give you,” Kitty warned, worried about that last one. Sometimes, she was amazed Tabitha made it to high school. More often, though, she was impressed the school hadn’t burned to the ground multiple times, considering her short temper. “And what’re you drawing?”

“You’ll see!” Tabitha replied cheekily, her brow furrowed as she finished her masterpiece.

Kitty rolled her eyes. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

“I’m pretty good at that, ask anyone.” Tabitha smirked up at her. “How’re the geeks taking this? Bet Logan ain’t happy.”

“They’re like, the only bad part.” Kitty grimaced, remembering Scott’s lectures. And she had to get a ride from him for the next six weeks—her mornings were going to be so ruined. “I swear, Scott and Jean won’t shut up about it, and Logan’s just counting down the days till he can make me suffer again.”

Tabitha stood up now, laughing. “Sounds like ‘em.” Hand on her hip, she gave her a wry look. “Honestly, you should just ditch that whole scene and join me. It might not be the best place to stay, but it’s the funnest.”

There was absolutely no way Kitty was staying in that rundown house the brotherhood claimed was ‘livable’. She’d been there a handful of times, and each time she wasn’t sure how the place hadn’t been torn down. At the very least, it had to be filled with lice or something. “I’m not that desperate.”

“Yet.” Tabitha pocketed her marker and waved before waltzing away. “Lemme know if you change your mind.”

“Not happening!” Kitty laughed, watching as a garbage bin exploded.

-x-

Kitty lay on her bed, examining her cast by her tablelamp light. It was, perhaps, the first time she’d gotten to use that thing without having to cram for a test or something. Today was actually full of firsts—she finished her homework without having to rush, she had dinner on time, and hey, she saw an episode of her favourite drama on time instead of catching a rerun.

Even now, she was lying in her bed, at 11pm, and not bone-tired for once. Across the room, Rogue snored lightly as she slept, too tired from training to complain about the light. The house was utterly silent at that this time and if it weren’t for the lights-out rules, she’d have snuck around to see just how different the house was at night.

For now, she bent over her cast, running her fingers along the different signatures she’d collected. After Tabitha had signed it, the rest of her friends popped in, one after another, all ready to make a mark. The once white cast was now a collage of signatures and messages. Rogue had written her name in purple ink, with nothing else added to it, and Kitty couldn’t figure out if it was because she didn’t have anything she wanted to write, or if it was because she was too embarrassed to put anything.

Feel better soon, Honey, Kurt had written in blue ink, and Kitty smiled as she pressed her fingers on the pink heart he’d drawn beside his name. It was utterly cheesy, but she liked that about Kurt.

There was a picture of a grumpy Logan next to Spike’s name, and Kitty covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. He was a terrible artist, and that only made it funnier. Logan was either a furious hedgehog or he was some new evolution of a bear. Definitely not human, at the very least.

Finally finished with all the easy to read signatures, Kitty leaned forward and strained her neck to see what was on the back of her cast. More importantly, to see what Tabitha had spent so long drawing. Biting her tongue and squinting, she could just make out the picture.

It was a dick.

Of course it was. She flopped back on her bed, and silently swore revenge.

#xmen #kurtty #kitty pryde #kurt wagner #xmen evolution #nightcrawler #shadowcat #fanfic

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sleepywinchester · 4 years

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Behind The Story S2 - Pt 29

Summary: Another shooting season is ending, after being apart for what it seemed like years, you are meeting Jensen in Vancouver.

Author: sleepywinchester (prev. deanwinchester-af)

Characters: Jensen, Reader, Jared, Gen and Cast Cameos.

Pairings: Single!Jensen x Actress!Reader (Nina Dobrev = Faceclaim)

Words: 1.5k

Beta: N/A

Warnings: implied smut :)

Visual: n/a

Disclaimer: NO HATE TOWARDS DANNEEL!

We wuv her in this acc but this is just for science lol

Author’s Note: Hola everybody! I hope everyone is staying safe in their homes and that your families and elderly ones are safe as well. For my fellow essential workers, hang in there! I know its hard to be working through this difficult times but this shall be over soon. Hope this chapter entertains you guys :’) I am going to be honest, the last chapters of BTS is just a bunch of behind the story details and more about them and how are they living their life. Not drama, not really a plot, just experiences. I didn’t want to add a whole crazy plot as I am finishing this story. Either way, I hope you guys still like it. I wanna know all the feelings. As always; hope you guys like this one ♥

>>> side note: these are the last chapters ever i am not adding anyone to the tag list.

Title:

MASTERLIST

It has been a couple of months since the last time you were in an airplane. Before taking a break from being a full-time actress, you practically lived inside of one. Since you became a full-time stay at home mom, it was very rare for you to be inside of one of these steel birds. You found flying oddly satisfying and peaceful, which is otherwise for most people. It has been three weeks since you saw Jensen and you could not wait a single day more without being in his arms. The entire long-distance relationship was harder than usual. The wait was going to be over soon, soon as thirty more minutes you were going to see your husband and you could not be happier.

You and Jensen have been planning a “baecation” for months and the date was finally here. JJ was home in Austin with your mother and father who practically moved to your house to take care of her. It was bittersweet to leave her in the states but the trip wasn’t really toddler-friendly. Instead, you had committed to planning a second vacation, a family one, before the summer ended.

Your thoughts were up in the clouds when a ‘bop’ noise caught your attention.

Jensen: “Can’t wait to be in Africa with you.”

A smile formed on your face at the message from Jensen.

“I can’t wait to be in our hotel tub with you ;)’ You replied feeling slightly flirtatious.

“Do not start with your frisky texts when you’re hundreds of miles above the ground…. Too far from me to do anything about it.”

That message made you chuckle and caught the attention of the elderly lady next to you. Shaking your head, you leaned more against the window and continued to text your husband.

“Why not? If you think about it, I am just building the mood...”

You glanced at the three dots for a couple of seconds before receiving a reply.

“Yes, but we won’t be alone until later today…”

You bit your lower lip, “Then I’ll just have to make up for the time lost.”

“You’re something else…” He replied.

“And you love me for that,” you smiled after sending send.

You looked at the three dots transform into a new text from him.

“I do. Gotta go back to shooting. To. Be. Continued…” Jensen sent.

In that moment something came up to your mind, a marvelous and sexy idea. You haven’t done this in months, but it wasn’t surely your first time trying it. Standing up from your seat and giving the elderly lady an apologetic smile, you went into the plane’s bathroom.

You were wearing a buttoned white top, looking at your reflection in the tiny mirror your smirked. This was going to be the start of a romantic vacation. After undoing most of the buttons of your top, you adjusted your breast in a provocative way. You were wearing your hair down and to the side, adding a little bit of spice by running your fingers through your hair and making it a messy look. Grabbing your phone, you opened the camera app and snapped a couple of provocative pictures of yourself.

Opening Jensen’s conversation, you inserted the pictures and wrote. “Gosh, I reaaaaally can't wait to see you.” And after that the very provocative photo was sent to your husband.

You fixed yourself into a more presentable matter and turned your hair into a bun. Walking back you smirked as you found your seat and leaned against the window. Doing that felt like you had some sort of dirty secret. The smirk on your face grew wider when you heard your phone beep.

“You will be the death of me woman.” Jensen replied.

“I am just trying to show how much I miss you,” you replied.

After that reply you let your husband go to work and you took a power nap because you were sure there was no way you were going to have any sleep tonight.

/ / /

“Hey Cliff!” you greeted with enthusiasm as you got into the black SUV.

Cliff was picking you up at the airport since Jensen was still shooting on set. It has been a while since he drove you anywhere and you were very happy to be in his presence. He smiled and continued to put your suitcases in the trunk.

“How was the flight?” Cliff asked.

You pouted for a second then bit your lower lip as you glance outside the window. It took you a couple seconds to figure out a way to explain the previous semi-frisky event.

“It was… good,” you curved the corners of your lips.

He shot a glance through the rear mirror and smirked. “That’s good, my last flight was full of turbulence,” he said.

“I am so happy that wasn’t the case for mine,” you replied.

“How’s JJ?”

You instantly smiled, “She’s good and very happy with my overly consenting parents. I am telling you those two give her enough candy to crawl a twenty story building.”

Cliff laughed at your comment, “That’s what grandparents are for.”

You chuckled, “Agreed.”

At that moment your mother called you via Facetime. Picking the call the first face you see is your daughter’s face covered in chocolate.

“See? Told you she would be eating some candy by now,” you say as you looked at the screen. “Hey baby! How are you?”

“Good,” she replied with her small cheeks stuffed with candy. “Candy!!” She showed the chocolate bar.

“I see,” you said with a smile, “grandma giving you all the candy you want?”

JJ nodded her head and passed the phone to your mom.

“Mom,” you said, “she won’t let you guys sleep tonight.”

Your mom shrugged with no care in the world, “I don’t care - I will stay up until tomorrow for her.”

“You say that now,” you said with a smirk. “She looks too cute.”

JJ was sitting on top of your mom’s lap, bouncing with happiness as she ate her piece of candy.

“She is the cutest,” your mom kissed the top of her blonde head.

Tonight was the last night of Jensen shooting for season fourteen. It wasn’t the last season but you surely felt like the time was coming. The feeling was very bittersweet. This show was the beginning of so many good things for you and your family and it ending was a very sad thing to think about.

A smile formed on your lips when you saw that Cliff was approaching the familiar white gates.

“We’re here,” he said - greeting the guards with a head gesture.

You smiled at them, glancing at the familiar faces and trailers laying around. Cliff drove directly to the one trailer you have been dying to be since this morning. When he finally parked you quickly hopped off the SUV. He followed you and got your bags off the trunk.

At that moment Jensen was walking out of his trailer with the biggest smile on his face.

“Babe!” You shouted, running towards him.

