#/ just a reminder that replies have been (mostly) shoved into the queue so that this blog at least has the illusion of staying active

[bumbleleewrites]

A Warrior’s Vengeance

Summary: After getting destroyed by his brothers, Phil helps Tommy enact some revenge. Sequel to this fic.

[Canon, family dynamics] Lee!Techno, Lee!Wilbur, Ler!Phil, Ler!Tommy. Tommy is 7-8 years old and all characters are aged down accordingly.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Yikes, this took me a while. I apologize if this isn’t my best work, but I’ve been trying to quickly pump out fics so I can queue a few for when I’ll be on vacation.

Frantic footsteps echoed in the narrow corridor as the two escapees sprinted from the room. Techno and Wilbur shared a look before sharply rounding a corner, the latter tripping and stumbling. The other shot him a glare for slowing them down, and mouthed at him to hurry up. Behind them, Phil charged forward, with a playfully menacing look and Tommy clinging to his shoulders. The boy was yelling a ferocious ‘battle cry’, while not threatening in itself, served as a constant reminder to the other pair of their looming presence.

“Here,” Techno hissed, motioning towards Phil’s bedroom as they approached it. 

Wilbur nodded, and the pair ducked into the room, the brunet slamming the door loudly behind them. The older of the two glared at him in a scolding way for his carelessness, before directing him to lean against the wall. The boy complied, attempting to stifle the nervous giggles that began to pour from him. Techno sighed, before taking place next to him. The room was silent, aside from the very faint rustling of leaves outside the home. Techno quietly inched towards the door, pressing his ear against the wooden surface to check for footsteps. When he heard none, he glanced back at his brother, who had his hand over his mouth with a blush creeping up his cheeks. Slowly, placed his hand on the door handle and turned it, pushing the door open with an audible creak. He cautiously stepped out into the hall and peeked side to side. The area was desolate. Techno grabbed the fabric of Wilbur’s sweater and tugged him forward, tiptoeing warily. “Looks like we’re safe,” murmured Techno when they were out the door. 

However, this wasn’t the case. To their right, the sound of stomping feet and a child yelling began to ring out across the space. Stunned, they both turned towards a very determined Phil and Tommy charging down the hall, before realization filled their eyes and they sprinted back into the bedroom. Techno rushed to close the door, but Phil was too quick. The man pushed it open with grandiose and a smirk, unfurling his wings to create a menacing silhouette. Tommy giggled giddily, climbing down from Phil’s shoulders as the man leaned down to allow this. The other two boys inched backward, Wilbur wearing a nervous smile and Techno just barely hiding his. Phil continued to walk forward, before stretching out his wings and trapping them in their hold. Techno squawked in protest and began thrashing wildly, while Wilbur leaned into the man’s chest and continued to giggle nervously. Tommy ran forward, laughing at his brothers’ predicament and eying Phil expectantly.

“Tommy, would you like to help me get you some revenge?” the eldest asked. Techno groaned. “Tommy, don’t you ev-” “Yeah!” the youngest exclaimed.

Phil smiled and grabbed each boy by their shoulder with a strong grip, unfolding his wings. Tommy stepped carefully forward, reaching out hesitantly but looking up at the other blond for instruction. “Hold on, Tommy. I’ll take Techno. You take Wilbur, because he won’t try to get away as much,” he stated genuinely, although upon seeing the brunet’s faint blush and hearing his laughter increase, he decided to add, “I think he likes this, anyway.” Wilbur whined lightly in protest as Phil pushed him aside towards the youngest. Tommy gladly ran at him and tackled him to the ground, made much easier due to the boy’s flustered state. The eldest, in turn, scooped Techno lightly into his arms, who kicked out violently, and laid him on the floor, facing upwards. Phil kneeled next to him and pinned the boy’s wrists above his head, struggling to keep him still. 

Meanwhile, Tommy had sat on Wilbur’s waist. The musician halfheartedly extended his arms towards Tommy, attempting to push him away. The youngest, however, took the opportunity to mimic Phil. He grabbed Wilbur’s outstretched hands and leaned forward, pinning him as well. Wilbur whined, but a sheepish smile remained on his face as he squirmed from anticipation. “Now, Tommy, we need to start off with a good spot. If you go for it right away, it tires them out enough for them to mostly stop fighting back,” Phil explained, looking over at Tommy, who wore an eager grin. The avian grinned down at his son, who was still a thrashing mess underneath him. “I sweHEHEAR-” shouted Techno as Phil dug into his stomach without warning. The boy bit on his lip with force, but nonetheless quickly sputtered into loud, quick laughter, pounding his fists on the floor.

Tommy observed them for a few moments, smiling, before attempting to copy Phil’s actions. He let go of his brother’s wrists and began firmly wiggling his fingers on Wilbur’s stomach, sending him into a fit of giggles. The brunet brought his hands down to hide his face. 

Techno remained cackling, as Phil looked over to the other pair.

“Well, his belly isn’t as ticklish as Techno’s, but you don’t really have to worry about him. He doesn’t put up much of a fight,” the man stated. Tommy nodded understandingly as Wilbur groaned through his laughter. 

Noticing that Techno was already beginning to wheeze, Phil moved his hands to the boy’s sides, squeezing up and down them rapidly. His laughter turned to lighter giggles, and now that the tingling sensations had decreased from their maddening intensity, his squirming increased. He reached out and pushed at Phil’s hands, but the man shook his head and grabbed his wrists. “Techno, you nearly murdered Tommy. It’s only fair that you accept the consequences,” teased Phil. The blond moved Techno’s wrists into one hand, pushed up his shirt, and dropped his wings to the boy’s sides, fluttering them lightly. Techno let out a small snort as his laughter turned even lighter. Phil cooed at him, continuing the motions.

Meanwhile, Tommy had mimicked Phil, and was scribbling his hands on Wilbur’s sides. The brunet’s laughter had increased, and he was now a disheveled mess. His hair was ruffled, giving it the appearance of a haystack, and his face was flushed. It wasn’t being wrecked in itself that flustered him, it was the fact that it was by his own younger sibling. Without warning, the youngest switched tactics. The blond wormed his fingers up Wilbur’s sweater and clawed at his ribs. “Nahah, TohoHOMS!” protested Wilbur, as his laughter increased in volume and he began wheezing ever so slightly. He batted lightly at Tommy’s hands, although halfheartedly. Tommy grinned proudly. “Take that, bitch!” the blond shouted.

Phil snapped his head over, and glared at his youngest son playfully.

“Tommy, you know you’re not supposed to say that,” he warned, although his tone was light. He turned back towards Techno, lifting his wings up so they were hovering just slightly over the boy’s skin. “You ready?” the avian asked with a grin. “No,” replied Techno in his flat tone, which was slightly ruined by the wobbly grin that remained on his face. “Too bad, then.” Phil dropped Techno’s hands and skittered his fingers lightly over Techno’s stomach, as he brought his wings back down to trace softly over his sides. Techno dissolved into giggles, squeezed his eyes shut, and allowed a few undignified snorts to escape him. “Aw, you really are part pig, aren’t you?” Phil teased, with adoration in his eyes. “Sh- shuhuhut uhup!” Techno retorted, attempting to sit up to move Phil’s hands. In his weakened state, however, he was unable to do so. He instead settled for pointless thrashing, which made Phil chuckle. “Alright, I think you’ve had enough,” said Phil, finally taking mercy on him. He slowed his hands and wings, giving his navel one last light stroke with his feathers before standing up cautiously. He was startled, however, by a loud yell from Wilbur. “ToHOmmyhyhy! Plehehease, Ihi- I’m sohorrYHY!” he laughed. Tommy was kneading his hips as Wilbur shook his head madly, covering his reddened face with his palms. “That’s not good enough, Wil, I’m just getting revenge!” Tommy stated, experimentally drilling his fingers in the same spot. Wilbur cackled loudly before his laughter turned silent. “You too, Tommy, that’s enough,” intervened Phil. After ridding himself of the ghost tickles, Techno had stood up, and was watching the others with a slight amused smile.

Tommy whined, but complied, clumsily getting off of his brother and plopping down on the floor next to him. Wilbur giggled for a few moments, before rubbing his face and sitting up. He ran a hand through his messy hair and glanced around at the others, who were watching him fondly. “Wh- what?” he panted, his blush beginning to fade.

Techno merely chuckled and turned to leave the room, not before giving Phil a light shove. 

“You just sat there and took it, Wilblee, you nerd,” he stated matter-of-factly with a sly smirk, and strode off haughtily. Wilbur gaped at him, a slight pink tinge returning to his cheeks, before he got up and ran after him. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that!” he growled, chasing Techno, who began darting down the hall. Phil watched them leave, crossing his arms with a bemused expression. “Wilb… lee…?” asked Tommy curiously. Phil sighed softly, not feeling like explaining, and walked over. He scooped Tommy into his arms, carrying him out of the room. The boy kicked his legs in protest for a moment, before falling limp in his arms and letting his head rest against the man’s chest. The eldest walked in the direction of the other pair, following the sound of their shouting. “Come on, Toms, it looks like there’s going to be another show. Or battle, should I say.”

They both smiled.

#dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #lee!techno #lee!wilbur #ler!phil #ler!philza #ler!tommy #tickle fic #almost forgot to tag this whoops

[akaashisupremacy]

Just a Holidate

Summary: You and Kuroo agree to be holidates. What could possibly go wrong? 

Notes: The Usher karaoke scene is inspired by @sugardaddykenma ‘s hq x usher confession album post  which you desperately need to check out. In general, I love to write for Kuroo. Check out another fic here and my Masterlist. 

Kuroo  x reader  

genre: Christmas fluff, angst, a sprinkling of crack, ficlet  (wc: 1.2 k)

“What are you doing on the godforsaken app?!” Kuroo Tetsuro peers over your shoulder, bending down to look at your phone.

“I’m aggressively swiping for a holidate,” you scowl. Dating apps are self-explanatory enough, “And there are not enough available people with cars.”

“That’s rather materialistic of you.” he comments, straightening up his back.

Both of you have just finished a coffee get-together with some friends from your middle school, the first of many holiday engagements to come. Many of you went off to separate high schools but still kept in touch.

“Tetsuro, I’m here for holiday fun,” you roll your eyes, “I’m not looking for a life partner with outstanding moral character.”

A snicker escapes him. Sounds fair.

“What’s your radius?” He asks curiously.

“5 miles I think.” You shrug.

“If you make it 7, I have a car.” He smirks.

——————————————

“I can’t believe I took you up on your offer,” you say incredulously, “And that you’re requiring me to go to your parties too.”

The first of your holiday parties is actually not yours, but Kuroo’s instead. In the interest of fairness, he insisted you have to go to his engagements as well.

“It’s called a two-way street.” He tuts, locking up his car.  

Kuroo picked you up earlier this evening to go to a karaoke reunion with his old team mates from Nekoma. As you walk to karaoke place, you bring up an old memory.

“Every time I think about you and karaoke, I remember the time where you and Yaku serenaded a girl with an unsolicited Usher song with the rest of the volleyball team as your backup singers.” you chuckle.

“Wait—who told you about that?” His face glows bright red. It’s unusual to see Kuroo caught off guard. “I was black out drunk and it was on a dare, okay?!”

You wiggle your fingers, “It’s a secret.”

The receptionist leads you to the reserved room. The room is dark, lit only by brightly colored blue and green lights. The wall paper looks like it was designed by someone on hallucinogens. You turn to him with a questioning gaze.

“Don’t look at me. This was Yaku’s idea.” he raises his brow.

He quickly introduces you to his friends before they hand you the list of available songs and the remote control.

“If you want to sing, we can queue something for you.” he mindlessly browses.

An idea goes off your head. When he stands up to  order for some drinks, you quickly queue a surprise in a few minutes.

“Who queued Simple Things by Usher?” calls out Tora. You see Kuroo’s ears perk up from across the room and his eyes widen in a mix of alarm and amusement as the opening notes play.

“It’s Kuroo’s song!” you call out in reply, “Can you hand him the mic?”

Tora shoves him the mic. The Nekoma team start to cheer in anticipation. He  glare at you mischievously grin and give him a thumbs up from your seat.

He slowly grabs the mic and mouths, “I’m getting you back for this...”

————————————————

Despite not having gotten over the trauma from his Usher karaoke, Kuroo still insists on having you come as his date. You admire him for his persistency.

He’s not terrible by any standard. He’s even kind of fun, so even though you’d rather stay home some night, you never really regret having gone out with him.

“Kenma’s place, 8 pm, drinks and Cards Against Humanity.” he calls one evening, “It’s kind of last minute, but can you make it?”

Kuroo calls out of the blue. It’s 9 am on a Saturday morning.

“Probably not, I’m going to decorate my apartment.” you reply, untangling some lights with one hand. He hears the shuffling over the phone.

“But it’s so close to the holidays?” he asks, somewhat confused as to why you’d choose to decorate so late into the season.

“It’s mostly just lights,” you sigh, “I didn’t have the money to buy them earlier this month so I only got them now. This is important to me, Tetsuro. My parents used to never allow me to decorate their house. Now that I have my own place and time, I wanna do this.”

When you are met with silence, you become defensive, “I knew you wouldn’t under—“

“If I come help, can you go?” he interjects.

In less than half an hour, he quietly gets to work untangling and hanging your lights. He even goes back into his car to get his toolbox and some supplies.

Kuroo is so silent when he’s concentrating you’re a little freaked out.

“You’ve changed, Kuroo.” you murmur, “High school you would've been making hot takes and calling me chibi-chan, but you’re actually doing something nice for me.”

“I like to think I’ve matured since then.” he raises a brow at you.

He twists some hooks onto the surface and you hammer some nails on the other end of the same wall.

“You’re really into this holidate thing,” you comment, “Didn’t think you’d be so extra, but thanks for helping me out.”

“No problem,” he utters, eyes glued to his work, “I’m just tired of showing up alone. Most of the guys are in long-term relationships and I’m still extremely single.”

“But why are you being so extra? Is it really the single-ness?”

He glances at you and rolls his shoulders back.

“‘I've always thought you were kinda cute…and spunky…and really nice. Even if sometimes I’d annoy you, you’d still help me out when we were in junior high. Do you remember that?” he tilts his head, “Which I guess peaks to as you put it, your great moral character…I guess I just wanted to see if you still live up to that image of you I’ve built up in my head.”

You let out a small laugh.

“Do I?”

Without skipping a beat, he clears his throat and replies “Yeah, you’re even better than I thought you’d be.” You’re surprised by the lack of his usual bravado. He almost seems…shy.

“So you’re to debunk your middle school crush on me basically.”

“Among other things,” he smirks, “I like spending time with you though. I like who I am when I’m with you.” A small smile wipes the smirk off his face. A certain vulnerability permeates his tone.

“Okay, I think this is it.” He steps back from his handiwork and hands you the plug.

“Go ahead. See if it works.”

You plug the lights in and your apartment is aglow of fairy lights. A hush falls between the two of you, both at a loss words. Your apartment even looks better than it was in your head.

“Not bad,” he nods in approval.

You slowly turn to him.

“Thanks, Tetsuro, this is the best present ever.” you beam at him, before turning back to your handiwork.

He feels unexpectedly moved by your reaction. He mumbles a “no problem” and stands a little closer to you.

“You’re not so bad a holidate yourself. I might actually miss this when the holidays are over.” you chuckle.

Kuroo wants to reach out behind your shoulders but stops himself. He is harshly reminded that he’s a temporary companion. As he watches your face by warm yellowish lights, he takes in each detail of your features.

In case things could somehow miraculously work out, he wants to remember this night as the night he fell for you. But until that happens, he readies his heart to be broken because he’s just a holidate after all.

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

Taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan @kaizumi @holaaaf @glxar

Comment or message to be added to the taglist! :D 

#flightlessworks #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo x gender neutral reader #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo tetsuro x reader #hq imagines #hq x y/n #hq x reader #hq x you #hq fanfic #kuroo tetsuro #haikyuu #haikyuu x self insert #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x y/n

[sambergscott]

a peralta guarantee

“I promise I’ll come home safe, Ames. That’s a Peralta Guarantee.”

(missing scenes from 7x08 - amy worrying about jake)

hUge thanks to johanna for inspiring this fic and helping when i had a lil breakdown halfway through

When he approaches her desk mid-afternoon with a decaf coffee and the white chocolate chip cookies she’s been craving from the bakery across town, she knows he’s either a) broken something, b) wants something or c) has bad news. She narrows her eyes suspiciously, detecting an excited bounce in his step which can only mean it’s b and c; he wants something she’s not going to like.

“Hey, babe,” he tries to play it cool, clearing a butt-sized space on her desk on which to sit. “I come bearing gifts.”

“What do you want, Peralta?” She cuts to the chase.

“Damn it, you know me too well,” he mutters. “OK, so, here’s the thing: Doug Judy’s gettin’ married. He invited me to his Bachelor Party this weekend and I know he’s a criminal, Ames, but I really wanna go. Like, so bad. Would you be cool with that?”

She conjures up a mental pro and con list. On one hand, Doug Judy is The Pontiac Bandit, known felon, committer of God knows how many crimes, an overall bad dude. On the other, he’s Jake’s friend, singer of the smush songs CD in the glove box of their car that they always forget to take out, giver of the Le Creuset pot she adores. He’s always been nice to her and—.

“Sarge?” Gary interrupts her decision-making process with a quick question about a perp he just brought in, snapping her back to reality. She’s a Police Sergeant, her job is to serve and protect the city they call home and as much as she loves cooking her mom’s beef casserole recipe in Judy’s awesome wedding gift, she has a responsibility to bring him in.

“I’m sorry, babe. I just think it’s a bad idea.”

His face falls, his disappointment coming through loud and clear.

“What were you expecting me to say? Ignore the million arrest warrants out on this guy, many of them submitted by you, so you can drink beer and go to strip clubs?”

“You’re right,” he sighs. “You’re obviously right. Man, being good at your job sucks.”

She nods in agreement. “Remember last month when I had to shut that binder store down for running a secret drug dealing operation out back?”

“How could I forget? You cried for three days straight.”

“They had the best binder collection I’ve ever seen!”

(It was actually what was so fishy about it. In four trips to buy pregnancy binders, she hadn’t seen any of the founding members of the Brooklyn Binder Babes blog — Mary Sue, Catherine, Margaret or Jane — once. And there’s no way a stationery start-up would attract such long queues without their recommendation. It was a pretty easy solve from there).

“The point is, you can’t go to a criminal’s Bachelor Party.” She pats his hand. “You’ll just have to come maternity clothes shopping with me instead. None of my jeans fit me anymore.”

“As much as I would love to, you can take Kylie. I’m going to the party.”

“What?” She double-takes. “Jake, did you not listen to what I literally just said? We’re cops. We cannot be friends with criminals.”

“But we can be friends with informants who have helped us catch numerous, even bigger, more dangerous criminals,” he says with that look on his face, the one he gets when he finds a loophole that he can use to his advantage. She recognises it from home videos Karen has shown her where, instead of tidying his room like she asked him to, seven year old Jake shoves everything under his bed and carries on enacting a police chase with his race cars. “Captain Holt has given him immunity before, so technically I should be able to go party it up with him in Miami!”

“Wait... It’s in Miami? Miami... Florida?”

It’s a stupid question, she knows. Of course he means Miami, Florida. It’s just... they both promised on the flight home that they would never, ever go back there. After everything that happened with Figgis and not knowing if they’d ever see each other again, a statewide travel ban seemed a good way to put it all behind them, focus on all their future moments together, not on all the moments they missed.

“This isn’t like last time,” he reassures her. “It’s only for a weekend and then I’ll be coming straight home for snuggles with you and —,” he lowers his voice to a whisper because they haven’t told anyone she’s pregnant yet, “the baby.”

Her eyes fill with tears and she bites her lip so hard to stop them overflowing in front of all her uniformed officers. It’s pretty clear that he wants to go and she never wants to be one of them wives who control their husbands’ every move. All she wants is for him to be happy. And if going to Doug Judy’s Bachelor Party makes him happy, he should go, no matter how much she hates the entire state of Florida. She agrees, on one condition: “You have to text me hourly updates to let me know that you’re still alive.”

“Don’t I text you constantly anyway?”

“I guess so,” she sniffs.

He lifts her chin so she’s looking him in the eyes. “I promise I’ll come home safe, Ames. That’s a Peralta guarantee.”

“You better,” she warns, tears suddenly flowing down her face at the thought of him not coming home, not being there to watch Property Brothers with her, not raising their baby and proving to everyone what a great dad he will be.

Used to her extra strength pregnancy hormones shifting her emotions from 0 to 100 faster than John McClane can say “Yippie-Ki-Yay, motherfucker”, he pulls her into a tight hug, careful not to crush the precious cargo that is behind said mood swings.

He strokes her hair and whispers that he’ll be home before she knows it and that nothing, not even the worst state in the country, will tear him away from her.

When it’s time for him to leave, she follows him out to the street and, after a brief argument over the fact he packed his bag before he OK’ed the trip with her and another hormone-induced cry when his cab shows up, reluctantly waves goodbye.

True to his word, he texts her before the car is even out of sight. Miss you already 😘.

--

Her phone buzzes periodically throughout the rest of the day.

In a meeting with Holt and Terry: flying on mark cuban’s dope ass private plane!!!!! ✈️

Cooking dinner: florida is HOT (not as hot as u babe, dont worry)

Doing her crossword in bed: g’night ames, g’night baby, love u both SO MUCH

She smiles, tells him she loves him too and braces herself for the barrage of drunk texts and selfies coming her way.

--

Sleeping without him sucks. The bed is cold, her pregnancy pillow is not as good of a cuddle buddy and she tosses and turns all night worrying about him, where he is, what he’s doing, whether he’s safe.

Her eyes finally slip shut around 1 am when her phone buzzes. Again. And again. And again.

She tries to ignore him, bury her head under her pillow and go back to sleep, but the messages keep coming thick and fast. She groans, giving up and unlocking her phone.

There are 47 new messages from him.

Forty-seven.

Her initial annoyance at being woken up quickly disappears as she scrolls through the thread. He’s mostly sent her random, meaningless emojis and keysmashes, interspersed with the odd “I love you”, “you’re my best friend” and “I’m thinking about you” that warm her heart. He mentions something about their proposal, about crying with Doug Judy, which obviously makes her cry too.

(Dumb pregnancy hormones).

By the time she reaches the bottom, he’s sent her 10 more.

She decides for her sake — and the sake of all of her officers who would have to deal with a tired, emotional pregnant lady — to turn off her phone and reply to him in the morning.

She returns her phone to her nightstand, settles back into a comfortable position and closes her eyes.

She lies motionless for what feels like hours, unable to fall asleep. She tries the breathing technique her brother David brags about constantly, counting sheep like little Matthew, even reciting police codes like Teddy used to go to sleep after sex. Nothing works. She’s still awake.

She turns her phone back on to see what Jake’s up to now, only to see his messages ended abruptly with a caterpillar emoji over an hour ago.  

She immediately panics, dialling 911 into her phone.

Her thumb hovers over the green call button.

She’s heard thousands of crazy operator call stories, frequently reminded the general population to only call in a genuine emergency and watched the YouTube compilations for fun. She deletes the number, positive that if she told an operator her husband was missing because she hadn’t heard from him while he’s at a Bachelor Party, she’s positive she would be added to those videos.

In an attempt to stop her spiral, she contemplates the possible scenarios in which his constant texts would cease.

Scenario 1: He’s living in the moment and has put his phone away (something she has been encouraging him to do lately to reduce his screen time)

Scenario 2: He’s very drunk and has completely forgotten about his promise

Scenario 3: He used up all his battery texting her and his phone has died

Scenario 4: He’s fallen asleep (although a quick check of Trudy Judy’s insta reveals the party is very much still in full flow)

Scenario 5: Judy’s criminal buddies have killed him and thrown his body into the ocean

Once the thought pops into her head, no amount of squeezing her eyes shut will make the image go away.

Holt giving an emotional eulogy about wearing ties and being an amazing detective/genius.  

Some rookie taking over his desk.  

The sympathetic looks when she tells all the other moms in baby group that her husband died.  

Usually Jake is there to hold her when her nightmares get bad. She rolls over, expecting to see his kind eyes and soft smile, the untouched side of his bed only serving to make her cry harder.

She can’t lose him. Not yet. Not until they’re old and grey, and maybe not even then. She spent so long denying her feelings for her dorky partner, rueing every missed opportunity to be together, and when they finally, finally took the plunge, she had never been happier. She can’t lose him yet. They have so much more life left to live.

She can’t lose him because he promised her he would come home safe. He guaranteed it.

She clings onto the tiny grain of hope like one might cling onto a raft in the middle of the ocean.

He would never break a Peralta guarantee.

--

Her phone finally buzzes again an hour later.

From: Unknown

Ames, it’s me, Jake. Judy’s buddies found out I’m a cop + destroyed my phone. So sorry I couldn’t text before. Hope you didn’t worry too much, although I know you probably haven’t slept. You can stop worrying now. I’m safe. Love you + see you tomorrow.  

Love you too, she responds, yawning as she places the phone back on the side table.

Relieved that he’s OK, and exhausted from all the worrying, she falls into the easiest sleep she’s ever had.

--

Before she knows it, it’s the next afternoon, Jake’s keys are turning in the lock, he’s dropping his holdall on the floor and rushing to her side to kiss her all over her face.

“I missed you too,” she laughs, kissing him properly.

“Sorry it took so long — Doug and Trudy made me fly commercial —.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re home now. That’s all that matters.”

“I’m never leaving you two again,” he swears.

“You’ll have to leave us eventually to go to the bathroom and stuff,” she points out, raking her fingers through the unruly curls that she so hopes their baby will inherit. “Just don’t go back there.”

A solemn understanding passes over his face and he nods. “Never again. Not even if our kid wants to go to Disney World. We’ll take them to the California one instead.”

“Smort,” she says, stealing his line and in an instant, that familiar grin is back.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

A dozen memories flood back, of oldies in short shorts and shuffleboard and Doug Judy getting away again. Of noice and smort and saying “I love you” for the very first time. Her eyes fill with tears — dumb pregnancy hormones strike again — as she buries her face in his shoulder.

“Let’s go to bed,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and lifting her bridal style to carry her to their room. He places her carefully onto the mattress and flops down next to her.

She snuggles into him, eyes closing once more. “Did we even get an invite to the wedding?”

“Not even close,” he sighs.

“Damn it. I would’ve loved to see that trainwreck.”

“You and me both, babe. You and me both.”

#b99 fic #jake x amy #my writing #it's taken me 2 full days to write this lemme know what you think

[anotherhumanpet]

Role Play Rules || Mobile

The Basics

No godmodding. This means you’re not allowed to dictate how my characters react/respond to anything, your characters cannot know everything/all the secrets about my characters without a good reason (such as being told this information by my characters or another character who knows, or getting my okay in OOC chat), assume a major development between my characters and yours, or have your character successfully nail every attack they make against mine and-or dodging/blocking every attack my characters make against yours.

Please bear in mind that Jaden is not a publicly known figure. For a variety of reasons, which can be read up on in his about page, he's mostly hidden from the majority of the world and only known to those he reveals himself to or those he is revealed to by others. So please do not assume your muse knows him or can recognize him easily unless we've discussed it beforehand.

Anything that’s tagged as “Dennis blogging” or “Jaden blogging” can be (and should be) considered an open post! I just don’t like using the actual “open post” tag because my anxiety doesn’t want to be seen by all of the RPC.

Any memes found under the “prompts” tag are always open for acceptance, no matter how old they are. If it’s been more than 24 hours since their initial posting though please send them with a reminder about what meme they’re attached to so I can refresh myself on the context/potential settings.

Communicate with me if there are any issues or confusion about something

Muses =/= Mun; The character thoughts/opinions are not the writer’s thoughts/opinions

Be patient for replies, I often like to shove them into my queue system and that can take up to weeks before posting something. I do this because I work a full time job, so I am busy and quite tired. Send me a reminder after 48 hours if you think it’s necessary

Mun and Jaden are above the age of consent; Dennis is not. Mun details can be found here.

The Finer Points

Fights, Darker Themes, and Plotting

If we haven’t plotted for our muses to engage in combat or any sort of abusive scenario then please ask if it’s alright to shift gears towards that kind of scene first. I am open to writing any kind of violent scene but generally terrible at writing action, and very picky about what abusive themes I’ll engage with, so please don’t surprise me with either of the two.

Potentially violent scenarios don’t have to be a fully detailed disclosure either. It could be as simple as, “X wants to punch Y” and if I’m okay with it I’ll say “Palpatine voice: Dew it.” Then, we can begin discussing/plotting how the fight will go.

Truthfully speaking as well, I have very little combat writing experience so please have patience with my reply timing and be aware that I’ll most likely ask a lot of questions to make sure I’m understanding things correctly. I’m pretty much a newbie when it comes to this theme and I have trouble picturing written action, which makes it difficult for me to understand what’s going on.

If you do not have the patience for this though that’s okay too. We can handwave the scene to an agreed ending and move on our with our lives, no problem.

Certain forms of abuse and toxic personality traits are a major turn off for my muse, due to personal reasons that can be loosely boiled down to PTSD. So if I say no to something - whether it’s a plot or an entire muse - please respect that boundary. I will not write themes with:

Domestic abuse

Parental abuse

Emotional abuse

If you have any questions about what is or isn’t okay with me, feel free to ask! I take no offense to/I am okay with being asked for details because there is no harm in discussing limits. This is just a general guideline to help you understand what I’m not okay with.

I also have a small exception for Jaden’s previous abuse. That is free-for-all for any sort of discussion, thread, asks, whatever. I may abruptly disengage from things if it gets to be too much, but I’m open to anything happening for the time being.

Don’t spring plots on me without discussing them beforehand. I’m not against plots happening, I just don’t like being surprised.

Text Patterns

“This is speech - AKA the things said aloud and audible to others in hearing range. Things said over/through a communication device will be written like this too.”

This is flavor text to go around the speech.

Full sentences in italics are typically going to be thoughts. Words that are italicized in the middle of an unformatted sentence are for emphasis, like bolding.

[::This is a text message for Dennis, typically used in any device-to-device conversations.]

|–This is a text message for Jaden, typically used in any device-to-device conversations.|

((This is out-of-character text on a post, in a reply, or in tags.))

Semi-Selective

I’m semi-selective in following for dash organization and cleanliness. It’s nothing personal against anyone or any blogging behavior, I’m just very worn out from my job and want to be able to focus on certain things with ease.

You are more than welcome to interact with me even if I’m not following you. Please don’t feel anxious or shy, just come say hi OOCly or throw your muse at mine ICly.

Duplicate & Multiverse Friendly

I’ll play with any character - canon or OC - and I’m not exclusive with anyone either so I’m more than happy to play with multiple versions of the same character.

I’ll play with any character regardless of where their base continuity is or if they’re something completely original. Dennis and Jaden are fixed in a TF:P based world but that doesn’t mean they can’t branch out of it.

I’ve spent a lot of time building the world Dennis lives in though so the characters that exist in his world are NPCs - meaning there’s really no assuming or fulfilling the role. Everything and everyone is from the multiverse from his perspective.

M!A Spells & Anonymous Interaction

I will accept all magic anons (M!As) but I retain the right to turn down/delete ones that do not strike my interest or make me feel uncomfortable. If the latter happens, I will do my best to elaborate on what exactly made me uncomfortable so it can be avoided in the future.

General messages will be answered normally and treated like messages on the datanet. Anonymous messages that suggest, imply, or depict physical interaction with a muse will be treated like an NPC.

#mobile info post #mobile rules

[miraculouscontent]

Could we know More about this completely hypothetical situation, please?

Ah, yes, of course. *ahem* Well, in this completely hypothetical situation…

After Marinette opens the blog to fan submissions (it’s a subpage, so only people who subscribe to it get daily updates), Trixx is put in charge of accepting/rejecting.

Trixx is also aware of how Marinette downplays Chat’s behavior to Fu to keep the peace, along with the fact that people are quick to make fun of and mock Chat’s behavior. Thus, the Chat memes fill up the queue for approval and Trixx lets the funnier (and sometimes more critical) ones slip.