The people around you might think that you guys were overacting a little, you two were married and there was no way you two could still be this excited to see each other. They all were wrong, you and Jensen still got excited to see each other after all these years. Yes, some days will be normal days and not like big scenes that looked like they were brought out a Hallmark movie but when you build the anticipation of seeing the person you love, most of your reunions look like a scene from a romantic movie. And it surely felt like it.

You jumped to his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as he wrapped his around your body. Kissing Jensen’s lips felt like home.

“I’ve,” you began to talk between kisses, “missed - you - so - much.”

Jensen let out a laugh, kissing you one more time as he hold you tightly. “Missed you too, babe.”

“I guess my job is done,” Cliff stood by the SUV. “Am I driving you guys home or you driving?” He looked at Jensen.

“I actually have to stay one more night here, we got a delay and we have to do a night shoot,” Jensen looked at you. “Sorry babe.”

You shrugged, “It’s alright. I can stay with you in the trailer and we can leave for the airport from here tomorrow.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Cliff asked. “I can take you to the apartment - I don’t mind.”

“It’s okay, Cliff,” you said. “I’ll stay.”

He nodded, “Alright. I’ll pick you guys tomorrow for the airport.”

Jensen nodded, “Thanks, man. See ya.”

Cliff turned and got into the SUV. You looked at Jensen in the eyes, they were dark and mysterious but his smirk gave you an idea of what he was thinking.

“So…” you pulled him closer and kissed his lips. “At what time you have to shoot?”

Jensen looked at his watch, “11pm.”

“Oh - we got time,” you said walking into the trailer.

/ / /

“Jesus Christ,” you gasped for air, “that was-”

“So fucking good,” Jensen let out, also catching his breath.

You looked at his eyes, leaning forward and kissing his lips. Both enjoying the bliss of the moment. He caressed your lower back softly as you looked at his chest slowly going up and down.

“I’ve missed you so much, Jensen,” you said.

He grinned, giving you another soft kiss, “Me too, babe.”

Suddenly someone was banging at the door of Jensen’s trailer. You let out a soft groan as you turned and got off the bed, then continued into the bathroom.

Jensen stood up from the bed, sliding into some sweatpants that were near his bed. The door was still getting banged up.

“If its Jared, I’m fucking killing him,” you shouted from the bathroom.

“Not before I do,” Jensen said before opening the door.

It was Jared indeed.

“Dude?” Jensen furrowed his eyebrows.

Jared looked at him confused, “Why you’re not dressed? We need to go like ASAP.”

“What time is it?” Jensen asked oblivious.

“Freaking 10:30!” Jared shouted and walked into the trailer.

“Dude-,” Jensen began to talk but you walked out of the bathroom wearing a robe.

“Surprise!” You smiled to Jared.

Jared looked at you with wide eyes before turning to Jensen. “You guys were fucking.”

“Yes we were,” you said proudly walking to the fridge, “ and you just interrupted us.”

Jared looked at you and laughed as you grabbed water from the fridge. You and him talked briefly about the trip to Africa as Jensen quickly got a shower and got dressed. In the beginning it was supposed to be a couples retreat but Gen was too far in her pregnancy to travel.

“I’m ready,” Jensen walked out, holding your lower back. “See you in the morning?”

“Mhm,” you kissed his lips. “I’ll finish your packing.”

“Thanks,” he said before walking out.

@flawsweirdo @sis-tafics @torn-and-frayed @blacktithe7 @ruined-by-destiel @kazchester-fanfiction @xtina2191 @padackles2010 @adriellej @chickenmcsade @nokillzforu @faith-in-dean @thing-you-do-with-that-thing@supernaturalyobessed@feelmyroarrrr@latinenglishfandomblog @fandommaniacx @purgatoan @capsofwinchesters @deansbaekaz2y5 @danijimenezv @jayankles @fuckingpisces @mskitty416 @starswirlblitz @sam-w @doro7winchester @silver-and-green @sydneymarie101195 @smoothdogsgirl @ivvitm1109 @hobby27 @typicalweirdbookworm @thisismysecrethappyplace

#jensen x reader #single!jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles rpf #spn fanfiction #mine #bts #behind the story

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polandspringz · 4 years

Text

Director’s Cut(?) For “I’d Rather Be Dry” Chapter 4

So the reason for the question mark is because I don’t think there is a lot to really comment on in terms of this chapter, but there were a lot of funny moments from my beta-reader again that I wanted to share! As always, my beta-reader ( @primal-shitposts) is in pink. Here we go-

There is much to see here other than my touch starved self is being reflected in my writing and Primal is calling me out on that. Although, this entire fic I was just trying to get through so I could write this ONE Barbatos scene, so I guess it was a scene that I just put a lot of myself into once I got here.

Since I’m still in lesson 15, I still haven’t personally sat through all of the timeline stuff of lesson 16. I spoiled the game for myself a long time ago to make sure my writing was correct, but the timeline conversation in this chapter was inspired by a few posts (and I think even tiktoks?) of people discussing angst theories of the brothers in the original timeline being alone without MC. I hate that idea and it keeps me up at night with anxiety!!! So, I hinted at it here of Barbatos forever being unsure of things, despite being a ruler of time, but ultimately I’m on the side of the timelines merging. The only time travel I’ve ever been happy with in media (besides Back to the Future) would be stories like Kagepro, which treats time travel like restarting a video game in an attempt to get the good ending, and DQXI, where time travel is more “magic” than science and characters recall things from the other future but faintly, like a past life. If anything, I would love to write something of the brothers experiencing something like that, with the timelines merging, them all regaining memories of the other routes, or having faint dreams or deja vu of things, rather than them just being a “new” group of brothers.

After this, Primal began counting down to when they thought characters were going to kiss.

Luke is a baby, and I feel bad for not giving him much of his own scene in this fic. (His got swallowed by Simeon’s scene) Maybe I’ll give him and MC there own short fic soon.

I can’t explain this nickname other than it was very impulse and all of this fic after Barbatos’ scene was written today, after I had taken a nap from 9pm-11pm and then stayed up all night, eventually typing this around 6 AM. My creativity somehow worked while I was half dead, but it feels like I was channeling Howl with that line. It just felt like a good pet name for Simeon considering his whole celestial shtick and outfit.

I have no comments on this. I sort of wish I had written something more comedic instead of almost 25k words of angst.

Again, I was on no sleep, so I could’ve just looked in the mirror to help with the description, but I ran out of words to describe dark circles.

Here begins the kiss countdown:

For the longest time when writing this fic, I knew Solomon’s scene was going to be the scene with the angels asleep, I just didn’t realize right away how many characters I would be fitting on one bed at the time.

I didn’t intend for this line to be read in a sort of “magical girl” or frivolous voice, actually. When I wrote it, I thought of it more serious, with emphasis not on “power of love” like the “power of friendship! :D” theme but more like “the power that his love for me holds over him”.

I think some readers might find MC’s decision to not have the demons killed controversial in a way, but I’ve read so many fics when the brothers just straight up kill a demon in front of MC or while they’re looking away. I felt like that wouldn’t be good on someone’s conscious, and some I went for a more merciful route, but that doesn’t necessarily mean MC themselves has forgiven their attackers. It was just being the bigger person.

Legitimately, this concept of the “promise” wasn’t in the fic until chapter 2, when I offhandedly decided to write MC and Mammon making a new promise. It then became a big idea I knew I needed to resolve at some point, and it was going to be at the end of chapter 3, but it worked better in chapter 4. In a way, this was my version of a more serious take on the joke of MC being the “family therapist”. They don’t want their hard work to go to waste, but its coming more from a place of love and genuine concern.

Final Kiss Countdown:

So, that’s the end of “I’d Rather Be Dry!” If It wasn’t obvious, the title for the fic came from the song of the same name. I’m not a huge fan of Lady Gaga & Ariana Grande, I just happened to be looping the song while writing chapter 1, and found part of the lyrics played in well to what I wanted to get at with the ending. (Of MC refusing to delete their pain because all that matters is that they’re alive) I did enjoy writing this fic, it was just unfortunate that my Barbatos loving brain decided to focus so hard on getting to the end of the fic in made writing the middle parts harder. Either way, I hope you enjoyed! I’ll be posting more Obey Me works soon!

#obey me #obey me mc #obey me masters #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me fic #fanfic #my writing #writing

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softstraykidsimagines · 5 years

Text

Variety show

Summary: You and Jeongin, by some happy (or not?) coincidence, ended up on the same variety show, but could you both keep your relationship a secret with prying questions?

Requested: yes

Pairing: Jeongin x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, idol AU

Word count: 3.5k words

Warnings: written at 11pm, so probs sometimes weird sounding and im too tired to check

A/N: 1) don’t even ask me abt the group name idek what i was thinking. 2) DAmn sON i didn’t mean to make it this long. 3) fun fact: at first this was gonna be a comedic bulletpoint story, then i changed it to a feeble emotional roller coaster (i really do mean feeble af). 4) i hope you like it <33

MASTERLIST

“Please welcome our wonderful guests, Five Times Brighter!!!”, called the MC, followed by the cheers from the audience. One by one your group members and yourself filed out onto the small stage to greet the crowd. You were quickly ushered into a seat, where you could witness the sheer amount of people who had come to watch, obscured slightly by the blinding glare of the stage lights.

You felt your throat tighten. This better work out, you thought, feeling ill at ease by knowing there must have been at least ten cameras pointed at you and your comrades. What would we do if anyone found out? You shook your head violently with a pout. Stop it. Nothing’s gonna happen. You’re overreacting...

You were jolted out of your thoughts by the voice of the MC as he raised his voice again. “And now please welcome the rookie legends themselves! The great award winners, Stray Kids!!!” The room erupted into screams of fans as the nine handsome boys jogged out from backstage.