(Just to give you guys a scope of how frustrated people get with Chat, the beginning of “Weredad” happens after “Oblivio” in this AU. Won’t talk specifics, but I’ll just let anyone who remembers what happened there imagine how the public would react to Chat’s casual behavior during a certain part of it.)

Chat doesn’t follow the blog actively after a while, only checking back every now and then. However, he eventually catches wind of what’s happening and goes to Ladybug about it.

Ladybug really did think it was going to be a normal patrol.

She was wrong.

She’d just been standing there, waiting for Chat to arrive for patrol. She pulled out her yoyo, opening it to check on LadyBugOut.

But, before she could even touch the yoyo’s screen, a black, gloved hand had slapped it away. Her yoyo careened across the flat rooftop, stopping a solid distance away. It sat there pathetically, screen still opened.

At first, Ladybug could only stare at her fallen yoyo, in complete disbelief that someone had honestly just come out of nowhere and done that.

And that wasn’t even taking into account who’d done it in the first place.

After a few seconds, Ladybug finally looked up, staring blankly at a very angry Chat. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could even get a syllable out, Chat unleashed all of his frustration.

“Do you think this is funny?! Is this some sort of joke to you?!”

Ladybug blinked, confused and startled by the outburst. “I–I’m sorry?”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it!”

Given his current emotional state, she wasn’t going to bother explaining that she wasn’t actually apologizing and was just confused.

Chat, still fuming, turned his attention to one of his pockets. Unzipping it, he reached inside and pulled out a phone. After doing what looked like unlocking it, he shoved it into Ladybug’s hands.

“Explain this!” he demanded.

She gave him a look, vaguely wondering how he could just go up to her, knock her yoyo away, and then order her to do something, but she went along with it.

Looking down at the phone, Ladybug noted that it was the LadyBugOut website. Specifically, the fan submissions page.

She stared blankly, even squinting a bit as she tried to figure out what he was so angry about.

“I… don’t–”

“These!” Chat yelled, pointing at the screen.

He was pointing to an assortment of memes of all things; memes that people had made of him.

Some were admittedly a little mean, but they were mostly harmless. Even a screenshot of her destroyed bedroom (thanks, Gigantitan) was followed by a fake Chat caption of, “I could go check on the creator of m’lady’s blog, but my jokes are a full-time job.”

Ladybug glanced back up at him. “Chat, they’re just–”

“They’re mocking me!” Chat interjected. “They all are! Ever since LadyBugOut started, everyone wants to get on my case for every little thing!”

“…We’re heroes, Chat,” she gently reminded him. “That’s why I take heroism very seriously–”

“Is that why you did this then?!” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “You let people post this stuff just to try and prove me wrong?!”

“Wha–no,” she replied bluntly. “I don’t approve these. Someone else does.”

Chat huffed, turning away with a scowl. “It’s just never your fault, is it?! It’s always someone else’s!”

Ladybug ignored his comment and continued, “I can’t run everything on LadyBugOut myself. I have a lot of people helping me out.”

A hiss followed. “Not me.”

She sighed. “We’re the two most active heroes, Chat. It’s a lot of work maintaining the blog. We usually have to split up right after a fight, so I knew it’d be weird having you on video inconsistently.

“Plus, you said you’d support my blog. You didn’t say that you wanted to help.”

Chat spun around, hand on his chest. “You didn’t ask!”

She gave him a flat, knowing look. “You’re always so quick to invite me out to places. I figured you’d insist on helping as soon as I mentioned it, if you’d really wanted to help.”

Chat opened his mouth, but stopped as her words caught up to him. His fake cat ears pointed up in surprise and he even let out a strangled noise.

“Y-you–!”

Ladybug shrugged. “I know you’re mad Chat, but I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Still seeing her yoyo laying sadly nearby, she moved towards it.

Before she could even take two steps, she felt a hand grab her arm. The pull had more than enough force to make her look back at Chat.

He clearly wasn’t done talking.

“Chat–” Ladybug glanced back at her yoyo, about to ask him if she could at least put it back on her waist.

Then, her eyes fell upon the screen, which wasn’t the same as it had been before it’d initially hit the rooftop.

Her eyebrows rose in shock.

Immediately, she turned back to Chat. “Look, Chat–it-it’s okay. Calm down–”

Chat bristled, looking offended by the request. “Calm down?! You want me to be calm after all this?!”

“Chat, please, the yoyo–”

“What did I do to you, Ladybug?!” he asked.

Ladybug, now tense, tried to raise her voice so she couldn’t be interrupted again. “Nothing! Seriously, Chat–”

“Why are you trying to ruin what we have together?!” He pulled her closer, his hand still tight around her forearm. “We’re meant to be! The ladybug and the cat! Ladybug and Chat Noir! What do you have against destiny?”

Ladybug was about to respond, but paused, momentarily brought out of her panic by what he’d just said. “I–I just–wait–what?”

“How am I supposed to believe that some other guy can just come between us after everything we’ve been through? We flirt, we kissed twice, and we end up on each other all the time. We’re partners; special partners! We were chosen! We’re soulmates! What’s so hard about that?”

It was like the world had come to a halt. Ladybug felt a fire flaring up in her chest, and her free hand tightened into a fist.

She stepped back, pulling her arm free from Chat’s grip. She’d done it so abruptly that he jerked forward, even letting out an annoyed, “Hey!”

She didn’t listen, standing straight and firm. “First off, the world does not revolve around you, Chat! I never told anyone to come after you and I am not in charge of what people have said. Not everything I do has to do with you or our relationship!

Speaking of which, our relationship does not exist. We are not a couple. You kept that idea going for people and you are the one who’s upset that it’s not going how you want!”

Chat went to speak up, but Ladybug spoke first, the strength in her voice ensuring that he wouldn’t cut her off this time.

“Secondly, if I’d known that that’s how you saw all that banter, I never would’ve done it. I’m not flirting with you, Chat. Even I know that things get tense and it helps to lighten the mood with some banter, but clearly, that went right over your head.

“Thirdly, you seem to keep forgetting how those kisses happened, and that’s exactly because you never remembered in the first place. The first time, you were under Dark Cupid’s spell and I kissed you to save you. I didn’t want to do it, but I did to break the spell.

“Neither of us had our memories for Oblivio, and yeah, maybe something special happened. But, all that happened without us knowing about our experiences, our relationships with other people, and even who we were. That doesn’t sound very real to me. If I was going to kiss you, I’d rather have everything already be on the table.”

She stepped forward. Chat stepped back, still tense but too shocked to say anything.

Ladybug continued, “You want to know what you did wrong? Maybe it’s because, after all this time, you still can’t read me. Not on Face-to-Face, not when my voice was gone, and not when I needed you most. If you could’ve understood me, you would’ve seen when I was uncomfortable, known when I needed you to be serious, and–oh, yeah–”

She took a deep breath, not giving him a moment to respond before shouting, “–you would’ve noticed that I was trying to get your attention before because my yoyo has been RECORDING AND STREAMING EVERYTHING.”

The wind stilled. The world around them was silent. Neither of them even moved. They just stood there, staring at each other.

Chat’s eyes wavered. The anger from his face turned to dread. His fingers twitched.

Ladybug closed her eyes, wordlessly turning away from him and stepping towards her yoyo. Part of her expected him to grab her arm again, but he didn’t.

She picked up her yoyo, shutting it to stop the recording. She stroked along the surface, which was still unharmed, then let out a breath.

When she turned back around, Chat was gone.

#category: long post #word count: over 1000 #MC's Collabs #collab: LadyBugOut AU #MC's Writing #writing: story #other: ask and answer

[onstarsandiron]

Band AU Outline

Because where else am I going to put this?

[Lol I made it long, it’s under the readmore]

Scene 1 is Jax is trying to get coffee for his shitty boss and this asshole bumps into him, spills it all over him, and has the goddamn nerve to not stick around. Jax doesn’t know how he feels about the $50 bill casually thrown at him before Asshole runs off

Scene 2 is Robb arriving late to after school rehearsal and smelling faintly like coffee and his stupid brother is there and sneers at him because Eric is sooooo perfect and Eric gets to be the one that plays the violin, the instrument that everyone likes, and Robb is here playing the bass. Well fuck you, Eric, because Robb’s a damn good bass player and he actually likes how it sounds, thank you very much. If he’d gotten stuck with the viola he would have killed himself; he’d literally be second fiddle to Eric.

Scene 3 is Jax on his lunch break talking to Ana about their bassist or something I think? 

Scene 4 is Robb secretly practicing his electric bass in a quiet part of the mansion, like he always does, playing along with youtube videos and learning whatever he feels like

Scene 5 is Jax arriving at the venue and finally feeling the stress of the day wash off a little

Scene 6 is Robb arriving at the venue; he’s got a genuine ticket, but he brought his electric bass to try and say he’s part of the opening act or something and get backstage to try and get an autograph (maybe got dared to get one?) This goes, of course, wrong when the stage runner insists on personally seeing him to the correct dressing room saying they’ve been looking for their goddamn bassist all over the place, where the fuck have you been? and just shoves him in 

Queue: “YOU!” “Me?” Robb studied the other’s face, looking for where he’d know those features from. Suddenly it came to him. Oh. Oh no. Coffee boy. “Oh no,” Rob said, unable to help it, “Me.” 

Robb fucking OWES Jax for that bullshit, he may have payed for replacement coffee, but you can’t pay for replacement dignity, and that was his FAVORITE sweater. What’s that instrument he has? A bass? Fucking good because Barger is a no-show and they’re on in 15. 

Ana’s drums, Di does keyboard and synth, Jax is lead (only) guitar and lead (only) singer -- Di cannot carry a note to save the galaxy and Ana gets too excited and just ends up screaming more than singing (you physically cannot stop her from doing this, mind you, so mostly Jax just doesn’t give her a mic. It helps only so very much. To be fair, it is Ana’s band, so she has a certain right to do whatever she wants) They are the Dossier [Idk if I wanna include Xu and Elara in here yet; if I do, Elara’s a techie and Xu is additional tech support + Social media manager/marketing/gig booking/etc]

Queue the gang tearing up Robb’s pretty boy outfit to get grungier bc if you believe Ana started some kinda new wave bullshit band full of crooners you’re goddamn wrong. They do loud hard rock and you can die made about it. Also Jax applies Robb’s eyeliner and Robb has never had a more intimate moment with an individual without actually touching one another in his life. 

Then there’s the show. Lucky for Robb they’re playing all covers and it’s stuff that he knows. unluckily for Robb, it’s completely different to playing quietly in his tucked away chamber to youtube videos. He makes do, though. 

He’s kind of mouthing along to the words he knows and then he’s singing them quietly and then he’s singing them outright and then Jax notices and somehow there’s now been a mic placed in front of him and he’s become backup vocals now and if he believed in fake things he’d think Jax was actually pleased about this. Wow, performing sure makes your heart beat hard.

Then they’re taking a bow and off the stage before he even knows it. He thinks now he’ll be shooed off, but actually they let him watch the actual concert with them and then there’s like an after party and they let him tag along and actually he has a really good time (He gets that autograph he wanted too lol)

Like a week later he gets a call from Ana -- Di had made him sign a goddamn liability waiver including personal and emergency contact info -- and turns out that Barger skipped town for reasons which are genuinely undisclosed but 99% probably because he has a gambling problem. They need a new bassist. He worked out well in a pinch, does he think he can make practices monday at 7? 

So that’s how Robb starts sneaking around to be in this band and play little gigs here and there and it isn’t the sort of places anyone from his circle would be involved in and it isn’t so big that he’s so very worried about an internet presence (he does “”Shyly”” hide behind his hand when Di tries to get pictures for their social media). Robb like tells his mom he’s doing some extracurricular thing and turns his phone off and pays off his chauffeur to say nothing

There’s probably some cute scenes or clips of outings or something. They go thrift shopping to get Robb some actual stage clothes, they hang out with Ana’s moms, they don’t talk about Jax’s parents ever and don’t mention that Jax pretty much lives with Ana or the rotating cast of personnel through the house, there’s heart-to-hearts, there’s laughs, there’s drama, there’s friendship blossoming, walls breaking, truly incredible stuff

Then comes the inevitable. The day of the Big School Concert is also the day of the big Battle of The Bands or something. It’s some sort of contest where they play some songs and then they play one they were like assigned and they were assigned Space Oddity and one thing is that the judges are really looking for those strings but Di’s synths just aren’t cutting it; they’re timing and intonation just aren’t right. So Robb is like “Okay, you can’t ask any questions, and I’m going to be like on the wire BUT I will be there and I will bring strings. You have to trust me.” 

And then it’s Robb’s concert, and bananas things happen and he gets out of there with the bass and we’re switching back and forth between everyone being antsy and worrying and Robb booking it with this big ass piece of shit on his back and he’s in the back of the car fucking up his $300 suit. Maybe there’s a run-in with Eric? I kinda really want him to show up a little worse for ware for Jax to fuss over. 

And Jax and Ana and Di are like Bass??? Suit???? Hair half slicked back??? Are those LOAFERS??? Is that a BLACK EYE?? [one of the judges later asks the same thing and Robb just replies “We are a grunge band, ma’am]  But there’s no time to fuss! Because he rolls up literally like two minutes from going on stage!

They rush out and they play their song and it’s magical and fucking gay and Di’s going fucking ham on the piano and the whole room is vibing. Then they play a couple more songs or something idk I don’t want to like ruin this emotional high but I do need to justify the electric base being there for the next bit which issss

Di and Ana shove Robb and Jax into the dressing room and they FINALLY make out. And it’s amazing and heavy and full of emotional and physical catharsis and it’s just exactly what everyone -- robb, jax, the reader -- needs. 

And then there’s a knock on the door. Followed by “Robbert, darling, are you in there?” 

And Robb’s blood goes cold. Because of course Eric told his mother. Of course he forgot to turn his phone off. Of course, just as he finally has the things he wants, what he’s been craving for all his life, here comes his mother reminding him of what he is supposed to be. 

“What’s wrong?” Jax asks, “Who’s that?” But Robb can’t bear to say a word. It’ll all become obvious in a minute anyway. All he can do is hope that the sadness on his face shows, for once he wants his stupid face to show his goddamn emotion to the one person, and that Jax will know that’s how he really feels and won’t take this next part too personally. 

His parting words are to hand his electric bass to Jax and say, “Here, can you keep this safe for me? Valerios aren’t supposed to play these sorts of things.” 

And before Jax can say anything Robb turns away and makes his face a mask and replies, “Yes, Mother.” 

The door opens and there stands his mother, graying hair pulled into an elegant bun, still in the dress from the recital. Eric stands there too with his sharp suit, looking as if their tussle had never happened and like he didn’t need to wash blood off his rings. There were also a couple of men in suits, some of his mother’s assistants. One entered unceremoniously and silently took the bass from the room. 

“My dearest, whatever are you here for? I believe we agreed to a dinner at your favorite restaurant for your recital tonight,” it was Eric’s favorite, Robb hated the place, “This event was not on my itinerary.” 

“I apologize for the delay, Mother,” Robb said, as if he’d made them wait five minutes instead of running off across town and surely ruining their evening, “I owed a debt, and as you know that cannot be outstanding.” 

The barest hint of anger flashed over her face; she absolutely hated when he threw Valerio Family Names items back at her. He must have been hanging around with Ana too much, because he found himself relishing in having made her mad. The flash was gone almost before it was there, though, and her face was cool once more. 

“And what, pray tell, did you owe to these... people,” his mother said, eyeing Jax in a way that made Robb so angry he could feel the white hot rage in the center of his chest. But he was a Valerio, and he knew better than to show it like Ana was allowed to. 

“Did you not catch the show, Mother?” Robb asked, protectively stepping between her gaze and Jax and praying that it didn’t show his cards too thoroughly, “They required some strings accompaniment. I lent them some. Our transaction is done, I have no more business here.” 

He had so much more business here. He had results to hear. An after party to go to. Pizza to eat. Jokes to laugh at. A boy to kiss. 

But now all that business is done for. Who wants to hear results for a song played by a liar? Who wants to go to an after party or eat pizza or tell jokes with a Valerio? Who would want to kiss him after seeing who he really is: a spineless wimp who is doomed to live and die by his mother’s whims. This whole arrangement was doomed from the start, and he always knew it. He was just too happy to let himself know that. 