Your stomach did an uncomfortable somersault. Don’t make eye contact! If you do, someone will definitely notice!! Then you’re finished!!! You mentally slapped yourself and took a deep breath. You then realized that you’d placed your index and middle finger against your throat, an uncanny imitation of Felix taking his pulse as he became nervous. You’d somehow picked up the habit from the cute Aussie boy as you hung out with him at the same time as Jeongin. With a gulp, you slammed your hand back onto your lap and stared unemotionally at the boys as they sat on the other couch across from you from the MC’s center chair.

When everyone had sat down, the room went annoyingly quiet. You swallowed back anger as you waited for the MC to ask something and distract you. Finally:

“First, I’d like to ask both groups if they could tell us what inspired certain songs in their album”. Some applause followed as you forced your muscles to relax. “Should we ask FTB first?” The crowd cheered.

Your smile started becoming a little more genuine. Nothing bad, just a mindless answer to your average question. The ‘What inspired you to write X’ question was always a default for some reason. But at least it was eas-

“Y/n!” The blood drained from your face at your name. Oh... oh no... “A little birdie told me”, the MC said cheekily, “that you wrote one of the most successful songs on the album. ‘Winged love’, wasn’t it?”

You started to loath the MC, or whoever had decided that that specific question would be a good one. It’s true, you had written and composed the song, but your inspiration was exactly what you wanted to avoid, as your mind flashed to moment you got the idea for the lyrics.

~~~~~~~~~

“Try to pick your feet up a bit more here”, you said, poking Jeongin’s leg as he posed awkwardly in front of the practice room mirror. He groaned in retaliation, muscles trembling from exhaustion.

“I can’t do it”, he whined. “It’s useless. Just go on without me and practice on your own. You’ll do so much better without me dragging you down”.

You scoffed without any amusement. “Like Hell I will. I’m staying right here until you can get this. I said I’d help, so I’m helping”. He gave you a pitiful look, and you smiled softly. “Let’s take a break, then. I’ve got biscuits!”

“I don’t usually eat at this hour”, Jeongin said hesitantly.

“You don’t usually practice at this hour”, you answered matter-of-factually. You didn’t wait for an answer and dragged your boyfriend down to the floor, rolling to your side and grabbing a huge packet full of snacks and tearing it open mercilessly. You offered one to the boy in front of you, who conceded with a sigh. “Cheers!” You knocked your biscuit against his, making a couple of crumbs fall to the ground, and shoved the entire thing into your mouth. Jeongin stared at you until you made a face, cookie still lodged between your cheeks, making him burst into laughter. You fought not to spit your snack out as you sniggered with him.

“How do you do that”, he asked.

“Mmmfmm ru wha”, you said, still trying to down your food.

“Always find a way to make me feel so much better, no matter how battered I feel”, he said, mesmerized. You stared at him uselessly, so he continued. “When I’ve been at my worst, or when I’ve felt like giving up, you’ve been there to pick me up. You’re like my pair of wings”. You stayed quiet, scared to knock him out of his reverie. He smiled faintly. “At this point, I could jump off a mountain, trusting you to catch me if you said you would. And I always feel safe with you. No matter what scares me, I feel better when you’re next to me, as if you’ve become a hypothetical shield. And I want to be the same, I want to always be there for you, whenever you’re feeling down, I want to be the first person you think of going to”. He suddenly curled his fingers and squeezed his eyes shut. “That was so cringey I’m sorry”.

You giggled softly and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s a little cliche, I admit. But it’s the best kind of cliche. Because I feel the same way”. You lifted your head kissed his cheek. “I’ll always be right here. And I’ll always trust you to be there too”.

~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes came back into focus, as your mind started racing, scrounging for a decent story that could convince the public that it had nothing to do with the very boy who was sitting only five feet from you.

“Uh-uhhh”, your mind became completely blank. “My... One of my old friends”. You cleared your throat. “Whenever she was upset, I would want to do anything to make her feel better. And I did do some pretty stupid things”. You smiled sheepishly at the pitch black half of the room where the fans giggled in reaction to your stutter. Your confidence grew as you continued: “The lyrics represent what I wanted to be to her. I wanted her to feel as if she could trust me with anything at all. As if I could always pick her up if she felt low”. You finished and prayed that it was enough.

The MC nodded, thoughtful. “So she never said the things in the lyrics out loud?”

You shook your head. “She wasn’t the most extroverted person”, you answered. “But I hope that that’s how she felt”. At that, everyone seemed satisfied and applauded. You bobbed your head, looking back at your clenched fists in your lap. I’ve gotta be more careful. One slip-up and I’m in deep-

“How about our favorite maknae”, the MC laughed, turning to SKZ. Your pulse went sky-high again.

-shit.

Jeongin let his eyes go wide, and pointed at himself. “Na?” He asked in an innocent voice. Despite your nerves going crazy, you managed to chuckled along with everyone else at the cute act.

The MC wasn’t an exception, though he quickly regained his posture. “Yes, I believe it was you who wrote the song ‘Midnight Walk’, am I correct?”

The boy nodded with a bright smile. “That’s right! And the first ever song where I wrote one hundred percent of the lyrics!!” He glowed with pride, and a secret burst of happiness for him shot through you. You could still remember when he’d told you about his accomplished goal.

~~~~~~~~~

You swung your hand, latched onto Jeongin’s, back and forth as you both strolled down an empty trail that ran along the Han River. “So?”, you prompted.

He looked back at you. “What?” He was playing innocent. Of course he was. You giggled and started swinging your connected hands even more, feeling blood rush through your slightly chilled fingers. Without speaking, you both started skipping forward, bumping each other and giggling like children. You loved that. That you could both move in sync without having to communicate. This continued until you pulled him to a stop.

“Okay, now actually tell me. What did you wanna say earlier. You looked as if you were about to explode with excitement”.

Jeongin grinned happily. “I...” he spoke excruciatingly slowly. “...have written.... my own song! And it’s gonna be on the next album!!!!!” At this, he picked you up and spun you around, until you felt too dizzy to stand on your own.

You laughed with him, and leaned on him. “Jeonginie, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you”. You kept clinging onto him. “What’s it called?”

“I haven’t decided yet”, he confessed. He was quiet for a moment. “Do you think I could name it after a fun memory with you? Without being too obvious, that is”.

You nodded. “Yeah, I think you could get away with it”.

And so he grinned broadly. “Okay, then. How about I call it midnight walk, after tonight?”

“Why tonight of all things? We’re just walking”, you asked incredulously.

“Because the simplest memories with you are the best”, he answered, squealing a bit at the overly sweet phrase.

You laughed. “Alright then. Are you allowed to spoil a few lyrics for me?”

“Of course”, said Jeongin, hoisting you up so that he was half carrying you. “It’s my song after all”. His voice went up a notch with happiness. “A few lines feel a bit random, without context; but just remember that I thought of you while writing them”. You hugged his arm until you thought you might be cutting his circulation. As you both kept walking, you slowly regained your balance and he listed a few lines from his oeuvre. That was the best walk at 1:30am you’d ever had.

~~~~~~~~~

Jeongin was still beaming at the MC, who began fanning himself dramatically. “His smile is so blinding”, he called, and there came calls of agreement from the audience. “But you still haven’t answered”. The room went silent again. “What inspired you to write the lyrics of ‘Midnight Walk’?”

Jeongin gave another dazzling smile. “It was a lot of different things; it took months of me scribbling down random ideas to be able to form something logical”.

The MC nodded again. “Of course, the lyrics do vary a lot. But I think we’re more interested in the more romantic sounding ones in the song”. The crowd ooh-ed, as if confirming the statement.

Your boyfriend grinned once more. “Well, those specific lines are dedicated to someone very special in my life”.

NO! You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from yelling aloud. He knew about the warnings, as well as you.

~~~~~~~~~

“Both Stray Kids and Five Times Brighter Will be on a variety show on the second weekend of the month”, stated one of your managers, standing next to JYP himself. Everyone nodded together as the schedule was recited in its entirety. It was all standard, except for the fact that the two groups had never been on a same show.

As the schedule came to its end, both groups dispersed to continue practice, but JYP called Jeongin and yourself aside. “I’d like to specify something”, he said in a tone that let you know that nothing good was coming. “When you’re both on that variety show in the middle of the month, I don’t even want you two to make eye contact. We don’t want anyone knowing about your relationship. I’m warning you now, keep it under wraps, and there won’t be any problems”.

You and Jeongin nodded, eyes round. As JYP finally walked away, you turned to your boyfriend. “Why the Hell does he want us to stay a secret?”, you failed terribly at keeping the anger out of your voice. “You’re allowed to be dating by now, so am I. No one needs to know that we started going out before my ban was up. So what’s his problem?”

Jeongin pulled you against him. “I don’t know, but let’s just do as he said. I don’t wanna think about what could happen if something goes wrong”. You eventually agreed, still grudging.