His mother was clearly displeased with him, but what was new? “So I see,” She said at last, “Well then, come along, no need to tarry in this... venue.” 

“Of course, Mother,” Robb said. A cool nothingness washed over him. He knew his lines. He knew his place. This was who he was. 

Robb left the room, not sparing Jax a single look over his shoulder. He told himself it was because his mother would certainly notice, and she would, but really he couldn’t bear to see whatever expression Jax was wearing -- betrayal, shock, anger? It would only break his heart further. 

As he left the room he now saw that Di and Ana were looking on in shock. Apparently they hadn’t stepped too far away. “Hey!” Ana yelled, “What’s going on?” 

“Did you not hear the entire conversation about what’s ‘going on’?” Erik asked, and Robb wanted to punch him again. Apparently Ana wanted to too, because Di instinctively reached to hold her back just as she began forward. 

“And who is this, Robbert?” his mother asked, as if they were at the zoo and she was asking which animal was in this enclosure. It was so hard for Robb to see Ana riled up without getting riled up too. 

“The leader of the band, Mother,” Robb said, carefully not naming her. She was nondescript, hard to track down by description alone. Hopefully more trouble than his mother thought worth it. He never wanted any of this night to come back to hurt the band. 

“Well, as you’ve heard, his debt is payed, so he is leaving. Say goodbye, Robbert.” 

“Goodbye,” Robb said, feeling like a dog, “Thank you for the experience.” That was as close as he could get to what he wanted to say. Thank you for being his friend, for being there for him, for letting him be dumb and clumsy, for a thousand things Ana has done for him. Her and Di and Jax. And all he can say is, “Thank you for the experience.” He makes him sick. 

And like that he turns with his mother and brother, because he is nothing but their dog. A spare for if something goes wrong. An extra to be married off for a good business deal once he’s ripe. That’s all he is and all he will ever be. 

He can hear Ana yelling after them, struggling against Di’s hold. He can picture Di’s face as he struggles between holding Ana back for her own good and letting her go because he knows she’ll at least land a hit. He tries not to picture Jax at all. 

But don’t worry because I hate sad endings but idk exactly what I want to happen but basically a few hours pass and then either Siege or Ana is like “So, when are we going?” and Jax is like “? Going where?” “To break your boyfriend out.” and idk, but it works out in the end. 

#heart of iron #hoi #soul of stars #sos #mywriting #fanfiction #rock band au #robb/jax #jax/robb #robbert valerio #jaxander taizu #robb #jax

[hisgirlwonder]

East to West - Part Two

Length: 2.6K words Warning: Sadness, angst, Michael being an asshole, etc Synopsis: Palos Verdes called your name from the moment Michael suggested the move there. Would it live up to your expectations or would it be the beginning of the end? You were soon to find out. Notes: To everyone asking for the second part - here you go! I’ve been so off course with writing after everything that has happened lately. Writing non-smut things is kind of difficult but I tried. I’m building up somewhat of a story before I get into the full on stuff. Enjoy ♥

The dining room is quiet and the only thing to break the stillness was cutlery hitting the porcelain as food is being devoured. Sandy commends you on how delicious it was to which you take a stab at Michael and mention how it was takeaway, side-eying him as you do so. Phil sips at his beer and admits they both enjoy a good burger more than they should. You shoot a very brief smirk at Michael before smiling sweetly at your new friends.

*

“Michael was a little apprehensive about it but I said no babe, I got this,” you tell them with hand gestures and all, ridiculing your husband in the kindest yet subtlest way possible. They both laugh but you know Michael is less than enthused and he clears his throat to derail you from mocking him any further. He invites Phil to join him in the workshop and Phil, of course, obliges. The pair leave the room and head towards the workshop to play with Michael’s new toys.

Then there were two.

**

“Such a beautiful view,” Sandy notes in an effort to perforate the silence. You’re on the balcony, leaning over the edge, and admiring the world before your eyes. You were in agreement with her and proudly claim the second seeing the house you knew it was the one.

“Phil told me you’re into art. You know, I think you should come to one of our art classes. It’s really great for meeting new people and it means we can spend a little more time together.”

“I think that would be a fantastic idea. I’ll get your number off Michael and we can organise something.”

“Oh, Y/N, you should meet Jim and Medina. I mean, Jim is busy a lot of the time but I really think it would be good for you. I understand how lonely it gets.”

You laugh to try and hide and distract yourself from what she just said. I understand how lonely it gets. Did she, did she really? Nobody else seemed as unhappy and mismatched in their marriage as you were. You paint a fake smile on your face and distract her with a joke about how it sounds as if you need an appointment to see them.

“Basically. But, onto more important things, tell me about you. I want to hear it from your own words and not a man’s perspective.”

“Well,” you begin, peering down at the band on your ring finger before continuing, “My mother would say I was a wild child. You know, the free-spirited, chameleon soul, lover of the arts and nature, type.”

“Wow. That’s beautiful. Can you promise me one thing? Promise me you’ll never lose that.”

“It’s just so hard being married to a person who seems to against everything that fills your heart with joy.”

Sandy wraps an arm around you and squeezes you in reassurance; almost like she knew what to do or say when you needed it most. Most people would spin some overused line and compare it to their own lives, but not Sandy. You already knew she was different.

“I’ve been trying to put my finger on it since I saw you and I’ve finally figured it out. You remind me so much of my Jim. If you need a buddy I’m sure he’d love to help you get acquainted with Palos.”

She pulls away and moves back to where she was, looking at you to take in everything you’re feeling. There’s another moment of silence but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Sandy rubs on your arm but doesn’t make a fuss because she doesn’t want you feeling embarrassed.

The tender moment is broken by Michael and Phil returning. Phil shoots Sandy the same look Michael gives you when he wants to leave a place without being rude. She picks up on it because she looks at her watch and says they better be going. A hand grabs of hers grabs one of yours in some kind of display of solidarity and looks at you in a way where you know exactly what she was saying. Her lips stayed shut, but her eyes said I’m here if you need me.

You try to show her your gratitude but Michael interrupts, saying he’ll take them out and tells you to go to bed because you seem tired. He wasn’t wrong – you were tired but it wasn’t for lack of sleep.

**

As the dishwasher is loaded with the last of the dishes, Michael tries to play nice by commenting that he knew you’d like them. This was him trying to uphold his dominance by enforcing he was right but you won’t give in and speak with enthusiasm about going to the class.

“See what I said? It’ll be good for you.”

Another comment about how he was right. Another comment to try and reiterate the fact that he was in charge and that you were still under his thumb. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of blowing up in his face right now, you throw a dishwashing tablet in the cutlery basket then close its door and turn on the machine.

“Sandy also suggested that I hang out with Jim because we’re so similar,” you admit, all the while trying to simmer yourself down.

“Really, Y/N? He’s nineteen.”

“I’m only twenty-five. What’s your point?”

You’re wanting to laugh and scream at yourself for thinking the rest of tonight would be even a little relaxing. Michael glares at you in disappointment. You bite the inside of your lower lip to stop yourself from clenching your jaw in anger.

“Can’t you grow up? I didn’t know I was going to marry someone who had no purpose.”

These few days had been full of all kinds of insults, both in actions and in words, and this one happened to struck deeply because Michael knew finding your purpose was what mattered to you. You didn’t want to give him the joy of seeing how bad so you leave the room before saying or doing something you would regret.

**

Let’s meet at my favourite spot on the beach in an hour. Let’s see if you can guess where it is. – J

The elation you felt from first reading that becomes intercepted with dread when you see it was sent almost an hour ago. You send him a quick reply and rush to jump out of bed; almost slipping over as your feet met the ground. After you’re dressed and look mildly presentable, you grab the acoustic guitar sitting near the bed and run down the stairs towards the front door, scoop your keys out of the bowl, and away you go.

The drive to the beach didn’t take too long thankfully and you weren’t that late. You figured you’d try your own favourite spot and, sure enough, there he was; standing near the benches by the food stands. You tap him on the shoulders with a finger and he turns around, greeting you with that same smile when the two of you met.

“Someone’s prepared,” you tease, pointing at the basket and rolled up blanket on the seat.

With the blanket under his arm and with his other free hand picks up the wicker basket, he jokes that some people need to be while others sleep in. You pretend to act shocked he’d say something like that to you but if you were in his position you’d joke the same.

“Before you ask, I don’t want any help. Go walk over to that tree and I’ll be over in a second with this stuff.”

**

“Fruit?” James asks, holding out a plate in front of you.

“You did all of this for me?”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not a man who likes a picnic by the beach,” he playfully teases.

The two of you laugh and begin conversing like old friends who had known each other for a while. Things were going great until he brought up the M word. You can’t help him for not knowing that marriage was a difficult subject for you but he was soon to find out.

You give your best attempt at trying to convince him it was great but he says you won’t be winning any Oscars.

“Look, I’m not here for you to sit and listen to me complain about something that isn’t anything to do with you. But, if you must know, I’m with someone who hates everything I love. Before you ask, we got married because we were young and I guess it felt like the right thing to do.”

The last of the fruit is quickly finished and you’re not looking at him but you can feel him looking at you. When you look up, you see those big eyes on you like you’re the only thing that mattered in that instant.

“Alright, your turn.”

“It’s nothing really. My parents, mostly my dad, want me to go to college, but all I want to do is surf and play music. I don’t care what I do as long as I have those two things.”

“You sound exactly like me. Maybe one day we’ll have everything we’ve dreamed of. Until then, we’ll have guitar lessons and hopefully meeting strangers who change our lives.” This was the queue for the two of you to play music instead of moping around over your lives.

**

James tells you to sit on the seat so he can pack everything up and you try to help but he refuses. His excuse for not letting you do anything is because you just gave him a guitar lesson. He comes over where you’re sitting with a fifty in his hand and shoves it in your shirt pocket as he’s walking over in the direction of the shops. He spins around on his heels when he’s a few paces ahead, walking backwards, pointing to you and shaking his finger, then spins back around. You run to catch up and realise just how natural things felt with him. Why did it not feel like this with Michael? Since arriving in Palos Verdes you forgot what two people enjoying their time together was like.

While you’re standing outside the café on the beach James asks you if you want some real food. You sling your guitar over your shoulder by the strap and admit that you guess it would be okay; you were being playful but your stomach was thankful.

“At least let me hold something,” you beg, looking at James trying to work out how he was going to open the door with one hand holding the basket and the other arm around the blanket. He gives in and hands you the blanket.

The moment after you sit down in a booth by the window the smell of food fills your nostrils and shows you just how hungry you are.

“My assumptions tell me you want a burger and fries, right? But you also want cheese on there. Maybe a van- no, chocolate shake? I know you haven’t read the menu but I have a gift for reading people.”

“You shouldn’t make assumptions…… but yes, you are correct.”

James rises to his feet and you try to give back the fifty dollars. He pushes your hand away and tells you that he wants to pay; his excuse was that he invited you here.

When you watch him paying at the counter you realise that you felt strangely at peace despite being in a place full of people; as if being with James calmed the rest of the world around you.

“This is perfect and exactly what I needed.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“You’re not going to let up until I do, are you?”

He smirks and shakes his head. It felt good albeit weird that someone was caring about you enough to allow you to unload onto them. You didn’t want to ruin the moment but you were bursting at the seams to get it out.

“He just... He just… He makes me feel like dirt. Like I’m nothing. I don’t understand where I’ve gone wrong. We used to be so happy but maybe I’m kidding myself.”

“Really?”

The waitress brings over a tray with your food and shakes on it. It appears that the two of you got exactly the same food, which was no surprised, and your stomach rejoiced as you took the first few mouthfuls of your burger.

“Really. The most recent issue is that he doesn’t want me hanging out with our friend’s kid because we’re a few years apart in age.”

You take a minute, sip down some of your drink, and continue.

“Oh, and that I needed to grow up. Apparently, I act as if I have no purpose because I want to play the guitar and like the beach.”

James reaches a hand out to comfort you and it feels so foreign. It’d been forever that Michael had actually touched you out of compassion or care. The last time he properly had a hand on you was when he tried to pull you back by your wrist and you didn’t dare entertain the thought that maybe, just maybe, one day he might hit you.

“Don’t let him make you feel bad. I know it’s easier said than done but he’s not worth your heart hurting.”

You try to force the emotions that are coming up back down and detract the conversation; focusing it elsewhere and pressing about what might be bothered him.

“Well…” he begins. Your eyes stay fixed and watch as James picks up a couple of fries out of the basket in between the two of you and dips it in his shake then eats them like it was no big deal. “There are a few things.”

It makes you laugh because you always thought you were the only one who did that. You follow suit but instead of dipping them into your drink, you dip it into his. You cheekily wink and he has this facial expression that says you’ll keep.

“Parentals are all about me getting a degree, and working in the business world. But that’s not me, you see? Like I said earlier I’d love to run the place I’m working at and give surfing lessons on the side.” He pauses briefly to click his fingers before resuming, “Or give drum lessons. Did I tell you I play them? Yeah, I’d love to teach that. I’ve been playing for almost ten years now.”

It was eerie how the situations were almost mirrored. Sure, he wasn’t dealing with a husband but he did have two very loving, very caring parents by the sound of it and sometimes that could be more stressful than a marriage where one person refuses to talk to the other.

“You know something, Y/N? This is all so surreal but it reminds me of something one of my friends taught me.”

“And what is that?”

He starts to speak a language that you recognised; how the universe brings humans into each other’s lives for a reason. You wondered why he came into yours but deep down already knew.

Taglist: @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sensitivethot @sammythankyou @taintedaffairs @langdonsdemon @sacredlangdon @queencocoakimmie @violett124 @1-800-bitchcraft @wroteclassicaly // Also adding in: @sodanova @itsyagirl01, @hannahdanyelle, @katerina-marie

#michael langdon fanfic #jim mason fanfic #ahs fanfic #american horror story fanfic #ttopv fanfic #the tribes of palos verdes fanfic #michael langdon x you #michael langdon x yn #michael langdon x reader #jim mason x you #jim mason x yn #jim mason x reader #michael langdon #jim mason #american horror story #ahs #the tribes of palos verdes #ttopv #fanfic #writing

[growingabushbaby]

In the Beginning

For some reason every time I think about the fact that I’m pregnant I recall Bridget Jones in the pharmacy in Austria, trying to order a pregnancy test in her very limited German and resorting to just shouting “MIT BEBE”, and miming a very round tummy (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GTCKAy3buxo). To be honest, I find myself wanting to do the same, on a fairly regular basis, when there is the slightest chance that someone might fail to notice (there’s no need to mime the tummy, at month 7). This is not because I’m showing off, or because I want extra attention. It’s because I feel the need to explain why I am rather cross a lot of the time, or prone to tears, particularly when you steal my parking space or shove past me in the milk aisle. Or why I am pounding Snickers bars at an alarming rate in my car so as to finish them before I get home to Callum’s disapproving look. Or why I just threw up in my mouth a little from the indigestion that never goes away, and had to frantically swallow so as not to get regurgitated Snickers on you.

Don’t get me wrong – I am so, so excited that I am pregnant. I still can’t believe that we got this lucky. But fucking hell, it’s not easy.

Before I go on, a quick and respectful acknowledgement to the many, MANY women who have it a lot harder than I do. I fall onto a spectrum of pregnancy experiences that cannot even be imagined, it’s so broad. I have been unlucky in some ways, but mostly extremely fortunate in others. The main reason for writing this is so that I have an outlet other than my poor long-suffering husband, and also to give out a few (hopefully useful) heads ups which I wasn’t given before I embarked on this journey.  

The Beginning…

Given my history of ovarian cysts and endometriosis, I didn’t think we would get pregnant easily. In fact, I pretty much used that as the bulk of my persuasive arsenal when talking to Callum about trying for a baby. When he agreed, heavily under the influence of Christmas whisky, neither he nor I imagined that it would happen within 3 months. I don’t think he’s quite forgiven me for that…bottom line is, though, it proves that despite the ways in which your body may have ‘failed’ you previously, there really is no hard and fast rule which governs your ability to conceive. I have met so many women with cysts and varying degrees of endometriosis: many of them already think they won’t be able to conceive – or worse, they have been told by their doctors before they’ve even turned 20 that they’d better try ASAP because it’s so unlikely to happen. Yes, these are serious reproductive conditions that may complicate matters in a number of ways. But please don’t give up on your incredible body and its capabilities just yet.   

I found out I was pregnant while I was in England, away from Callum. I hadn’t been feeling quite right, and one night I got excruciating cramp in my right calf and after hobbling to the loo I promptly passed out onto the bathroom floor. I was only a couple of days late, but I took the test and it presented me with a very faint line that Mum and I peered at for quite a long time before agreeing to wait a few days and try again. Once that second test confirmed it, all I had to do was wait a bit longer to tell Callum. Then the strange reality of it all began.

In the very early stages, you’re faced with the enormity of what has happened, but you keep it pretty quiet, which is very strange. We told close family, and friends we see on a regular basis (mostly because they would immediately notice I wasn’t drinking). This was ok for a week or two, as it was still only just sinking in for us and it felt quite special to have this little bundle of cells as our wonderful secret. Then, quite suddenly, the little bundle of cells decided things were far too peaceful. To be completely honest, thanks to the body’s amazing ability to block out horrendous symptoms once they’ve passed, I can’t remember when I first started to feel sick. All I knew was, I felt sick…all the time. 

“Morning sickness”? I’m calling utter bullshit on that. All-day-and-sometimes-night-sickness is more appropriate, with the occasional moment of blissful reprieve to remind you what normal feels like. I was not vomiting, but I had a terrible upset stomach, which would come on without warning. For a while I really couldn’t leave my bed, and would croak at Callum for plain pasta or toast with marmite if I could stomach it. I had to keep crackers by the side of the bed to shove down my throat when I woke up at 2am overcome by nausea. Callum said it was like sleeping next to a squirrel. I had to leave a birthday party after only 20 minutes because my stomach suddenly turned and I knew I couldn’t face being responsible for turning their one bathroom into a warzone. I once walked into the meat section at the supermarket and had to flee immediately.

The nausea wasn’t actually the thing that hit me hardest. I was prepared for all of that, because everyone had warned me about it. Ok, I didn’t really understand how awful it would be, but it wasn’t a surprise. What got me was the exhaustion, both physical and emotional. On the one hand, I’d zone out mid-conversation, find myself slipping away while sitting at the table, and pass out for hours in the middle of the day. I didn’t have the energy to see anyone, and couldn’t even bring myself to sit around the fire listening to others talking and laughing around me.

On the other hand, I was becoming more and more freaked out by what was happening to my body. I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognise myself. I didn’t fit into any of my clothes, but had no discernible baby bump yet, so just felt fat and wobbly. Having been fairly flat chested my whole life, my boobs were now growing by the day and it was so excruciating that I had to sleep in a sports bra, and would wake up in agony whenever I rolled over. I didn’t know this body; I didn’t know this person. It completely terrified me. I would cry in the bath, not understanding what was happening and then feel immensely guilty for not being overjoyed by the miracle that was growing inside me. Witnessing me curled in the foetal position, crippled by nausea and blinding headaches, miserable for no apparent reason, Callum would keep saying “it’s all going to be worth it,” and I would reply bleakly, “is it?” in utter desperation. He worried about my diet – I was just eating pasta, bread and crackers with the occasional handful of sweets thrown in every now and then – but I couldn’t face eating anything remotely healthy, and I certainly didn’t feel like cooking.

I HATED being so exhausted and sad. I’d wanted this for so long, had imagined how it would be. It was so far from the blissful picture of glowing skin and radiant happiness that if I hadn’t been feeling so dreadful I would have laughed about my naivety. It took quite a few reminders from kind friends/husband/lady in the queue at Pick and Pay of the following point to shake me out of my self-loathing:

I WAS GROWING A HUMAN BEING.

Despite the fact that it’s all you can think about, it’s very easy to forget this point. I read somewhere that a pregnant woman uses up the same amount of energy just lying down as a fully grown, healthy man would during an intense gym workout. That put things into perspective a bit. I started to pay more attention to my symptoms – when I felt suddenly like I might pass out, I thought “ok, maybe I’m growing a bit of brain right now.” Or when I nearly threw up after a sip of orange juice, I thought “well maybe the baby just doubled in size.” Although I still felt like shit, I also started to feel a teeny tiny bit powerful. It was still terrifying when I caught sight of my ballooning body in the mirror, and it still hurt like hell whenever someone hugged me too tight. But my body was doing this insane new thing, and that was pretty fucking cool.

[gyuten]

heavens will burn

— Genre: angst, fluff ; bodyguard!au

— Pairing: bodyguard!jungkook/celebrity!reader

— Words: 11.3 k

— Synopsis: The truth is that love is only easy for the very lucky few. Jeon Jungkook is in love with someone, and she him. Their love should have come easy, if only life hadn’t given him the biggest misfortune of all: a curse to never be able to touch others without harming them. To Jungkook, his love becomes nothing but sweet pain.

— A/N: if any of you recognize the plot of this fic, then congrats, you’ve figured out who I am :)

“I thought I told you to stay in the car.”

Her black cap does little to shadow her features, a refined glamour too familiar to the eyes of the public—be it from pages strewn on magazine stands, the statics of TV or gigantic billboards scattered across glinting skyscrapers. Her latest designer sunglasses isn’t subtle, neither are the diamonds circling her wrist, it glitters in the light of the coffee shop brighter than the cheap christmas ornaments strung on the corner. Jungkook sometimes wonders if he has the patience to continue this job—a job that entails protection, not babysitting. These stubborn moments of hers often makes him wonder why he agreed to be her bodyguard in the first place. Oh yes, it is purely due to the fact that he is in love with her that he is willing to withstand her every action—not that he’ll ever admit it, gosh no.

“But you’re warm.” She draws out her words in a whine.

Her fingers are drawing circles on his back, a motion that should make him shrink away, for its gentle and nonchalance is not something he is entitled to receive. He does not draw away, selfishly, he doesn’t want to. Over a year it has been since he attempted to draw boundaries between them: his defenses laid set, the perimeters to his shriveled heart strong as it always was, and the layers encasing him towed securely wherever he goes. She is either blind to all the warning signs he’s set up, or is the very naive feline in the phrase: curiosity killed the cat. Somehow, she wedges past the barbed wires surrounding him to settle in the most desolate part of him: his heart. Calling her stubborn would be an understatement. Nevertheless, she succeeded, her presence now a permanent figure that if taken away will undoubtedly leave an ugly tear of her shape. He hopes she doesn’t, for it’s too late for him to stop from falling for her.

“The car has a heater for a reason.” He quips, folding his arms over his chest in a useless act of defense.

Her lips form into an annoyed pout at the indifference he wears. Though she knows it will crumble down in no time, she doesn’t quite understand why Jungkook is always adamant on playing this game of cat and mouse with her. Why resist the inevitable? The answer, mostly, is because [Name] is still clueless to his special circumstance. Special being a too nice way to describe the curse he bears. The painful reality is that Jeon Jungkook is cursed with never being able to touch another person without decreasing their life span. The handmade rock tombstone of the deceased pets lining his home’s garden is proof of it. It’s not a surprise that the once soft spoken and warm hearted boy winds up as a stranger to his former self, lifeless and close to undead if anything else.

“You’re so mean...and I’m okay with that.” She giggles like there’s a joke he’s missing.

Jungkook feels his right eye twitch at how soft and accepting she is of him, another reason as to why he has grown fond of her—with fond being an understatement. No matter what he does to push her away, how cold or sharp his words struck her, she always comes back, too eagerly, too enthusiastic, too unguarded and trusting of him. He hoped her feelings for him will be nothing more than just a phase, for both their sake. But deep down he doesn’t want her to stop, doesn’t want the shower of affection he’s been deprived of to be taken away just like that. There’s a sense of confusion weighing him ever since he met her, he drifts in a limbo of uncertainty, between the lines of falling in love and refusing to.

“Hey, you’re not getting mad at me for invading your personal space anymore. I’d say, there seems to be progress in my attempts to woo you, am I right?” Her face pops into his peripheral vision from over his shoulder, treading on being too confident.

But she is right. Though he’ll never admit it. Jungkook shrugs her off when she digs her chin on his shoulder blades. There is an indentation she leaves whenever he lets her touch him, going deeper than breaking the surface of his skin it makes him crave for more, but he cannot allow himself to. It’s why he does his best to distance himself. A touch from him can be lethal. Nevermind a graze, a stroke, an embrace. That is the thought that keeps him awake at night, at least once, before he met her. But now, his sleepless nights are spent wondering if he will ever feel her touch, no one else’s, and if he will be forever content with being able to feel just her skin. Whenever his mind drifts to that particular direction, Jungkook’s rational side slaps a painful reminder. No, he cannot allow himself to crave the touch of others, or her, especially not her, especially now, now that he finds himself inevitably drawn to the overly affectionate woman whose laughter can warm his freezing nights.

“Hey, Jungkook. You’re spacing out again—”

The hand waving over his face comes too close and too suddenly, Jungkook instinctively jerks away to escape it from touching the tip of his red nose. His foot crunch on her leather boots by mistake, but she doesn’t whine or speak about it. Instead, she looks at her hand, perplexed that then turns to guilt.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” She apologizes, averting her eyes to her shoes.

He hates that she can sound so beaten up and rejected over him. If only she can understand why he does things like this.

“No, no, you just startled me.” He tries to sound nonchalant, not at all freaked out like the way he reacted.

But the way she keeps pouting and now move away from him tells him he isn’t convincing. Jungkook sighs.

“[Name], come on, you know it’s not you. I just have issues with personal space.”

Jungkook hates pleading, but he finds himself doing it without being asked to if it concerns her. The corner of her lips lifts into a smile, a complete 360 from how sad she was just seconds ago—she was just acting, of course, that’s what she does for a living.

“Why though?” She asks, head tilting to let her hair fall over her shoulder like a soft curtain.

Jungkook turns back to the person in front of him in the queue and pretends as if he doesn’t hear her question. He turns a blind eye to her even as she bumps him from behind and whines his name exaggeratedly to get his attention. All that he cares for is that she’s not really mad at him, it’s just another round of trying to find the reason why he’s the way he is. One would think she’d have given up asking after so long. Well, that one would’ve been wrong. [Name] is nothing but persistent.

“It’s none of your business, [Name]. Now please stop, you’re going to cause a scene. And that would be a hassle for both of us.” Jungkook’s curt words cease her action, which honestly surprises him, though he doesn’t complain at her rare compliance.

“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked.”

The shamelessness in the way she says it makes him turn back around to face her, wide eyed and pink cheeked. She raises her eyebrows when their eyes meet, the smug expression she wears challenging him to respond. Jungkook has no time for her silly games, however. They’ve already spent too much time in this coffee shop, and certainly they’re going to be late to their destination. Jungkook flicks her off with a gloved hand over her mouth and shoves her head back—gently, of course. He returns to face the front of the queue with a roll of his eyes, hearing her complain at him for the awful taste of his glove that she had accidentally tasted.

“Oi, that is no way to treat A-list celebrity [Name]!” She rebukes, brows furrowing into a threatening expression Jungkook isn’t impressed by.

“What? [Name]?”

“She’s here?”

“Oh my gosh there she is!”

“[Name]! I’m such a huge fan, please take a picture with me!”

Jungkook releases a long, long sigh and slams his head on his palms.

“Oops?”

“You have really big eyes and it freaks me out sometimes.”

“You have a really big mouth and it makes me want to shove my shoe in it, sometimes.” Jungkook throws out without as much as a blink.

She giggles, always entertained and amused at his hostility, knowing it’s nothing more than a ruse he has to keep up around her. Currently, his eyes are not on her, but on the magazine pages with her picture stamped on the cover. She smiles softly at how immersed on her spread he seems. No matter how much he denies it—how he’s just there to protect her, not watch her movies, buy magazines featuring her, or stalk her on social media—she knows that he does what he can to support her.

“If you do that, I might fire you.” She threatens, though it lacks any real meaning.

“You like me too much to fire me.” Jungkook confidently replies, a smug smirk tilting his lips.

She bites back her tongue, unable to deny it. They both know it's true, though neither has said it out loud before. Jungkook has a way of making her think often of their relationship despite acting like he could care less about it. To her, what they have could be considered more than just a normal bodyguard-celebrity relationship. To him, she isn’t sure.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

As he raises an eyebrow in response, [Name] finds herself enthralled in the effortless way that his features move, like a moth drawn to a flame, the words at the tip of her tongue dies as her mind starts to wander. He is comparable to the many actors she’s had the pleasure of working with: a set of stone cold gaze under undeniably gorgeous eyes, a smile that—while rare—is captivating in a soft and shy kind of brilliance, features sculpted into a vision of art, and a voice that entails all the good dreams she’s ever had. She’s being dramatic, yes, but it’s not as if none of it are true.

“You’re staring.” He points out.

Though so, his eyes have not left his magazine. But the way his adam’s apple bob and his fingers fidget as he pinches the corner of the page makes her wonder if he’s really been reading or just looking for a reason not to look at her.

“So? I’m not invading your space, though.” She reasons with a smile that’s so amused at how suddenly awkward he seems, reading in the corner of the room, pinned by her stare.

Jungkook’s shoulders are drawn back and stiff, his fingers crumple the pages before finally he lands his half-hearted glare on her.

“It’s still rude to stare.”

She edges herself closer to the end of the couch and twists her body to him. There’s a sudden low rumbling that cuts their gazes. Jungkook’s face immediately morphs to that of a disappointed frown, and [Name] replies to it with a half-hearted fake confusion.

“Did you skip out on breakfast again?” He raises a scrutinizing eyebrow.

[Name] thins her lips to stop herself from answering. Her next movements are swift, and Jungkook cannot avoid it as a rolled ball of her used sock comes hurtling at his chest. He only has time to react by pulling out his arms in front of him by the time the sock ball has landed on his lap. The expression he pulls out afterwards is one of disbelief as he glares at her.

“Did you just throw a sock ball at me?!” How juvenile, he thinks, and yet, it’s so her.

Before Jungkook can drag her to the nearest buffet table and chew her out for avoiding his question, [Name] has got running head start away from him with a giggle hanging by her lips.

“Hey!”

Jungkook clambers off the couch and chases her out of her dressing room, an expression of furrowed eyebrows and jutted bottom lip as he runs.  

“Come back here so I can feed you!” He yells, not minding the stares he receives as he whizz by.

The laughter she carries as she runs past him is what slows Jungkook’s pace down in the chase after her. Despite how often frustrated he feels due to her lack of concern for her well being, Jungkook can’t recall the last time he hears her laugh with such unguarded carefreeness. The very fact burdens his mind with melancholy. He understands that the life of a celebrity isn’t as glamorous as the media and television makes it seem, but before this job, he could never guess that the celebrity life is also this emotionally draining on someone. Perhaps that’s why she acts so childishly towards him. Maybe, just maybe, he’s the only thing keeping her together the way she is keeping him sane.

“Hey, Jungkook, you’re spacing out again,” She has stopped running and now stands before him on the other side of the room, hand on her hips and a pout on her lips, “You’re so not fun.” She playfully taunts, disappointed at the sudden halt in their chase.

Jungkook composes himself from his wandering thoughts, and with a clear of his throat beckons her closer. Recognizing the silent reprimanding in his eyes, [Name] trudges over in defeat, rebuking with a sulk she hopes is enough to force Jungkook into guilt. It isn’t. She stops when the tips of their shoes meet, their distance close enough for her to feel the tickle of his breath against her skin—the only touch he allows her to feel—this a deliberate action done to taut his nerves. For a reason unknown, Jungkook doesn’t push her away like he always does when she stands too close, this time he lets her.

His stone cold guise bares itself into the truth of his flawed and worn down complexion: the blotch of redness scattered across his cheek, the bruise like ringlets surrounding his eyes, the spider web like crack across his lips. There is a vulnerability in him she’s never been aware of at this close of a distance, bathing him in a light more humane than he ever was. Unlike the immaculate Jungkook who strives for perfection, the one before her is just a man struggling under the weight of life. Perfection is not the reason Jungkook appeals to her, it is the cracks and dents he harbors that draws her curious and thirsty for a sip of what he truly is.