“It’s still unfair that we have to hide when we’re so happy”.

~~~~~~~~~

The memory raged in your mind, nearly as loud as the screams of shock that wracked the studio at Jeongin’s words. Everyone stared at him with wide eyes, as he smiled calmly. Jeongin, what are you going??!!!!

“They’re dedicated to someone special in my life”. He had to raise his voice to make himself heard. “Whom I’ve not met yet”. There was a collective gasp at the strange turn in his statement. “One day, I want to be able to say those things to the love of my life, on a walk at one in the morning”.

Everyone aah-ed in understanding, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You weren’t sure if you wanted to smack him or kiss him, but at least no one suspected anything anymore. And he’d very secretly hinted at the walk when he shared the lyrics with you, in the dead of night. Your heart swelled with warmth and love for the boy.

“Look at y/n, they’re blushing!”, yelled the MC. You were so shocked that you yelled out as everyone shouted teasingly. The MC started laughing. “Are you thinking of anyone in particular, y/n? Anyone you’d like to take a midnight walk with?” Electricity filled the air.

None of your damn business, you thought hotly. But of course it was. Your entire life was not yours to control, but the public’s. You made a face as if you’d swallowed a particularly sour lemon, which incidentally seemed to be a pretty good answer for the public.

“Apparently, y/n isn’t at all interested in a relationship”, chuckled the MC. He quickly continued with a bunch of other standard questions, and you imagined the different ways you could smack him and still get away with it. Maybe I should throw a bucket of water at him, then he wouldn’t be so obnoxiously happy, you thought, in your own world.

You werre making eye-contact with Jeongin, and realized with a start that you’d been staring at him this entire time. You checked that no one had remarked, but the cameras were strained on Changbin as he complained about being woken up too harshly by Woojin, to the amusement of most. You quickly stole another look at your boyfriend but, almost too subtle to notice, he shook his head, looking a bit panicky. You immediately understood and glanced elsewhere, trying to act interested in some tangled cables by a stage light.

When the questions had dragged on long enough to make your feet go numb, it was finally time for a game before the show came to an end. You stood up gratefully, hobbling a bit to get to stage right. You craned your neck to see what game you were meant to play against Stray Kids, and with a crashing wave of horror, you realized that Pocky Stick packets were sitting on the tiny stool near the stage wings. You saw from the corner of your eye that Jeongin was looking as displeased about the idea as you, even though everyone else seemed almost thrilled.

This is nuts, you kept repeating to yourself. Either I’ll have to play with one of SKZ, WHO KNOW JEONGIN AND I ARE DATING, or I play against Jeongin and people realize that we seem too comfortable. It’s a lose lose situation oh shit oh shit oh sh-

“How about the desert-fox-maknae and y/n, who seems so keen to avoid a little kiss!”, yelled the MC, who was tantalizingly close enough for you to punch. You faced Jeongin, who had become unusually pale, and you fought back your own panic as you were passed a Pocky Stick.

Your stomach churned as you both stared at each other, sweat beading at the hairline. Someone gave your shoulder a push --you didn’t know who, and you couldn’t force yourself to care-- and you bit into you end of the stick. Jeongin bit the other end and cheers rose in the crowd, deafening you and making your eyes water.

You weren’t sure how long you both kept staring at each other, but in the seconds --it could’ve been hours-- that Jeongin’s eyes bore into yours, something seemed to click in his mind, and he clenched his jaw with determination. You nibbled a bit of the Pocky Stick and noise in the room went up. Slowly the gap between your lips became smaller and smaller until you were close enough for you to hear his heartbeat, or maybe it was yours, pounding in your ears.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your senses completely abandoning you. We must be less than a centimeter apart! And then you felt a firm hand clasp your wrist. Before you could understand what was happening, Jeongin’s lips smacked against yours. But not by accident. This was with decision, the Pocky Stick forgotten. From habit, you kissed him back, your ears ringing. As you pulled away, you realized it had been him who had grabbed your wrist, and he’d put a the other hand on your waist to pull you closer. The ringing in your ears was from the screams that came from the audience.

Panic rose up in you again as what had happened sank in. We kissed... on live TV!! Your heart was in your throat. What’s going to happen to us? Jeongin said something that never made it to your ears, but looked something like ‘trust me’. He turned to everyone watching, now in a confused frenzy at what they’d witnessed. “Y/n and I are dating”, he stated simply, which was followed by an enormous uproar. He continued in a yell. “We weren’t meant to say anything, but I think it’s unfair that we have to keep our happiness a secret, just for the satisfaction of the public. So now you know!!!” His last words were drowned out by more screams of shock and confusion as you were both pulled off and away from stage.

You had become light-headed, everything becoming an incoherent blur as your receded into your own chaotic thoughts. What’s gonna happen what will JYP do to us will we be kicked out of the company oh god what if I become the reason for Jeongin leaving Stray Kids I couldn’t live with myself--

In your daze, you were pushed into a small waiting room. “Wait here”, said a gruff voice. I’m going to pass out! The world is tilting to the left! And now the right... Left.... Right.... You leaned against a wall and looked at Jeongin, who stared back at you, expressionless. After a few seconds, you started violently trembling.

“What are we going to do”, you breathed, more to yourself than to your boyfriend. “They’ll hate us, they’ll kick us out of the company! Why did you do that?” You had no anger in your voice as you stared at Jeongin, just helplessness. He walked over and wrapped his arms around you tightly but with a little tremor.

“I don’t know”, he confessed, and you sniffled slightly. “But I thought of what you’d said when we were told to stay quiet. We shouldn’t have to hide, especially because we’re so happy. I think if JYP wants to kick us out, let him”.

“No, no, Jeongin!” You let out a panicked sob. “What about the other boys? You can’t leave them, not just for me! What ever happens, you can’t leave Stray Kids!”

You both stood there, holding onto each other tightly, for a long time. After what felt like hours, you both sat down on the shiny floor of the tiny room, still not letting go of each other’s hands. You had calmed down now, and just sat quietly. Suddenly, Jeongin sat up and grabbed his phone. “What are you doing”, you asked, your voice slurred and muffled from exhaustion.

“The show was a live broadcast wasn’t it”, asked Jeongin. “And because it’s the evening, most of the world will have been awake. Which means...” He tapped the Twitter icon and the app came to life. He immediately went to the Trending page, and with a gasp, you saw #JeonginAndY/nDating on the second most popular tag.

“Oh my God”, you breathed. You didn’t think the effect would be so big. Before you could stop him, Jeongin tapped on the tag. You yelped and looked away, not wanting to see any of the awful comments people had made.

“Y/n...” Jeongin’s voice was laced with shock.

“I know, I know, you don’t have to tell me it’s bad”, you say in despair.

“It’s... Everyone’s congratulating us!” Your eyes snapped open, and you swung your head around to glare at the bright screen. Thousands upon thousands of tweets had the trending hashtag, with people voicing their wishes of happiness for you as a couple, in English, Korean, you saw Spanish and french and Japanese. Message after message flashed by as Jeongin scrolled downwards. He started laughing; softly at first, then loudly, like a child how had received a special gift for Christmas. “They’re happy for us! Y/n they’re happy for us!!” He hugged you tightly as you laughed with him, more out of relief and exhaustion than anything else.

After a few more minutes, spent with you both bent over the phone and reading all the happy tweets, one of the staff came in to let you know that JYP was on his way to talk. “He didn’t sound as angry as we expected though, if that makes you feel a little better”, he said sympathetically. You thanked him as he wished you both luck and closed the door. And you turned back to Jeongin.

“You know... I don’t want to jinx it but... maybe this wasn’t as bad as I thought”, you said apprehensively.

The boy hugged you tightly. “Well, no matter what happens, we’ll always be there for each other. Right?”

You smiled, thinking of ‘Midnight Walk’ and ‘Winged Love’. “Right”. You felt warm, think about the lyrics you’d both written, saying you’d never leave the love of your life.

Because it was true.

im sorry idek what the ending is anymore but eh this was the third draft soooo...

#stray kids #stray kids jeongin #imagine #imagines #kpop imagines #scenario #kpop scenario #kpop scenarios #jeongin #yang jeongin #jeongin imagines #jeongin scenario #angst #fluff #idol au #kpop au #stray kids au #boyfriend jeongin #boyfriend au

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devilrising · 5 years

Text

Fallen Draco Pt. 1

This follows a prompt written by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry.

Word Count: 3018

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic)

***

2nd March, 1998

It’s hard. It’s really, really hard, to know what I know and do nothing. Every day I wake up screaming, nightmares plaguing me in my sleep. Each morning I look in the mirror, and watch as my wings start to fade. Going from purest white, to a darker shade of grey. I’m losing feathers too. There’s a jar by my bed, and a couple others in a drawer, filled with them.

The day they started drooping, I became terrified. I knew what had caused it, but I didn’t want to think about. Angels are rarely men. And when they are, they don’t usually survive for very long. My life up until now was, rather dangerous. I always thought that if the war hadn’t killed me, I would’ve eventually died from being an angel. I guess it’s both.

Voldemort is in the living room of Malfoy Manor, discussing what the next move will be. Father is listening intently, and I’ve been banished to my room, so it must be vital. Maybe there’s new information. Maybe they are planning another battle. I hope I’m not asked to participate. I never asked to be a part of this. I wish I wasn’t. Mother has grown increasingly concerned recently. She is the only confidant I have. The only person I can talk to. Her once beautiful hair has rapidly been turning grey and warn. The wrinkles riddling her skin are more pronounced than last year, and she is

growing frail. I’m terrified of losing her, because that’s where I feel we’re heading.

A knock draws me across the room and towards my door. The wood is dark and thick, keeping up the illusion of no light in the Manor. When I twist the handle and pull the door towards me, I jump. It’s Voldemort. What’s he doing here? He takes in the surprise on my face, and a beam shows itself. On anyone else, I would say that it ‘lit up their face’. With the Dark Lord, however, it’s much more of a wicked, cruel, and insane look. Like he wants to saw my head off in a public courtyard. I cringe at the thought.

“I’ve been wondering, Draco.” I shudder and pray that it isn’t visible. “How would you feel about being a crucial part of the next battle?” Like I have any choice. Like he wouldn’t kill me on the spot if he questioned my loyalty.

“Of course, my lord,” I say as I drop into a bow.

“Wonderful! Would you like to join the meeting in the drawing room, then?”

“That would be much gracious of you, my lord.”

I receive no reply, just a hand on my shoulder as I walk down the corridor and into the room my father is in.

“You’re here, Draco. Glad. Take a seat over there.” Father gestures to a black leather armchair, and I sit on the very edge of the cushion. Voldemort strides in after me, and takes a seat opposite my father. He begins informing me about the recent decision to crash the Ministry. But not just any part of the Ministry. No, no, we need to be more ambitious than that. That’s predictable even. No. We are crashing the Unspeakables’ department.

Horror drips down my spine, but I smile and nod at the half-man in front of me. I tell him that I think it’s a marvellous idea, and will really persuade people to join the correct side of this war. In my head, I’m screaming. It’s the worst idea imaginable. Who knows what’s in that department? If someone was to so much as knock something, we could all be dead. What if someone was to wear a certain metal that reacted with an object? I can’t see this going at all well, but I sit in silence, a fake smile on my face.

***

9th March, 1998

I’m in over my head. I’ve known the next ploy for a week exactly, and have come up with every possible way this mission could fail. We could burn alive. Explode. Drown. Rapidly age. Turn into objects. Have the air sucked out of our bodies. The list is so long I forget the first few I wrote down. I have no idea why Voldemort decided the Unspeakable department was a good plan. But then again, when has he ever had a good plan?

The wind roars around my ears, and I can’t hear anything other than my pulse and hammering heart. Mountains are beautiful to look at, but to hike them? That’s another story entirely. But I needed to get away. I couldn’t bear to be in the same house as my father and Voldemort. The two men are positively insane. They both need a mental asylum.

I sweep my eyes over the ground below, and marvel at the scene stretched before me. The view from Skiddaw mountain is astonishing. I feel tiny in comparison to everything else I can see. I feel like I’m insignificant. A welcome emotion for me recently. The sky above me is dull and cloudy, but there is no rain falling today. It’s Monday, and I should be at Hogwarts, but I’ve been pulled out for the remainder of Seventh Year. Potter isn’t there anyway, so I wouldn’t be doing much. Studies became quite boring Sixth Year, if I’m being honest.

Potter. Apparently he is off in the world somewhere, trying to locate and destroy Horcruxes. I applaud him for trying, but there is no way he’ll survive that. Voldemort told me himself how difficult they are to find, and that to actually get a hold of them is practically impossible. I’ve tried to imagine where they would be, what they would be, but have always come up dry. I don’t know of a single place so dangerous. Potter must be out of his mind. Potter, Granger, Weasley, and his precious Order.

Suddenly no longer interested in the scenery below me, I turn around and walk over to the tree where I’ve laid all my things out. I sit on the emerald picnic rug, and bite into one of the apples I brought. The pink skin matches what colour I know my cheeks must be, and I hum with the sweet taste filling my mouth. The branches above me sway in the gentle breeze, and I’m reminded of autumn days in Third Year. Before everything started going south rapidly.

That was the year with Black escaping from Azkaban. The year with the stupid hypogriff breaking my arm. The year Granger punched me, and Potter laughed at me. Thankfully, that didn’t happen very often. My thoughts start straying back to life at Hogwarts, before the world turned a head. Before my family started to repeatedly fulfill “tasks” and “assignments”. Before I had to seclude myself from my friends, the rest of Slytherin, and before I had to push myself to the extremes of my magical capabilities.

The Vanishing Cupboard, the Unbreakable Vow, Dumbleodre’s death, and the Sectumsempra incident. Last year was a bitch. I can’t see this year being any improvement however. The plans that I’ve overheard (due to unfold in May) haunt me in my sleep. I don’t know what to do about it. I have no one to talk to. To tell how scared I am.

The wind starts picking up, and the emerald rug beneath me lifts up in the breeze. Although it’s no longer a breeze. It’s more like a blustery wind than anything else. Regardless, I decide that it’s probably for the better to leave Skiddaw mountain and return to the Manor. I use my wand and a complex charm my father taught me in order to pack up all my things. I watch as everything floats above the rug, which starts folding itself into a square. The food I didn’t eat flies into the basket I brought, neatly organised and sorted. Then the rug shrinks, and enters into the basket. The basket then shrinks itself, so now I can fit it in the pocket of my black skinny jeans. Happy with the charm, I nod to myself and pick up my Nimbus 2001 from where it was resting against the tree.

Even though the wind is brutal, I would rather fly the 475-ish kilometres back to Wiltshire, than accidentally apparate into a meeting again. That didn’t work out so well for me last time.

***

11th March, 1998

Life is getting worse. It’s harder and harder each day to tell myself that it will be okay. Two days ago, I was beaten into unconsciousness for arriving after my curfew. The wind had made it nearly impossible to fly, and I struggled the whole way to the Manor. Being the stubborn prat that I am, I was confident that I would make it back before 11pm. I shouldn’t have taken the risk.

As an added punishment, I am grounded to my room. But my father and Voldemort don’t do things by half. No. They have come up with specially designed wards to let them in, but to keep everyone else out. Not to mention, I physically can’t leave. If I try, I’m electrocuted until I pass out. If that happens four times, I’m instantly killed. I am forced to stay in my tiny, dark, uncomforting room for a week. The only thing I’m allowed to do is write letters. But I have no way of sending them out to anyone or anywhere. With no owl to carry them, I’m doomed. They deliberately let me write for help, knowing that I’m not stupid enough to actually do it.

Instead, I write stories, I draw woodland animals (and other more, uh, explicit ones, but those are burned immediately after completion). It’s relaxing. With nothing but ink and parchment, I waste away the hours in front of the fire. The warmth very welcome in the cold month March is shaping up to be. Eventually tired with ink, I grab down a book on puzzles from my shelves. The cover is faded, deep purple, the title written in silver thread. I’ve read this so many times, solved each riddle, word puzzle, and math problem, but I open it anyway.

The first one is easy. “.--. ..- --.. --.. .-.. . ... - .... .-. --- ..- --. .... --. . -. . .-. .- - .. --- -. ...” The problem is written in Morse code, and it takes less than a minute to have it decoded. “Puzzles Through Generations” is the title of the book, and I find it rather humorous that it’s also the first problem. I smile to myself, before diving headfirst into the book.

***

Later that same evening, I start to grow restless. With nothing else in my room, I’ve resorted to lying on my bed, face buried in a pillow. I don’t know what I’m doing with myself. Why I allowed myself to get into this mess. Why I even bothered coming back to the Manor. I wonder, not for the first time, why I’m given so much freedom. Well, except for right now, of course. I’m generally permitted all through the Manor and it’s grounds. I’m given unlimited access to anywhere on the continent, so long as I can be traced.

I always come to the same conclusion though. The two terrible excuses for men know I won’t leave. They know that I know that if I was to desert them, they would track me. Voldemort would employ thousands of Death Eaters to find me, and to bring me back to him to die at his hands. Hours of torture would occur, worsened because of my father. I would be considered a ‘traitor’. I have nothing wrong with that last bit, of course. But I wouldn’t want to leave my mother. She would surely be punished for my actions, and I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t ever forgive myself.

I stand up from the bed, pace over to the small bathroom joined to my bedroom, and stare at my reflection. I look ill. My hair is in shambles, strewn all over my face. It almost looks like Potter’s, except for the colours, which are starkly opposite. My eyes have sunken into my skin, dark rings under them. My complexion has become sickly pale, and I wonder when this happened. I’ve probably looked terrible for months, but been too busy with everything else (like surviving) to notice.

Trying desperately to salvage my appearance I cast a few simple charms. I straighten out my hair, making it fall neatly to my scalp. After struggling with my complexion for a while, I give up and move to my eyes. The bags are covered with a glamour that takes all of my energy. I’m so tired from the spells that I pad back to my bed and gladly fall asleep. In my dreams, I question why I was worn out so quickly, but pass it off as being trapped in a room with no sun, limited food and water, and lack of new oxygen.

***

15th March, 1998

I’m becoming desperate. I was let out of my room for an hour earlier this morning, and dragged outside into the sun and air. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, but it was better than nothing but artificial lights. Food was handed to me, and I greedily ate it, the first proper meal I’d had in six days. I didn’t think the occasional plate of unappetising gloop counted. After fifteen minutes, I was dragged back inside once again, and led into the drawing room where I first accepted the Dark Mark. I was then tortured for the remainder of the hour.

Legilimency was first. Voldemort did it himself. Digging through my memories to find any weakness he could find. He had eventually decided on one of Potter lunging at me, fury in his eyes. I was taunted with it for ages, before being placed under the Cruciatus Curse. It had been extreme pain, and I’m thankful it’s over now. Still, the sensation is fresh in my mind, and I’m being plagued by paranoia.

Desperation fills me just from the memory, and I silently panic at my desk. I need to get out of here. My wings are losing colour every day. Feathers have filled the jar next to my bed, and I’ve started a fourth. I need to get help immediately. I’m seriously starting to wonder how long I have left. As a male angel, I never should’ve lived this long. I should’ve died years ago. I stretch my fading wings out, and try to gently flutter them. No use. Instead, I watch as a single feather floats to the carpet beneath my feet.