The noise of their bustling shooting set is swallowed by the stone walls of the waiting room they stand on. Once they fall silent, so does the entire room. The way they are separated from the rest of the world gives off an intimacy to their silent stare off. Jungkook always avoids moments like this, fearful for what might happen if he is to be left alone with her. Despite all his attempts, here he is, stiff and pliant for her. Her gaze always hold an unadulterated compassion for him, soft and heart warming like the crackle of a fireplace. Yet when she is this close to him, there lies a severity bordering on dangerous, a heat threatening to burn that nearly leaves him breathless.

Jungkook swallows down the trembling of his limbs—his body’s immediate reaction whenever it senses her near. He wonders how he is still able to stand, to circulate air and still manage to function properly when she is so close, he can almost feel the warmth radiating off her skin. As much as the racing of his heart and rush of blood in his veins drives him to make this moment eternal, he knows he is not allowed to feel. Not her. Fear curls around him with a vice grip, whispering paranoias and nightmares that will sure to come if he surrenders to his desire of taking that one step closer and sealing their distance.

Do you really think she’ll let you be around her again when she finds out?

She doesn’t need you, you are but a stardust in her galaxy.

You ruin everything you touch.

You weren’t raised to love tender, you weren’t raised to love someone like her.

She is too kind, and you are too violent.

If you hurt her, it might kill you.

Bone-chilling coldness slices through his skin like a waterfall of ice, the pain slithers up his spine and shatters the hope harboring in his heart. He jolts away from her, all too aware of what he had done, and how wrong it was. [Name] frowns as he recoils, the pain scrunched in his expression wrenched her heart. It’s a dull ache she’s used to, for Jungkook always pulls away every time she holds her hand out to him, every time the are too close for his liking. A heavy sigh wrack his chest, hiding the choked way it rises and falls.

“Eat, [Name].” The words he said is not what he is truly pleading for.

Jungkook clears his throat, and he becomes stone cold again with the distance he forces upon them. He must’ve felt guilty, for he forces on a small smile, an assurance that does nothing to tame her disappointment. It’s infuriating how easily he can turn his head away as if nothing has happened. She knows for certain that he feels the way she does, if not love, then something toeing around its lines, an almost perhaps. She sees it in the way he hovers and lingers around her with a desperation he thought she can’t see. So, why does he keep resisting?

“You know, you can’t keep doing this shitty thing and then feel bad about it as if that makes it okay! You need to be better!” The anger bubbles up in her throat and spills over.

A sense of astonishment carves itself into his features with the hostility she has resorted to yelling at him with. He doesn’t blame her. She deserves to feel angry, to detest him, as all his actions are done unfairly without her knowledge of why. Maybe, he can drive her crazy enough through this and finally eradicate the love she has for him, make her hatred burn for him.

If you hurt her, you might kill yourself.

He curses life for landing him in such a complicated predicament. It seems, no matter what he does, he will hurt her either way.

“I’m sorry.” He says. The softened edges of his eyes pleads for her to believe that he truly is.

She hates herself for forgiving him all too easily. Whatever it is that Jungkook does, she knows it is only ever in her best interest. He would let himself bleed over before she can even spare a single drop of hers. It’s a raw protectiveness that goes far beyond that of someone paid to protect her. Another reason why she had been suspicious of him possibly reciprocating her feelings in the first place.

“If you care for me, you won’t further pry,” His hands sneaks itself into his pant pocket, it returns with a single chocolate bar which he graciously hand over to her, “If you care for me, you’d mind your own health better and eat.” She opens up her palm and accepts despite the bitterness rising up her throat.

“And do you, care for me?” She had to ask.

His face goes blank, a neutral slate that gives nothing of the thoughts lurking in his mind. Still, she waits for an answer, clutching at the chocolate bar tightly she can hear a small crack as it breaks. He licks his dry lips and pries it open, but a voice not of his pierces the silence in a demand for her to be back on set. How freaking convenient, she thinks. She clucked her tongue, annoyed at the interruption, but wills herself to turn away from him. Her heels clicks sharply as it hits the floor, she spares Jungkook a glance that carries her confusion for him, then leaves him to his own suffocating emotions as she leaves.

“Trust me, I wish I could stop.”

Lights flash like twinkling stars under her eyelids. Whenever she opens them the shine becomes unbearably blinding, forcing herself to hide from it. This cycle repeats endlessly, of a garish light then a warm glow, the sharp transition makes her brain muddled and fuzzy. It’s only one of the many uncomfortable situations a celebrity has to endure. She can’t complain much, this life has littered her in plentiful riches that many would die for.

The train of her jewel encrusted dress weighs down every step she makes, slowing her from reaching her car just yet. Under the well rehearsed smile, she scoots herself closer to the edge of the crimson carpet laid underneath her heels, the only joy she feels comes only from the relief of finally having this premiere night done and over with. And maybe, it also has something to do with being in a confined space with Jungkook. She lets her eyes flit over beyond the shadowed figures of the camera men and fans lining up behind the barrier, it’s not an action she can understand of why, but when she spots him pushing his way through the crowd she realizes just how much she has yearned for him throughout this tiring night. Her smile falls more naturally now.

The breeze changes swiftly from a bustling gust to a gentler drift when she enters her car, the noise of the crowd becomes drowned and distorted when the car door finally closes in on her. Relief and exhaustion seeps into her bones in heavy torrents, the perfect posture and smile she has been wearing along with the heavy dress slumps into the leather seat in a manner not quite lady like. Her eyelids are heavy, threatening to shut, but she doesn’t allow it, she has to wait for Jungkook.

His heavy breaths comes before he does and her body tenses like a live wire when she senses him. Jungkook’s weight falls on to the leather seat recklessly, and he slams the door shut without a second to waste. With both car doors shut, the vehicle startles forward past the sea of crowds, their muffled screaming and eager faces a blur to her barely opened eyes. His heavy breaths are louder in the confinements of the quiet car, louder than the hum of the engines that it’s beginning to get hard for her not to notice. She averts her eyes to him out of worry, watching the sweat dribble down his pale face and the hairs sticking to his forehead. Only Jungkook can wear exhaustion as well as a fine tailored suit.

The black gloves he wears is always taken off whenever a red carpet event ends. It’s his way of shedding away the exhaustion of the day, of letting himself breathe and settle. Most times, [Name] attempts to reach out and touch him, just a brush of skin, she wants so badly to understand why he never lets anyone but himself touch the expanse of his skin. Is it because he’s insecure over how rough and dry they are? It doesn’t seem like it, if anything, it’s currently glistening with a sheen of sweat from the heat the gloves gave. She doesn’t try anymore, respecting him and his space, even though she doesn’t understand of why.

“Your fans are savages.” His voice breaks through the night with a small dry laugh.

“It’s not my fault I’m gorgeous.” She shrugs, only half paying attention to his words.

He makes no attempt to deny, only sharing her a small smile. A small sense of pride wells in her chest. Jungkook thinks she’s pretty.

“You should shower once you get back, you stink of sweat.” He doesn’t, but she likes to witness him as he turns pink cheeked and shy.

Subtly, he ducks his head and sniffs himself to confirm her words. His nose scrunches as he does so, in an awfully adorable way she’s not sure he is even aware of, moreover the effect it does to her heart.

“Or you can just, you know, take off your coat.” She suggests.

Jungkook pauses, his narrowed eyes darting consciously at her underlying motive. For an actress, [Name]’s not putting much of a convincing grin for him. He doesn’t seem annoyed, having gotten used to her meddling into his business. The last time he’s shown an inkling of annoyance was when he had chased after her before they nearly kissed a few weeks ago. It’s odd, how easily they return to the flow of their relationship despite all the tension and anger that has surfaced before. It is only because it has become increasingly harder for Jungkook to ignore her, any kind of anger or resentment he has for himself that should have drawn him away from her always fades. Whether they will to or not they always keep coming back to one another, like birds migrating in a pattern that always leads them home.

“Nice try, [Name].” She pouts. Well, there’s never any harm in trying.

The night falls silent with the halt of their light conversation, both figures going idle on their respective side of the car. Shards of the moonlight and city lights scatters through the car’s window, illuminating [Name]’s features with a soft brilliance unlike the harsh glare of flashing cameras she was bathed in. Even with the distance between them Jungkook is always aware of her, of the even rise and fall of her breath and the crimson of her lips cracking ever so slightly as the night goes on. An internal radar exists in his system, whatever it is he is doing, somehow, someway, he always turns to her whenever she enters a room, as if he hasn’t had enough of watching her.

“You hungry?” He asks.

She turns away from the window and acknowledge him with a raised eyebrow. He always has time to worry for her, sometimes it annoys her, currently it is endearing.

“Are you kidding? Can’t get through more than a bite with this stupid corset on.” She groans, poking at her waist.

“Great. Namjoon, make a stop at the nearest convenience store.” He instructs to the driver.

“You brought my spare change, right?” Though he provides no verbal answer, she knows Jungkook is always prepared when it comes to her, despite it not being entirely in his job description.

Fortunately, the convenience store they found themselves in is empty, the only sign of it still opening being the fluorescent glow coming from within. It’s an odd sight, a sleek black limo parked in a run down store. More so when a famed celebrity is sitting on its curb, stripped from all her gold and glitter and into something more understated and plain. A warm cup noodle is within her hold, providing warmth in the cold breeze of 1 AM. Jungkook sits next to her, watching her silently feed herself with the elegance of a reckless child from the corner of his eyes. He smiles, relishing in the authenticity she is comfortable enough to show around him.

“You know, your face should be up on the silver screen.” She says out of the blue.

Jungkook shrugs, barely paying attention to her words and more so to the sparkling ruby red layering it, and how delectable it looks as it move. He realizes his heart is always at its most vulnerable when the sun has dipped beneath the horizon, it turns tender just as his exhaustion leaves him without the strength to uphold his defenses. Like this moment, where the urge to move closer and hold her becomes unbearable, Jungkook can feel his fingers twitch involuntarily.

“I’m not interested in any of that stuff.”

“Why not? You’ll make a better living than being a bodyguard anyways.”

An unspoken answer suffocates the air around them, bringing about a tense silence neither expects to fall into so quickly. Though he has never said it, they know that the main reason Jungkook sticks to this job is because of her, because he has found himself attached to her and is unwilling to let go. A clear of his throat interrupts the silence, and Jungkook takes a swig of his water to relieve himself.

“I just don’t think that type of lifestyle suits me. I mean, I’m tough on the outside, but to become a celebrity means I need to toughen up my inside, which is—”

“Really soft and fragile, I know.” She giggles like its not a secret to the world.

Jungkook smiles along with her. Somehow, he doesn’t mind that she knows of his true self, of the fragile boy longing to be cared for.

“Besides, I’m a very private guy myself. I wouldn’t like to have people intruding in my life all the time.” Jungkook bumps her shoulder with his water bottle at that last remark, teasing her with a smile that shows off his teeth.

“Right, you have a very strong need for personal space,” The sentence draws out into a wistful silence, one which makes Jungkook nervous when her smile fades, “Why is that?” She asks, turning her eyes to him with a long harbored sadness.

He frowns. Whether he likes it or not, their conversation always leads to this topic, as it is the foundation that builds their questionable relationship. He hates that her constant frowns and worries all stem from him: his inability to tell her the truth and his selfish need for her to stay in his life. In the silence that drags on, Jungkook can only stare at his hands, the only piece of skin that is currently visible to the eyes other than his face. In the years since he has discovered his curse, a burning hatred for the skin he wears exist in the deepest part of his soul, rendering him unable to look or touch his own skin for too long. Looking at the milky plane that shapes his fingers and the blue veins snaking underneath it brings about a sense of nausea that makes him want to vomit his dinner. He can’t understand why she’s so fixated on wanting to touch something so vile, so dangerous. If only the curse could have the same effect to him as it does to everyone else. Maybe then he could lessen her suffering.

“How bad can it be, really, Jungkook?” She wounds herself closer to him as she pries.

Jungkook shuts his eyes, as if willing his brain to remain unaware of how close she is to him. It’s the only thing keeping him from giving in to his desire and from hurting her. How cruel of life, to not rid of him of the heart that he wished should have died along when the curse happened. The intensity that comes with his love feasts at the wall he’s worked so hard to build, brick by brick it is torn apart, and brick by brick Jungkook tries to rebuild the damage that won’t stop, for her sake.

“It’s pretty bad, trust me.” He tries to lighten the tension by offering up a dry laugh.

“I have feelings for you.” She confesses.

Unexpectedly, it is said with a raw passion and unabashed truthfulness that tugs at his heart strings painfully. He swallows down his own confession and chokes out words he knows is not sufficient enough to respond to her, but has to be said to draw the line of boundaries she must not over step.

“I know.”

“And you have feelings for me too.” She says.

There is no denial, as much as he should deny it. He digs his nails into his own palms, leaving crescent moons that threatens to tear into his skin. He has half the mind to stop himself from drawing any blood for the sake of not worrying her. It hurts to not be able to look at her when he craves nothing but to see the softness of her features, it hurts to not be able to say the words for himself when he desperately wants to. This confession feels painful, though it should liberate his heart.

“Please, don’t do this.” He begs, a whisper so fragile and broken [Name] cannot recognize it as his voice.

She draws herself back, choking at the painful weight pressing down on her chest. It is always like this with him. After so many months, the sting continues to bite harder and harder every time it happens, leaving behind a suffering she can no longer bear. I’m sorry. Please. It’s always what comes out of him when she asks. She can’t understand, he leaves no room for her to. How long does he plan to drag this on? To leave her in the dark? She’s had enough of his avoidance, of the hurt he gives her. How dare he dig his way into her heart and irresponsibly abandon it whenever he wants to?

“No, I’m doing this.”

The ferocity that licks at her words pries his eyes open. She brings herself to her feet and sends a ferocious glare down at him, her shadows spill over his hunched figure with a sense that tows in a feeling inferiority within his heart.

“Are you trying to hurt me on purpose? Is that it? You could at least have the decency to distance yourself from me if I’m bothering you, but no, you just have to toy around with my feelings and continue to play this game of push and pull. Well, I’ve had it.”

He knows he must have struck a sensitive nerve within her to have her raise her voice at him like this. [Name] doesn’t raise her voice to anyone, especially not him. Guilt crawls its way up his throat, and he swallows, not knowing what else to do other than look down at his shoes and let her berate him. She deserves this much.

“You won’t understand.” Softly, he says.

“You don’t know that! You never gave me a chance or an explanation!” She argues hotly.

This predicament makes him fidget in his spot, anxious for what words may accidentally slip out of him in the midst of his rising emotions and the repercussions it may bring. Jungkook takes a breath and calms himself before facing her.

“This is not going to go the way you think, [Name].”

“With you? Nothing ever is.”

Jungkook is startled into silence, noting of the spite lacing her words. He just isn’t used to her being so straightforward with him in such a resentful manner. Though he knows he deserves it, the thought of her hating him on its own is enough to make him stand out of agitation.

“[Name]—“

“What? You’re sorry?” She draws her eyebrows down, perusing the array of conflicting emotions on his expression.

A dying ember is starting to spark back to life when he meets her eyes, confused and angry and hurt. Anger swells up in him, not for her, but for himself and what he’s too weak to do, what he has done.

“But I really am—“

“Well, your apologies means crap to me now. Not when you keep repeating this over and over.”

“Look, have I ever lied to you before? If I could tell you without getting you to hate me I would!”

“You don’t know for certain that I’d hate you! You kept assuming that I will as if anything could make me care you any less. What is it, did you kill a man or something? I won’t tell the police if—“

“No, no, please, just—“ The overwhelming thoughts running through his mind wound his head up like a tight knot, bringing about a tense pain at the back of his head that makes him wince, “I can’t lose you.”

“But you’re okay with lying to me forever?”

The defeat underlying her question makes him pause, the words at the tip of his tongue immediately ceasing. There has never been a time where [Name] doesn’t look beautiful to him, whatever state or expression she wears, Jungkook is always enthralled with her every feature. Now, witnessing the despair worrying the lines of her face feels painful, a feeling he never thought could occur when it’s her. The racing of his heart slows into a sluggish pace, worn down and weighted by the helplessness he feels.