Uncontrollable tears stream down my face, and it’s desperation that finally drives me to pick up a quill. It’s intense, urgent need that makes me pull a sheet of parchment from my stack. It’s in despair that I actually touch the inked quill to the parchment. I quickly pen a letter to the first person I can think of to save me. Shuddering, I use my wand to summon a muggle postage stamp from the hallway outside, slip it under the door, and stick it to the envelope I pulled from a drawer.

A shiver goes through me as I seal the letter in the envelope. I don’t know how to send it to him, until I remember about the bathroom. I cross the bedroom and turn the water on in the shower in order to cover any noise I might make. Then I drag a chair in from the bedroom, and place it directly beneath the air vent. Standing in the chair precariously, I unattach the grille from the ceiling and place it gently onto the white tiles. The gap is too small for anything but my hand to get through, and grin. There’s no way anyone will think I’ve used this air vent for anything. What’s the point after all?

Carefully, I place the letter into the vent opening and pull my wand from my pocket. Knowing I’ll be drained after this no matter what I do, I decide to use everything left in me to lurch the letter up. A shock of green particles shoot from my wand tip, and they push the letter up the vent. I watch as it disappears from view and into the kitchen vent. I start to track the letter with my mind. Following it as it flies through the deserted kitchen, and out of the window in the dining room. I know it’s made it out of the wards when the green barges into my wand again, knocking me of the chair I’m still standing on.

Now I can only hope that Potter replies. Or rather, that he doesn’t.

***

22nd March, 1998

It’s been a week now, and I’ve heard nothing from him. I have been let out of my room though. My wings have lost all of the pure white, and are now as dark as a raven. It’s quite striking, the dark colour of the few feathers I have left, against my sickly pale skin and platinum hair. I always thought that if I lost my wings, there would be a skeleton left to haunt me of the sins I had committed. Instead, there is nothing. The feathers aren’t attached to anything but air. Maybe it’s because of the extremity of the darkness encompassing me.

I no longer feel much at all, just longing to be saved. Even if it’s by my previous enemy.

***

24th March, 1998

My wings are totally gone. Vanished from existence. I feel awful. The steady stream of food, sun, water, and air being spoon-fed to me isn’t enough. My mother is blaming herself, and I can’t stand seeing her beyond herself. I start praying to a god I don’t believe in for Potter to arrive.

***

26th March, 1998

I threw up today. It’s been 24 days since this whole thing started. Scars have made themselves a home between my shoulder blades, permanently tormenting me. I wish not for the first time that I’d done something sooner. Before I was in over my head. Potter had better get here soon.

***

A/N: Next part will be out same time next week! If you want to be tagged in the next uploads, please tell me so you don’t miss out! 🥰

Masterlist — Next Part

#devilrising #Fallen Draco #drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #cute #fanfiction #lol #draco lucius malfoy #draco/harry #draco x harry #harry x draco #h/d #fanfic #drarry fanfic #cute drarry

36 notes · View notes

saintjojis · 5 years

Text

The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot

Genre: Angst, just angst.

Word Count: 3255

A/N: There isn’t really a pairing in this, it’s Vernon centric; and it’s based on true events. Love ain’t easy.

[nonie🥴- 8:09pm: yoooo check this out lmao- ATTACHMENT: 1 IMAGE]

[nonie🥴- 8:09pm: btwbtw are u coming over tonight? chan & kwan are coming, i think a few more people are comin too]

[soonie🐅- 8:09pm: JSJSNS]

[soonie🐅- 8:10pm: sorry dude i can’t make it )):]

[soonie🐅, 8:10pm: hey dude when u get the chance can u check out this choreo?- ATTACHMENT: noon.docx]

[soonie🐅- 8:11pm: night mr. chwe]

[nonie🥴- 8:12pm: good night mr. kwon]

Something felt odd about the conversation, but Vernon couldn’t quite place what it was. Soonyoung wasn’t really the type to say good night, especially this early; add to the fact that they stayed up nearly every night texting, and sending each other memes. Maybe he was reading too much into it.

Even if he was, he now had to call up Mingyu to tell him that everyone cancelled. He felt a little disheartened, they had all been so excited for tonight; and now, it seems like no ones available. He could understand that things come up, so he pushed the feeling aside. At least Chan and Seungkwan were still coming over.

[kwannie🍊-8:21pm: dude soonyoung cancelled???]

[nonie🥴-8:21pm: yeah dog,,, guess it’s us 3 again,,,,, like Always]

[chan🦖-8:22pm: Uh,,, I can’t make it either,, sorry guys]

Bummer. Nearly all hope was lost, until Seungkwan texted him saying he still wanted to hang out, even if everyone else stood them up. Vernon felt that, he really wanted to hang out and have a good time like always. Leave it to Seungkwan to always pull through.

They went out for dinner and a walk around a night time bazaar of sorts. They had a lot of fun, these days it seemed that it was them against the world. They talked about everything going on lately, how they thought it strange that everyone cancelled, Soonyoung’s cryptic message, Chan’s attitude as of late; simply everything. Seungkwan had the brilliant idea that to commemorate the occasion, they get matching necklaces. A symbol of their friendship. They walked around looking for something nice, something that would suit them. When they finally did, they laughed and talked about how dumb they felt; even if it wasn’t dumb. Vernon ironically posted their necklaces on his Instagram story with the tag “friendship goals”, thinking nothing more of it.

That is until Soonyoung posted on his own story, a picture of him and Chan, with the tag “friendship goals”. They were taken aback by this. It felt a little aggressive, if they were being honest. Chan followed suit with his own picture of him and Soonyoung, with the same tag. What were they trying to do? Vernon shook it off, Seungkwan, however, felt there was more to it. On the drive back to Vernon’s place, they talked about how suspicious everything was. It was very confusing why they’d even post that, as if they were mocking Vernon’s picture.

Once back home, Vernon read Soonyoung’s letter disguised as a choreography to Seungkwan. Halfway through, he started crying. Everything was too much, and he didn’t know what to feel. Soonyoung’s words were so sincere, and so warm and nice; Vernon wasn’t sure what he was feeling, or how to process the confession that had been presented to him. It didn’t make him sad, it made him scared. He knew all too well how this would end. He simply couldn’t feel that for Soonyoung, it was very complicated. Now he knew that all the sappy posts Soonyoung commented on, or all the lovey dovey stories were about him. Seungkwan was equally as shocked as Vernon, but he was more worried for him.

“Dude… What are you going to say to him?”

“I don’t know… I don’t know.”

It wasn’t an easy thing to process. He was touched, he was moved; but that didn’t mean he felt what Soonyoung felt. Not romantically at least. He did love him, as a friend. One he admired, and respected immensely. Platonically, he’d move mountains for Soonyoung. He’d do anything for him. It wasn’t romantic, but it was pure, innocent, real love. He’d grown to have a special place in Vernon’s heart. Now, he had to figure out how not to break his heart. He hated being in this situation, he knew it would be painful regardless of how nice he was.

Seungkwan wouldn’t allow for Vernon to be sad over this, not tonight. He told Vernon that they could deal with it later, when they had more time to think. For now, they could focus their energy on them. They were here, it was still early so they might as well enjoy it. So they did.

They walked around the neighborhood, laughing about nothing and everything. Vernon felt better already, Soonyoung being nothing but an afterthought.

“What the fuck?!” Seungkwan turned his phone over so Vernon could see what was on the screen. It was Soonyoung. With Chan. They were hanging out. They were drinking. Vernon felt hurt, Seungkwan was livid. He was fired up, not necessarily because they were hanging out; but because they had lied. They’d lied, and decided to blow them off. Soonyoung had been a coward, and Chan an accomplice. They were in shock. Vernon felt stupid for having cried over Soonyoung’s words, it made him feel conflicted. It was clear to him that Chan knew about it. The night went on, they were determined to not let it affect them; but it was now a forethought for Vernon. How could he think about anything else? The timing was awful too, they had a final group assignment due on Monday, and they hadn’t even started. They’d deal with it tomorrow. Tonight, Vernon wanted to cry.

Sunday proved to be even worse than Saturday, where the day before had started out fine; Sunday was a bad one right from the beginning.

[chan🦖-10:32am: So you guys don’t give a shit about failing?]

[kwannie🍊-10:34am: we do??? cool it dude]

[chan🦖-10:35am: Well it doesn’t fucking seem like it.]

What the fuck was with the attitude? And, as if they were connected telepathically, Seungkwan texted him about it. Why was Chan blaming them if he hadn’t done anything either. It turned into a war. One that Seungkwan and Vernon fought together, and got nothing from. Vernon wound up saying hurtful things to Chan, only after he’d hurt his feelings and proceeded to make him lose his patience entirely. If he was so up in arms about the assignment not being done, he could do it himself. Which only warranted an empty apology from Chan upon realizing that he couldn’t do the work by himself. In the end, Vernon wound up doing the whole thing himself, getting a total of half an hour of sleep in order to get it done. He refused to talk to Chan, it wasn’t like he’d earned forgiveness yet. Not after genuinely hurting his feelings. It wasn’t the first time either, he’d let it slide many times before.

Vernon could hardly concentrate on the work in front of him, though. He still had Soonyoung’s words in his head, eating away at his mind. He decided to write him something too. Something nice and heartfelt, to explain his situation, as complicated as it was.

[nonie🥴-3:47am: hey dude, when you’ve got time can u check out the lyrics to this track i wrote? good night - ATTACHMENT: late night.docx]

Seeing each other around campus and in class proved to be very difficult for Vernon. From the moment he got there he noticed how close Soonyoung and Chan were; how Soonyoung wouldn’t even look at him. It sent a flood of resentment surging through his body. He kept checking if Soonyoung had seen his message already, it just stood at ‘sent’ while Soonyoung was on his phone constantly. Even more resentment followed.