“[Name]—” He calls for her, but can’t understand why, the name falls from his lips almost naturally as if it’s the only word he knows how to say.

Perhaps he is just desperate for her to understand, to accept that he’ll never be able to explain to her of the things she deserves to know though he knows it is unfair. Fear is a familiar taste for Jungkook, a manifestation of the curse he bears. But he finds there’s something else he fears more than what the curse can do, and that is losing her. His breathing stutters, as he feels himself losing his grip on her.

“Please, I—“ He hesitates in taking a step closer, because no matter how much he wants to tell her, he knows he’ll lose her once he does.

Desperation claws at his throat, and he tries to say something, anything to get her to stay with him. Though she is near, Jungkook feels as if she’s drifting farther and farther away when her eyes starts glistening with unshed tears, the warm gaze that he has come to love now looks at him as if he’s a stranger.

“That’s what you always say.” She sighs, not trying to hide her disappointment.

His body trembles like a fallen autumn leaf when she turns her back on him and starts walking away. No, no, no. There is no excuse for what he does next, once panic clings on to him his body goes into overdrive, and out of pure instinct he grabs on to her hand with a desperation evident in his strong grip. The panic and fear pumping in his veins clouds his mind, but all he knows is that he has to get her to stay, he needs her to. He’s never been more desperate for anything more in his life, if he has her, he knows that he will be content for life.

The cold of his touch sends a shock wave up her arm and down to her spine. At the sensation, [Name] whirls her head to him with a speed even she’s surprised of. She’s convinced that it is only her imagination, the pressure on her hand and the fingers curling over her skin, until she sees their hands connect. Somehow, [Name] can’t shake off the fact of how odd their hands look together, almost unnatural due to it never happening before.

It’s not as wonderful as she dreamed it would be, his touch is cold and palms calloused. Yet it’s exhilarating, getting to feel the rush of blood in his veins, the constant thrumming of his pulse and the shake of his every bones. For the first time, [Name] can feel the fibers making up his body and the essence that molds his soul. Jungkook feels, most of all, real.

The shock wears off once she hears how shaky her breathing has gone, the thundering of her heart becomes a deafening bass that rattles her eardrums hard enough for her to finally pay attention to. When she lands her eyes on him, she sees Jungkook’s face contorted in pain, as if her turning away from him had caused a physical kind of pain. [Name] has always known of his feelings for her. But she has never known it to go as deep as it did, to burn with such a raw passion that it could wound him greatly. There is relief and fear in her, of both their dangerously strong feelings for each other.

“Jungkook?”

The sound of his name snaps him awake out of the cloud of fear. His eyes go to hers before anything else, no longer angry or disappointed, its tenderness has returned, though tinged with an uncertainty he isn’t sure of what it means. Then his eyes lands on his hand, holding on to hers with an iron grip even he cannot recognize as his. The situation sinks in to him with a heavy dread, and Jungkook withdraws himself away from her as far as he can. The hand that had held hers tremble as he clutches it, out of rage for what he’s done but at the same time, a delight exist from finally getting a taste of her. He doesn’t allow the joy to happen for long, instead allowing fear and dread to envelope him.

I’ve touched her.

She’s going to die because of me.

I’ve hurt her, in a way that she can’t imagine.

“Jungkook? Jungkook, talk to me.” [Name]’s anger is now replaced with concern as she draws nearer to him.

Jungkook thrusts his hand up, but it withers back to his side in fear of touching her again. His vision blurs into splotches of broken street lights and her distorted face, he doesn’t even realize that he’s crying until a wet trail cascades down his cheeks. He’s far too afraid, far too angry at himself to focus on responding her. The only thing his mind is screaming at him is: you hurt her, you hurt her, you hurt her.

“Jungkook, hey, are you alright?” She asks, her hands hovering carefully over his deflating figure.

Jungkook staggers, feet turning into jelly under the weight of his anger. He hasn’t even notice of the powerful grip he has on his own hand, this time, he successfully draws blood from under his skin at the force he’s putting on it.

“You don’t understand, [Name]. I’m cursed! I can never touch anyone without drawing them further to their deaths. That’s why I don’t let anyone in, why I wore all those unnecessary garments, why I can’t have anyone touching me. Don’t you see? I really want to be with you, I do. But I can’t. I will hurt you, I know I will, and I can’t do that to you.” A rawness tearing from deep within him speaks out, manifesting the broken man for he truly is, crying and pleading before her.

At that moment, watching Jungkook rip himself apart fills her with the same pain she saw Jungkook with when she was leaving him. [Name] thought that she would finally be liberated from the burden on her shoulders when she receives her answer. She is wrong. There is no greater heartbreak than the answer she so desperately wanted to know. Right now, the weight in her heart is overflowing, as she feels it bleed with regret like a heavy torrent.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook—“

“I don’t deserve you, how could I let this happen?” He’s mumbling to himself, surrendering to his own madness underneath the silver moonlight.

[Name] hovers over him like a shadow, unable to touch him and unpleasantly forced to witness him breakdown. I made him like this. It’s my fault. Why can’t I just let it go? Why, why, why.

“You deserve more.” Her voice carries out into the night like a soft breeze, calling Jungkook back from his self induced nightmare.

With a sluggish pace that worries her, Jungkook lifts his head up and lands a pair of hesitant eyes on her. She frowns when she notes of the red rimming his swollen eyes and the starking paleness that weaves its way onto his complexion, a heartbreaking despair webs across his features like a parasite, depriving him from the beauty she’s come to love. This is all because of her, because she refuses to listen to him.

“We’re just one hell of a modern tragedy aren’t we?” He laughs, though it is coarse and without humor.

[Name] casts her eyes to the ground, fighting back the tears that threatens to spill from the unbearable ache in her heart.

That night, they leave the store and return to the car in silence. There is no second glances spared, even as Jungkook takes the vacant passenger seat by the driver instead of claiming the seat next to hers. Weary from the roller coaster of emotions, Jungkook slumps deep into the leather seat, hoping he can disappear from this night and from her for the rest of her life. It’s what’s best for her, especially after what he’s done.

Namjoon worries his bottom teeth at the unsettling tension that has suddenly encase the limo, but he says nothing, not when he catches the reflection of Jungkook’s face on the car’s window: the face of a man whose world has shattered before him.

The knowledge of the curse has anchored down the once halcyon days into one of uneasy distance and tense silence. Secret glances and hushed laughters becomes a distant memory that slips away from him like sand no matter how hard he tries to hold on. He’s never realized how quickly time ebbs with her constant company and demand for attention. Now that a wall has burrowed itself between them, the day seems never ending, and when it transitions to the inky darkness of night, it always ends in a fit of nightmares he’s not keen on recollecting.

Resisting her has been more difficult than he thought. It’s as he suspects, the second she wormed her way inside his heart, the absence of warmth it has stood by feeds off of her like a leech, and once she tears herself away, it is left starving for only her. Well, at least she seems to be faring of better than him. As long as she is happy, then he can live with this pain for the rest of his life, all for the chance to see her smile, even if not for him.

She’s found solace in her make-up artist and manager more often now, and he can’t lie to himself if he says he is not envious. He used to be her safe space, a place to confide in on the thoughts she’s never been able to say to anyone without risking judgement. It’s a privilege which he realizes he’s never truly appreciated before. Now he finds himself being the one to spare time to silently watch her—the only thing that has gotten him through his dark days—a habit he’s not even aware of having, only that it feels right.

There is something different in her smile nowadays, a certain restraint that cannot truly encompass the joy or amusement like she always had with him. He wish he can turn a blind eye to this. The last thing he needs is a reminder of how affected she had also been when his curse was revealed, of how good of an actress she is to be able to carry on through the day as if nothing has changed.

What he hates most about the situation between them are the nights of unbearable loneliness and regret spent fighting off the temptation to surrender to his dark thoughts. Sleep hasn’t been easy, and even then, he looks forward not to the dreams that wakes him with a painfully wrenched heart. Very much like tonight, where he finds himself curled on his couch, though his eyes are seemingly glued to the TV screen in focus, there is an impassiveness in his lack of movement and slow blinking.

The pitter patter of rain gently sings a song of heartbreak that reflects to his own state, and the shadows that has fallen upon the city provides the perfect gloom to wrap around his freezing heart. Though worn from sadness, he cannot cry, having dried his eyes off too much the night he confessed to her. All that is left is a hollowness aching to be filled.

A stuttered knock breaks through the cold night, interrupting the perfectly orchestrated beat of sorrow Jungkook nearly falls asleep to. He remains petrified, his mind leadened to a state of lacking any sort of motivation to go through the day. The knock repeats itself after a long moment, and Jungkook pries his eyes away from the TV, wondering silently who could be behind the oaken doors at an 11 PM on Saturday.

His steps are heavy with reluctance as he drags himself across the room. He half hoped whoever it is would go away and leave him to suffocate in his own self pity. A barely coherent what manage to escape him before his attention fixes onto the last person he thought would ever show up in his doorstep, her: dripping and heaving from the rain with the radiance of the golden sunshine that had been eclipsed from him. There shouldn’t be anything remotely attractive in the way she carries herself so recklessly like this. Yet he falls into a delighted silence, soaking in the unadulterated sight she presents so willingly to him. A sensation of lightness enters him, flushing away the lead coating his bones and the pressure on his chest, allowing him with an easiness to breathe.

The shock comes belatedly, after Jungkook’s mind process the reality that even in his most vivid of imagination he can never capture the details of the constellation of freckles dotting her skin so accurately, for she really is standing on his doorstep. He cannot hide the smile that blooms on his face. But the memory of that fateful night tugs at his mind, reeling him to cower behind his door with uncertainty.

“[Name]..” His voice is hoarse from its lack of use. There is no reason for him to speak if it’s not to her.

Her eyes watch him carefully, every curvature of his face: the prominent hollow under his cheekbones, the dip of his cupid’s bow and the familiar scar on his cheek she’s missed so terribly. There is a significant age that has caught on to him, despite it only having been less than a month since they fall into silence with each other. Is it perhaps the sorrow, or the hopelessness that weighs him most of all? She cannot determine, for even at its bleakest she feels her breath being taken away by the presence of him. She smiles, a soft curve of her lips that makes Jungkook’s heart lurch to reach out to her.

“Your face is a mess.” She says, after a long moment of silence.

Even when she is trapped in an emotionally draining mess, she still finds time to ridicule him. Like the smile that unknowingly appears whenever she is present, he laughs, an uncontrollable force that racks his chest with a joyful tingle. The ringing of his laughter infects her, bearing joy in the hearts that had been drowning in forlorn. As if all the emotional turmoil of the past weeks never existed, they fall back into their familiar pattern, of a liberation to truly be themselves that can mend each other’s broken hearts.

“Nice to see you’ve got your priority straight.” He jokes.

“Oh, I do, and it’s always you.” She confirms with a confidence that stuns him.

His teeth digs into the bottom of his lip, suppressing the shock from showing on his expression.

“Why are you here, [Name]? You’re cold and drenched! Please tell me you didn’t run all the way here in your pajamas.” His answer is only a sheepish smile.

A heavy sigh breaks out of him, though he is not sure whether it is out of disappointment or relief, perhaps both.

“Isn’t it obvious? When a girl runs through traffic lights and heavy rain to reach for your doorstep it means she loves you, you idiot.”

The word love has always been held back by both, they keep dancing around it as if it could burn them from the inside out. Though he knows that if either of them were to say it first, it would be her, always the more dauntless of the two. He just didn’t expect her to say it now, in the moment where their relationship is in the brink of collapsing, a vulnerable knot threatening to break. Jungkook inhales a shaky breath to steady himself, but the word that keeps ringing in his ear and the sound of his blood rushing makes it difficult for him to focus.

“[Name]..” He begins, hesitant.

“You’re cursed, I know.”

There is defiance in the upright stance in which she carries herself with, even though weighed down by her sopping attire and the stream of water dripping off of her hair, she is the cliff by the shore of the open ocean, steady and firm through the never ending waves. He doesn’t understand why she’s so sure, not when she seems to understand so little of the big picture.

“But you don’t understand—“

“No, you assume I don’t. Look, I get that you’ve been protecting me for a long while, you think I’m fragile and naive, and maybe it’s become a habit of yours to continue protecting me as if I know nothing of how unfair reality can be, but god damn it Jeon Jungkook for once in your life listen to what I have to say!”

He folds his lips shut, though he cannot hide the glimmer of intrigue and amusement shrouded in his silent smile.

“I know it’s just chemicals that makes me cling to you, but gosh making me fall in love with you is the greatest thing my body can ever give to me. You make your way into my veins, course right through my limbs, and dig right through my brain like a parasite, but Jungkook, it’s the most wonderful parasite I’ve ever had the honor of harboring. My life has always been an array of uncertainty and risks, a leaping stone that I could slip on. But you, you came to me, and I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. You are the ground that lays across the stream I’ve been crossing. There are cracks and blight on you, but you make me feel safe and real.” She says, with a clarity that terrifies him.

Jungkook wonders what he’s done to deserve this, this kind of selfish love that eats away at the soul and leaves you disoriented and broken like the cracked grounds after an earthquake. The damage and pain is addicting, a good kind of pain. And then he realizes that this love he has the honor of receiving is only due to his curse, the very mark that has tainted him and ostracize him from the rest of the world.

This love hurts, but it is a love that is specifically theirs. Not just his, he realizes. Because the pain and longing he thought he had experienced alone is wrong, all this time she too feels it. The words he can never articulate to describe the intensity of his emotions are robbed right out of his mouth and on to hers. She feels it too, the inevitable pull for each other that goes far beyond their limbs. Jungkook feels the warmth of his tears building behind his eyelids, a relief and weightlessness greater than that he’s ever received makes his heart soar in the confinements of his ribs.

“You don’t understand what you do to me, what you can make me do. Heck, I’ll let you drag me to hell if it means I get to hold your hand. Jeon Jungkook, if you think that a curse will keep me away from you then you really don’t know me at all.”

He’s not sure if it’s the rain or her own outburst of tears streaming down her face, but the urge to swipe his thumb over her damp skin becomes tenfold after the passionate confession. But he holds back, with the reminder that the curse still exists and can still very much harm her.

“I can never touch you, I can never hold your hand or kiss you. You’ll be sentenced to a very cold and lonely love with me.” He warns, a tinge of sorrow returning in the droop of his eyes.

[Name] laughs, airy and short, it can almost be mistaken as a cough. She shakes her head, letting droplets spill on to his cotton shirt.

“As long as it’s your love.” She assures.

This time he can’t fight back the onslaught of joy pricking at the back of his eyes, and he lets out a laugh of his own, just as airy, but filled with a happiness pure and bright, amidst attempting to mask the tears spilling on his cheeks.

“Gosh, you’re so stubborn,” He wipes at the tears, pressing on to his eyes until stars explode behind his eyelids, but when he opens them back she is still there, then he knows that this is truly not a dream, “Why me? Out of all the other celebrities and bodyguards and staff, why the heck pick the guy hardest to love?”

“The people who are hardest to love loves the hardest. And frankly, I’m not a pussy who will settle for anything less than a fucking thunderstorm.”

Jungkook chortles, choking in disbelief over how crude she can be at the most inappropriate of times. Though it is one of the quirks he finds himself growing fond over.

“I love it when you unnecessarily use vulgar words to get your point across.”

“What better way is there?”

Jungkook cannot respond. It is not rare of him to find himself speechless because of her. As if taking his breath away is not enough, she also knows how to take the words right out of his mouth. The moment simmers, and with it, Jungkook’s attention inadvertently travels to her, to the lips that shapes her silent laughter. He licks his own, wondering to himself if he’ll ever be able to have a taste of her the way he truly wants to. It’s human nature, to want more than what you already have. And now that he finally has her, he desperately wants to feel her. To convey the affection and wonder he holds for her with something that is a lot more permanent than words.

“I love you, and I really want to kiss you.” He admits, because it’s the least he can give her.

[Name] falls uncharacteristically silent. Her fingers fidget against each other with the force of an earthquake, its is enough to make her tangle them together in the pocket of her hoodie to stop them. The intensity that lies beneath his words burns her inside, boiling the blood in her veins and warming her skin with a force enough to make her forget about the chill from the rain. Jungkook wonders of the sudden shift in the self assured and confident woman before him, why now she appears so very small and timid unlike she ever is. Has his words impact her as great as what she always does to him?