That afternoon when he went home, Seungkwan called him. Chan had the nerve to confront him, and demand an apology. As if he hadn’t laughed at them and insinuated that they were lazy, good for nothings the day before. He even had the nerve to claim Vernon was in the wrong for feeling hurt. Whatever Chan was doing, it wasn’t working. Seungkwan is a lot more reactionary than Vernon is, so the screaming at each other on campus scene was quite an interesting one. He really couldn’t believe it, at this point, Vernon didn’t think Chan could fix their friendship. It would take a lot more than a simple apology to make things better between them.

Regardless, he pushed it all aside; they had even more assignments to get done; and working together seemed to be out of the picture. So, as per usual, Vernon took care of everything. Seungkwan had a valid excuse since he had another individual assignment due, Chan on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen. He only popped in to complain about how they’re not going to get the assignment done on time and how they’re all going to fail. Really helpful. Still he managed- again- to get it done on time.

However, everything was weighing heavy on him. He felt the entire situation with Soonyoung and Chan taking a toll on him, he could only put it off for so long. Vernon checked his phone every five minutes hoping that Soonyoung has at least seen his message. Still nothing. Yet Soonyoung shared meme after meme about how heartbroken he was. How could he? Everything was right there in his letter, maybe he was misunderstanding everything. Maybe, Soonyoung preemptively distanced himself to avoid the heartache and rejection. The real question was “why?”. Soonyoung knew that Vernon cared for him dearly. And if he did distance himself purposely, why make it so public? He wasn’t dropping Vernon’s name, but there was simply no chance that his friends didn’t know about it given the replies and comments. Vernon just wanted to understand why. Of course, Seungkwan sent him everything he saw; which Vernon was grateful for, because if he didn’t he’d still be making excuses for Soonyoung.

As much as it hurt to see him blaming all his sadness on him, it was for the best. If that was what Soonyoung chose to put out into the world, and if he chose to paint that picture, then Vernon didn’t want anything to do with it. What isn’t to say a breakup would be worse? It really hurt to be put at the forefront of this heartbreak, unwillingly and without his knowledge.

[nonie🥴-9:36pm: i wanted to talk about this in person, but it’s better if we leave it like this. you go your way i go mine. have a nice life mr. kwon, make the best of it.]

[soonie🐅-10:17pm: can i call you?]

Vernon waited, biding his time. He didn’t want to talk over the phone, that wouldn’t help either of them. Instead they agreed to meet the following day on campus to talk. By themselves.

The next morning, after a long night of learning a semester’s worth of statistics, he walked to the library looking for Soonyoung. Vernon sent him a text, telling him where he was. Time crept by, so Vernon listened to music and worked a little more on his still unfinished assignments. It was now nine thirty and there were no signs of Soonyoung anywhere. So Vernon walked out of the building and looked around. He saw Soonyoung in a bench not too far away; he was with Chan, and Mingyu. They were laughing and having a good time, Soonyoung, phone in hand, sat there simply laughing along. To say Vernon was mad would be an understatement. Did Soonyoung not care? How could he be acting like this? Vernon sat himself on a bench at which he could see them, and waited. It had now been an hour since he’d sent Soonyoung that message. He felt a knot in his throat swell, and his vision got blurry. It hurt. Just as he sat there on the verge of tears he looked up to see Chan an Soonyoung walking in his direction, they saw him. They seemed completely taken aback by him given they went behind one of the buildings so they were out of sight. If Vernon wasn’t so emotionally invested in both of them, he would’ve thought they ditched him.

Soon enough, however, Soonyoung emerged from behind the wall. He carried himself like he wasn’t nervous or worried, but his expression and mannerisms said otherwise. Vernon, on the other hand, was angry.

“What took you so long?”

“My phone died, I didn’t see your message. I’m sorry.”

What a lame excuse.

“Do you have anything you want to say to me?” Vernon was direct, and dry. He wasn’t in the mood for being friendly.

“Hansol, I love you. I don’t want you out of my life.”

“It doesn’t seem like you want me in it, though.”

“I’m sorr-“

“When you blatantly ignore me, I don’t get the idea that you want me in your life. It gives me the opposite impression, actually. Waiting and waiting, but you won’t even look at me when I pass by. You won’t even wave at me. Nothing, like I don’t exist anymore. I thought I made things clear in my letter. I want to be your friend, I love you as a friend.”

“But, I don’t want to be just your friend. Every since I met you, you’ve been all I can think about. I love everything about you, and we’ve got so much in common. Whenever you talked about something I didn’t know I’d look it up to understand you. You’re funny. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.” There was a hiny of desperation in Soonyoung’s voice. He was beginning to choke up. Vernon’s anger dissipated, and was replaced with sadness and stress instead.

“You know we can’t be together. I don’t love you that way. I wouldn’t want to hurt you. That isn’t my intent. I value you so much as my friend,” a small sob interrupted his sentence, “I don’t want to lose you. You’re so important to me, please understand that some things aren’t meant to be.”

“It doesn’t have to end like it always does, you know. We don’t have t-“

“Soonyoung, it always ends up like that. You think that it won’t but it will. We’ll date, you’ll realize I don’t love you, and you’ll be hurt. You’ll want to hold my hand, and I won’t let you. You’ll want to hold me, and I won’t let you. You have to realize that dating me won’t make me love you, and you’ll only be in love with the idea of me. I can’t love you like you want. Like you deserve. You deserve more than a one sided relationship. You deserve someone who can actually love you. And I can’t love you how you want.”

Vernon broke at that moment, why can’t Soonyoung understand? He was crying, hard. The idea of losing a friend so close to him was genuinely upsetting.

“Please, Hansol, we can try it out and if it doesn’t work I won’t hold it against you. I won’t hate you. I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t, but you will.” He stood, grabbing his things. Not looking at him once. “I should leave.”

So he did, without looking back. He sat in a corner of the library where no one would find him or hear him cry. It was a bitter end, and a depressing goodbye to someone he wanted around for a long time. Vernon couldn’t help but feel guilt crawling up his body. Invading him, like a leech. He felt sick, his head spinned. He texted Seungkwan to tell him, he told him everything that was said. Seungkwan said he’d be there as soon as possible.

Vernon cut all ties with Soonyoung. It didn’t do him any good to blame himself for what happened; as Seungkwan had put it, if he couldn’t see him as anything more than a friend, then they were never really friends to begin with. Still, as helpful as that was, Vernon kept feeling a twinge of pain and guilt every time he saw Soonyoung comment on memes about heartbreak on his timeline, blaming “someone” for feeling like utter shit and absolutely worthless. It hurt to see him think that Vernon didn’t care, or that he didn’t love him. Sure it wasn’t romantic, but platonic love is just as important and meaningful. He constantly remembered every good day they’d had together, all the times they went out, inside jokes; everything. It was all tainted. It didn’t bring him joy, it only brought him heartache.

Then, all of Soonyoung’s skeletons came out of the closet. He’d told his friends a different version if events; in his, they dated. Vernon was his ex-boyfriend, who dumped him because he no longer cared or loved him. To say Vernon didn’t cry when he found out would be a lie. He had no right. Then it happened. The fateful meme accusing Vernon of being very expensive to Soonyoung. Apparently he was still in debt over things he did for Vernon. Not only that, but their “friends” clowning him, agreeing with Soonyoung, taking pity on him.

‘You don’t hurt those you claim to love.’

Blocking Soonyoung wasn’t the easiest or the absolute happiest thing, but he had to for the sake of his own mental health. Which Soonyoung noticed right away. Vernon felt he needed to give him one last chance at redemption. So he texted him before blocking his number.

[nonie🥴-9:08pm: “let’s not be immature” so lets talk. ]

[soonie🐅-10:56pm: 🤔 hey? how are you?]

[nonie🥴-10:57pm: not good, but that isnt the point. the point is, u dont know why i blocked you do you?]

[soonie🐅-10:57pm: You blocked me? what’s up with that]

What? Why was he acting dumb? He really doesn’t care at all.

[nonie🥴-10:58pm: you know, talking to you was a mistake. ]

[soonie🐅-10:59pm: 😢]

[nonie🥴-11:00pm: i like that you deem this as important as i do.]

[soonie🐅-11:00pm: Well it is important]

It felt like a cruel fucking joke. One last chance at fixing everything, and he was acting like this? Fuck it, fuck him.

[nonie🥴-11:02pm: it isnt. and i know it.]

[soonie🐅-11:03pm: Do you want to talk about something? And it is important to me]

[soonie🐅-11:03pm: If you want I’ll call you, you tell me. ]

[nonie🥴-11:05pm: no. ]

[soonie🐅-11:05pm: Okay, that’s fine ]

[nonie🥴-11:06: goodbye. ]

He felt pathetic for crying about it, but it was just so obvious that Soonyoung didn’t want him around anymore. Since they couldn’t date, there wasn’t a point to trying in Soonyoung’s eyes. It’s the only way Vernon could make sense of it. Otherwise, it was all so inconsistent.

It hurt to have to say goodbye to him that way, but there was no other choice. It hurt seeing someone who you love and who claimed to love you, turn so bitter towards you. Vernon didn’t want to put up with the humiliation and character assassination taking place for something that wasn’t his fault.

A bitter end to something so sweet. Something that Vernon would bare in mind next time anyone wanted to get that close to him. He still wished Soonyoung all the best, he only hoped Soonyoung did the same for him.

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turning-the-kaleidoscope · 5 years

Text

Ahhh it’s been a while but I wrote another hug prompt!! unfortunately I can’t remember exactly who had requested this prompt in particular jklsdfsdf, but have some soft Teru + Shigeo + Dadreigen at the end, sickfic style bc 1) i can and 2) soft hurt/comfort is so therapeutic so heck yeah!! i hope you guys like it! :D

hug prompt 17: a hug where one muse stops the other from collapsing (with Teru and Shigeo)

Teru likes the company. After being alone for so long with only a collection of fake friends, he enjoys all the company he has with Shigeo and the others. He treasures every moment.

So he invites them over regularly for games and movies and snacks all the time. Sometimes all at once. Sometimes one at a time. Tonight is one of those latter times, when it's just him and Shigeo. He likes Shigeo a lot, more than he's able to put into words, and his company is always welcomed.

Except this time, in the middle of the visit and quite suddenly, Shigeo comes down ill. And looking back on it, Teru should have seen the signs, even if Shigeo thought he was fine. It took him way too long to figure out what the problem was.

But as soon as he knows what's wrong, he's in full caretaker mode--a mode he only knows after being looked after by Reigen while sick himself. He isn't glad Shigeo is under the weather, but he's been waiting for this opportunity to take care of his friends like they've done for him, and he approaches it with what might be a bit too much enthusiasm.

"Reigen told me that you feed a cold and starve a fever," he quotes as he reads over a bottle of fever relievers from last he got sick. "And he made me take these, they're supposed to help."

"Are they?" Shigeo asks, and it isn't snarky, but the exhaustion in his tone brings it across that way. "I don't think my fever is very high, Teru…"

"Any fever is high enough to be taken care of," Teru says resolutely. "Trust me, I've got this."

"It's not that I don't trust you," Shigeo says, "but I really do think I'm fine, you don't have to worry about me."

"Listen, Shige." Teru pauses, long enough to look him in the eyes. He looks miserable, a lot more miserable than he seems, sitting on the edge of Teru's futon with a blanket around his shoulders. He isn't flushed (yet) but there's a glossiness in his eyes that speaks of a festering fever.

He sighs. "You, Reigen, everyone… you've always looked after me, yknow? Always took care of me, made sure I was okay… and, I never really had the chance to repay that, properly. So… let me worry about you a lil, alright? It might sound silly, but I want to."

"Okay."

"Huh? That quick?"

"I mean," Shigeo fiddles with the blanket, "I think I understand what you mean. So if you really want to, I don't have any trouble with it."

Teru blinks, but it softens into a smile. "Alrightee!" He salutes without really thinking about it. "Leave this to me, then!"

Shigeo cracks a smile, and Teru sets about measuring the proper dose of medicine.

It's easy, really, it is.

Until that night. And it's around that time when things start to go from manageable to scary. It occurs to Teru in the most unpleasant of ways that he really, really doesn't know what he's doing.

At all.

And he should probably get in contact with someone who does.

It isn't that Shigeo is sick in obvious ways. He isn't throwing up or unconscious or delirious or anything like that, he's just… very, very still. Quietly miserable and hard to rouse. Lethargic. Feverish, and very. The medicine didn't do its job. It's done nothing but rise since earlier that day and Teru is scared of giving him a second dose.

"Hey, Shigeo?" He shakes his shoulder, and hates the heat he can feel, even through the blanket. "Dude, wake up, I need to take your temperature."

Shigeo doesn't stir at first and Teru's mind leaps to the worst of conclusions, but finally, his eyes slip open. He's flushed now, red in the cheeks and pale everywhere else. His eyes are glassy like marbles and carry only what light is reflected in them from Teru's phone flashlight.

"What?" He sounds groggy. Not entirely there.

Teru kneels by the futon and nods. "Temperature. Think you can keep this under your tongue?"

Shigeo nods and Teru hands it to him, and while he's doing that, gets up and retrieves a fresh cold plaster from the bathroom. He doesn't expect it to do much good, but it's better than nothing.

He returns just as the thermometer beeps, and he kneels down and takes it from Shigeo's clammy fingers. Through the light of his phone, he examines the reading.

39.4

Teru swallows down the bile in his throat. Shigeo doesn't ask him what it says, just shuts his eyes again and curls his fingers by his throat loosely. Teru peels back the not-cold-anymore plaster from his sweaty forehead, brushes his damp hair out of the way, and then replaces it with the fresh one.

He needs to call someone. Someone who'd know what to do, someone who's done this before. Like Reigen. Or Serizawa. Serizawa lives closer, it's be faster, but Reigen might know more, might be able to stand in a crisis better--and Teru still doesn't know Serizawa very well, Reigen is a better bet. Plus, now that he thinks about it, he doesn't even have Serizawa's number.

He checks on Shigeo one more time, makes sure the plaster is properly set on his forehead and the blankets are around his shoulders before he gets to his feet and steps down into the hallway, already dialing and holding the phone to his ear. It's only around 11pm; he doesn't know how late Reigen typically stays up, but--

“Yo, Teruki, what’s up?”

He doesn't sound like someone who'd just woken up. And it only took two rings, too. But Teru doesn't let himself breathe a sigh of relief yet.

"Hi, Reigen," he says, and forces the guilt away before it has the chance to start. This is for Shigeo. "I-I know it's late, I'm sorry, but--Shigeo's at my place, we've been hanging out, but he's sick and his fever spiked and I…” He has to stop and take a breath, suddenly lightheaded. “ I don't know what to do."

Reigen swears under his breath. "Okay, okay--how long's he had the fever?"

"Since before he got here, I think." He's calmer now than before and regains the steadiness of his voice. "But it's gotten a lot higher since then."

"How high?"

"39.4."

Another swear. “Is he awake?”

"On and off. Usually I have to wake him. I gave him medicine earlier, the medicine you brought over last time--I don't think it did anything, though, he's just--he's really sick. I'm--I’m worried. About him."

"Okay, yeah, I'll be over there soon, okay? Give me five minutes."

It's such a relief and Teru can't help but feel the urge to laugh. "Th-Thank you," he breathes.

"Don't mention it, it's alright. Keep an eye on him until I get there, okay?"

"I will, thank you."

“No prob, kiddo. See you in just a minute.”

He hangs up and Teru's hand slumps down to his side, a breath escaping him. It's fine, Reigen will be here soon, it's okay--

"Teru? Was that Reigen?"

"Yeah?" He turns without thinking, and sees Shigeo standing in the doorway on untrustworthy feet. It clicks a second later than it should. "Shige, what are you doing up? You need to rest, come on--"

Shigeo is incredible, he really is. Sweet, clever in his own special ways, golden-hearted and gentle while simultaneously being a force of nature that Teru would never want on his bad side.

But he can also be so, so incredibly dumb. Even when his body sends him every signal it can telling him to stay down and leave the walking to the non-feverish ones, he does it anyway without realizing it.

Teru sees it coming probably before Shigeo knows it is. He sways, the glass in his irises becomes thicker and more heavily clouded, and then--

"Shigeo!"

He teleports, actually, without thinking, and still only just barely catches him before he faceplants the floor. Shigeo slumps and Teru holds him easily; Shigeo doesn't weigh much; but his skin is burning, and his forehead digs into Teru's collarbone and sends him into a panic.

"Hey, are you okay? Are you with me? Hey, Shigeo."

"Sorry." He sounds out of breath, worn out. Sick. "I thought it'd be fine…"

Teru tries to get a better hold, tightening his arms around his shoulders and gripping his shirt with curled fingers. “You're sick, Shige, you need to stay in b--” A shift in Shigeo's weight, and Teru takes all of it. He slips. “Okay, okay we're going down--”

He lets them down as gently as he can, but his knees still hit the floor too hard and he winces, not excited about the bruising. But for now he focuses on Shigeo, who is still a too-warm, too-limp weight against him. It's easier to support him from the ground, though.

Teru maneuvers himself into a somewhat more comfortable spot, legs criss-crossed with Shigeo tucked close and secure. “Damn it, Shige, you need to rest…”

“S… Sorry...”

Teru sighs and rests his chin on the top of his head. “As soon as Reigen gets here, you’re going back to bed and you’re gonna stay there. Okay? You can’t get better if you keep pushing yourself like this, dummy.”

Shigeo nods, and Teru feels it more than anything, but it’s enough for him, for now. If he wants to pursue the argument later (if it’s even worth it), then he can do it later. Right now he really does want Shigeo to rest, so he stays quiet and lets him. His fever is still much, much too high and not getting any lower.

When Reigen knocks at the door, Teru opens it with a flick of his powers and Reigen is on them both immediately. His first question is why they’re on the floor--and of course that’s a valid question--and once Teru’s finished explaining, Reigen wastes no time. He’s gone full mama-bear mode now and it’d take more than Claw’s entire arsenal to stop him.

He carries Shigeo with a brisk powerwalk and Teru jogs to flank him. After that, it’s like a routine. Reigen gets Shigeo to wake up, has him take another dose of medicine, uses a wet rag instead of a plaster (“Easier to deal with. Plus, ice water’s a lot colder.”), checks Shigeo’s fever (39.4 again, holding), and after that there isn’t a lot left to do. Reigen assures Teru that he’s got it covered and he’ll look out for Shigeo now, but it still takes a good hour or two before Teru finally falls asleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Admittedly, the armchair isn’t the best place to sleep, but Shigeo has the futon and for one night, Teru doesn’t mind. He wakes up with a crick in his neck and the feeling that he hadn’t slept at all, but forgives it and sits up. Reigen glances over at him in acknowledgment before returning his gaze to Shigeo. Reigen doesn’t look like he pulled an all-nighter, but there’s no doubt in Teru’s mind about it.

Teru gets to his feet and quietly makes his way over. “How’s he doing?”

“Better,” Reigen answers, scooting over. Teru sits down on the floor beside him. “His fever broke pretty quick after spiking, I’m just letting him rest now.”

Teru nods and looks over Shigeo for himself. He’s still flushed, as to be expected, but it’s lesser now and he’s definitely sleeping more peacefully. The tension in his shoulders ease, and he finally lets himself relax.

“Hey, Teruki.”

“Yeah?”

He turns, and at the same time, Reigen’s hand lands on his shoulder. “I’m glad you called me,” he says with a soft kind of smile that’s a bit uncharacteristic for him, but still perfectly and entirely Reigen. “Actually, I’m proud of you for calling me. It would’ve been easy to just pretend you knew what you were doing, so… thanks, for letting me help out.”

Teru blinks, first at the hand on his shoulder and then at Reigen, but before long he's smiling.

"Thank you for being there," he returns. Reigen's smile redoubles and he ruffles Teru's hair.

It's been hard to train himself out of that mindset of handling things himself, no matter how devastating, but he's gotten better at accepting others' help, whether he wants it or needs it. He isn't perfect yet, but they're getting there. They'll get there.

#cloud writes #hug prompts #prompt fill #drabble #dadreigen #reigen arataka #hanazawa teruki #kageyama shigeo #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #fanfic #i have too many tags for this jksdjflsdflsldfsldfsdf but!!!#i really hope you guys like it!!#i wrote a decent portion on my phone too so I'm sorry about typos ;-;#motivation's been kinda hard to come by lately #but i hope you liked it!#even if it kinda went all over the place sjdkflsldfsdlfsdf #sickfic

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