“Mannered men usually invite the women in before jumping at them you know.” She says, turning the attention away from her.  

A pink flush floods his cheek, for he hasn’t even realized of how distracted he has been with her and her confession to have forgotten about the alarming situation she is in. Thoughtfully, he reprimands himself for not prioritizing her shivering form and what it might do to her health far earlier.

“O-Oh, shoot, you’re going to get sick!” He realizes a tad too late.

Jungkook ushers her in with haste, overcome with the over protective and doting side of him she always finds entertaining in witnessing. To think that the cold hearted man the world sees him as is tripping over his own feet in a clumsy attempt to warm her. How cute.

“But, hey, if you still want that kiss, I think I might have an idea.” She yells, craning her head in a look out for him who had disappeared past one of the doors.

Jungkook’s mop of brown hair pops out from one of the doorway, his scrunched expression a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity that draws similarity to that of an adorable child. He returns to her side with freshly laundered clothes and a towel.

“Here’s a fresh pair of change. They’re a bit tight on me, so I think it’ll fit on you. Um, shower, right, bathroom is on—“

She makes no move to accept it, instead opting to rummage past her hoodie for an item she’s hidden there. Jungkook’s train of thoughts halt, its course shifting down a path of perverse at her sudden action. He turns his eyes away, though he cannot control the rush of blood from showing on his cheeks. [Name] wants to laugh at the embarrassment he bears in this moment, though she can’t help but feel a certain kind of admiration for the manner he possess. Still, she can’t let this slip away without as much as an attempt to further humiliate him.

“Wow, do you seriously think I’m the type of shameless girl who undresses herself after confessing her love?” She asks with a tone bordering on a full on giggle.

“[Name], honestly—“

“Well, I mean, maybe for Chris Hemsworth, sure, but, as much as I love you, you’re nowhere close to him.”

Jungkook’s skin cools down once he’s gotten a grasp of the ambience in her joke. If his embarrassment for his thoughts had gone on longer, he would’ve missed the way she so casually slips in an I love you, as if the days they’ve spent hadn’t been spent avoiding the words. He almost chokes on his own breath, though fortunately has caught himself before she could hear him. Jungkook swivels his attention back to her, but it quickly falters when he catches sight of a questionable item that she must’ve pulled out from her hoodie. Of course, how in the hell could he ever think of the idea of her undressing herself so readily for him?

“What’s that?”

Wet fingers unravel itself around the item and allowing Jungkook to decipher the inscription written in the box, which only further confuses him.

“Plastic wrappers? For leftovers?”

[Name] isn’t deterred by his lack of understanding as she tears it open eagerly, a thin layer of it is unrolled and poised over his adorably clueless face.

“To think, it only took an agonizing weeks of silence and a spontaneous confession in the rain for you to admit you want to kiss me, huh?”

Jungkook is still very much confused.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking since the fight, you see—and maybe a lot of crying too.” She says, ducking her head down as she hesitantly adds the last sentence.

Something squeezed terribly hard at his heart, the thought of her: tear streaked, tender skin splotched in unpleasant shades of red and touched with inflammation from the force of such a heartbreaking outburst. All because of him.

“You can’t touch me because of the curse, but that only applies when your skin makes direct contact with mine. You can touch me through your gloves, and I can touch you through your clothes, so I thought—“

Something flickers in the enthusiasm she wears when Jungkook’s confusion refuses to fade. Rather than puzzled, perhaps she had misread him, and maybe he doesn’t feel as sincere about his words as she does. She frowns, lowering the plastic wrap back to her side.

“I can kiss you through that wrapper.” He finishes, after a beat of tense silence.

Clarity lights his features into one of happiness, capturing the essence of ocean waves breaking the sunset into rippling kaleidoscope she can never resist in looking. [Name] can feel herself falling in love with him all over again at this sight.

“Y-Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

Silence always manage to embed its claws between them, though no longer does its talons make them bleed. Now, it has become a familiar part of their relationship. This time, the silence in the room contains a certain nervous energy that drives both to shyly turn away from each other’s gazes.

“I mean, if you’d like to try it—I guess—there’s no harm in it.” Jungkook stutters, feet shifting against the cold tiles.

“Do you?” She asks.

Another silence enters, though it carries a meaning that is enough to answer her question. Jungkook welcomes himself to her warmth with a certainty she can never predict, as if he had belonged there all along, he sneaks his way into her hold. She can barely process it, process him: arms taught around her waist with the desperate longing of belonging to a place that is permanent, he is so close, so comfortable in settling within her hold with an ease she can ever imagine him to have. The dampness in the room tastes sweet on the roof of her mouth, and the colors in the muted room bursts with an intensity that shouldn’t be possible in such a gloomy lighting. But it is because it’s him, it’s him holding on to her and him professing his love to her in a way that he fears the most.

Before she can return his embrace his grip has loosened, and both instinctively draw their heads back with the desire to soak in each other at such close distance. She maps the blemishes and each shade of color that exists on his face to save in her memory, a sight so rare she wishes she could continue seeing him like this forever.

“Kiss me.” He whispers.

Her fingers shake around the plastic wrapper, though she wills herself to bring it between them she can’t, the function of her limbs disconnected from her jumbled state of mind at the simple request. Another set of hand comes to her aid and Jungkook takes the plastic wrapper over their faces, her vision of him ripples at the appearance of the plastic sheen. Neither move immediately, too afraid of ruining this moment. The courage that usually flows in her cannot be found, she can only continue to cherish the sight of him so close to her. Then he moves, a sluggish confidence surging over him. His display of courage pushes her to mirror his movements, meeting him halfway from the other side of the plastic wrapper.

The tang of the plastic tastes synthetic to her tongue, but the fire under his lips sets her senses ablaze and her nerves to haywire, the awful taste of plastic becomes nothing but a miniscule stardust in the universe that explodes behind her eyelids. A chill tingles her spine, ice and fire clashes within her system and sends her body into overdrive from the overwhelming sensations. It is as if the world collectively breaths out a blissful sigh as they kiss, a sense of feeling whole she never thought she was missing fills in the cracks and dents in her heart.  

The chill of the rain greets her lips when he withdraws for air, though she can’t find any disappointment like she expected to feel, not when the memory of his warmth still lingers in her system. She blinks slowly, afraid that she cannot capture enough of his flushed face and starry eyed expression at this moment.

“That was..” He doesn’t finish, not knowing how exactly he can describe the sensations flooding him.

“Plastic-y.” She offers with a shrug.

Jungkook shuts his eyes, a low groan bubbling from within his throat. The air flows gentler at her answer, with a lighthearted feeling they both land in easy familiarity.

“So, um, I really don’t want to further ruin the moment—I mean I’ve always imagined it a bit different to be honest, though it is still amazing—but, well, someone needs to tell my manager that my bodyguard is my new boyfriend.”

Jungkook purses his lips, mind still leadened with the memory of the kiss to properly process her words quickly.

“Not it!”

“Not—darn it.”

If the wrath of her manager and the rest of the world is what he has to face for the opportunity to see her happy because of him, then he’ll let the heavens burn for their love.

#bts scenario #bts x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #bts #bts fluff #bts au #bodyguard!jungkook #gyuwrites

[namjoonchronicles]

wall of ours | nj

▶ I do believe in our galaxy.

Cruel as it may seem, loyalty cannot be measured. It takes years to built, and seconds to demolish, just like trust. Marriage is a gamble. It's a contract between two hearts, with principles and liability--some kind of law-abiding relationship coated with the presence of the most fundamental element as a foundation; which is indisputable, love.

"Namjoon, please don't forget to wash the dishes," you rushed outside to the living, shoving your phone into your purse, zipping it as quickly as you can while he handed you your car keys with a small smile. His eyes are in the shape of crescents as the corner of his lips curl upward. He placed one hand on the door frame, the other holding it open and lowered his face, fishing for a kiss from you. 

Your hands placed themselves on each side of his cheek and pull him down, giving him what he wanted with little to no hesitation. He chuckles through his nose when you reminded him once more that you needed the house cleaned wherever possible. "I'm really counting on you, okay?" You sang, your eyes twinkling at it meet his and he nodded, grinning. His bangs poking the corner of his eyes, and you fix it away with your finger, "You need a hair cut," you thumbed his cheek and he murmured in low voice, "You'll be late." Exhaling, you circled your arm around his neck, on your toes and buried your face in the crook of his neck, "I'm terrified."

You felt his hand in the back of your hair, with an assuring brush of lips on your shoulder, and a firm hold around the back of your ribs. And with that alone, he is wordlessly saying, "I have faith in you."

Because the foundation of marriage is to take the sweetness along with the bitterness of your significant other. Because being in love is to be imperfect together. It's to provide wherever needed and more. You and Namjoon had a long way to go to understand what each other doesn't say, but with every day passing, you are progressing. Namjoon became the gravitational force that keeps your universe in the orbits. Being with Namjoon makes the barricades blurs out; the uncertainties, certain, the doubts you have upon yourself, disappears when he's around. He is the one you hold on to when things looks unpromising, because in the world filled with inconsistency, he is the only thing that is firm and constant. He's your stone--the only one that holds you without strings, your secrets became his truth, a whole planet that watches over you even when he's far. To you, devotion is a big word but isn't deep enough to convey the feeling you have towards him. And God you prayed, you begged, for him to feel the same way.

With every touch, and every words--you're rest assured that he does.

The smile he puts on whenever he approached for a kiss, the subtle touches when no one is watching. Tipping his head up so you could brush your lips on his chin and he'll grin at the surprise, tightening his grip around your hand.

Maybe the scholars were wrong. Maybe there is no way we could accurately define love. Because it is in the food you make for him, the little scribbles of his writings on the tiny post-it notes, because it's in the way he looked at you across the room filled with strangers knowing only you, maybe it's in the way you tiptoed to his office and leaned your head on his shoulder in search for comfort--hoping, trusting, believing that he is the pillar you could depend on, rely on, a safe place to land, when everything is on fire, and demolished. Because love is in the way he takes you in, inhaling you like oxygen, and every subtle touches magnifies the thrill he felt for you, or the way his smile lingers after every kisses.

Namjoon spent the noon, washing the dishes. Keeping his phone on the loudest ringer, incase you sent a message or called when he's cleaning. He carries them everywhere he goes. He neatened the bed sheets and fluffed the pillows. Fix the curtains and tie them, to keep it open. Sneezes. He picks up the books on the floor in your reading corner and place them on the racks in alphabetical order. The blanket left on the rug reminded him of the nights before. He didn't think you'd say yes, but you replied, "I would love to look at the moon with you." He always thought that keeping track of moonlight calendar is something really corny but there you were, genuinely enjoying the time with him. Basking in the zealous moonlight by the window, surrounded by his favourite books. He really felt appreciated. So yes, yes he will clean this house the best way he could for the guests that are coming. He wanted to impress them but mostly, he wants to know more about you. And he knows that this guests will surely give him an in depth clue about you, since they've been around you, for awhile. And it's their first trip to the country.

Meeting them is like meeting a piece of you. Although they're aren't the perfect sculpture of what you're made up of, surely enough, they contributed some.

Because in every broken pieces of you that he sought after, collected and kept, he promises that healing only begins when you allow it to. "Don't value your professional life in the eyes of another," he spoke in murmurs, in the middle of the night, that night. When the streets of the busiest city quieted down, and your thoughts are screaming, his whispers were louder, more vivid and his face is all you see. Underneath that blanket, you created a world with him where all that mattered was you two. Thumbing your cheek, sleepy eyes and a small space between you two, it was a universe Namjoon arranged for you, to keep away the negativity, to negate the possibilities, to reveal all your insecurities like how he reveals his. The crescent eye smile he gave you when you told him that he has the cutest chin, the exchanging kisses on the nose and the little deep giggle that sounded like a hum, little music to your ear. The close proximity enables you to cater to him what his heart desired most, but couldn't ask for--devotion.

Rushing out the elevator, you dashed out the parking area and clicked open the car. "Why did it have to be today... of all day," you sighed.

You had to cover for a friend because she had decided to take an emergency leave for whatever reason and you weren't sure if you're opt to be functional today, knowing that you dislike to be thrown into a work schedule you didn't plan ahead of. Cytotoxic Drug Reconstituition is a very heavy division of the Pharmaceutical deperatment because it roams around specialised regiments for patients under chemotherapy. And although you've done your two-year training in it, and is about to be transferred there in a week time, there was no excuse for the head of pharmacist to be using your expertise just because her two assistants says that you're available. But because shit happens, you've decided not to think about it too much because it only brings you headache. And it's not like you can't. It was just, out of a sudden. Uncalled for.

Unexpected.

A Snicker bar dropped to the floor of the car. And you remembered all the incident that led to that chocolate bar to be bought. It was for Namjoon. Because like you right now, Namjoon too, felt insecure about himself, second-guessing, hesitating about something he shouldn't.

It was raining. Quite heavily that day. So much, that every parking space were taken. The wipers thudding end on end, and visibility decreased to 20%.

Trickling sound of the rain hitting against the windshield while he waits for you in the passenger seat, his eyes worrying over cars that couldn't pass through since you parked at the junction of a pretty wide road--and he couldn't help to move the car away because he doesn't have a driving license yet. Fishing his phone out, he tapped on your name and sent a message.

Him: did you find it? Wife: yup. I'm queueing to pay. Are we obstructing anybody's way? Him: so far, no... Wife: I'll be right there as soon as I can

And right there and then, his guilt rises. He stares quietly as you drove. Mapping the shape of your features in the back of his mind, his shallow and soundless breathing, he tightened his fist and loosens it. You took one glance at him and you said, "...do not. I know what you're thinking, and no." Namjoon blinked away, hiding his smile with his hand and pushed him further into the seat as if he had been found out. He hates how his thoughts becomes so transparent when it comes to you. He giggles but you know he is only doing that to take away the depth of the conversation he denied to have. He laughs, "...things would have become easier if I did. You can rest for awhile whenever you need to. Instead of driving me around. I feel less--"

"--don't say it. Do not say it. I forbid you," you warned him as you drive swiftly through the city street. "Less like a man when I can't drive," he exasperatedly sigh, staring out the window at the bushes, from a moving car. You understand why he felt that way. 

It wasn't the first time, and definitely, won't be the last. 

In the beginning of your relationship, Namjoon had clearly showed you that he is, pre-definitively ; nothing perfect. Early on, he hated the fact that he wanted you so much, needed you so much that all his efforts to approach you becomes the wall he vowed to never cross. His aloofness, his indifferent attitude, his withdrawn nature--facade he puts on in efforts to keep you at bay; all corrupted him into being delirious on his own.

Who was he to deny something so indefinitely strong? Who was he to fight his own fate? When did he get so co-dependant?

He had no one to blame, but himself. He allowed this to happen. Strangers to acquintance. Acquintance to friends. Friends to lovers. It was a classic tale of love not just at first sights. He knows he won't jump into relationship without knowing who you are, and what you are.

Therefore, he devised a life-long plan.

And it is going to be painful because he will convey many truths inside the conversations he will have. He was ready to carve himself into the man you wanted him to be, fill the mold of your deepest fantasy. His plan was to tell you that he'll become anything you desired.

But your answers silent him. It silent him.

Never before has he heard such depth of words coming from someone he knew. Especially about him. "I don't want to love what you pretend to be. I want to love who you already are, and who you will become as we progress... I want you. And all your broken pieces," you told him, eyes boring into his frightened pairs. He was unprepared. He knew he was unprepared and did all the necessary measures to feel equipped, but he was still heavily unprepared for what you bring with you--your spirituality and honesty. Lord, did it shakened him. Heavens, his heart slowed down the very moment he heard you say it. To know someone who would love even your broken pieces, is liberating. It felt like the planets finally aligned to ensure this would happened.

Where have you been all my life?

Until it hits him. "You haven't seen my broken pieces. How can you love it?" He murmured against the coffee as he brought the brim close to his plump lips, unintentionally pressing his dimples as he lick the residue by mashing his petals together.

"I am a very difficult person to love," he darted, "I lack a lot. I don't know anything about relationships." The last one he had was when he was a teenager who thought he knew everything there is about love and relationships, but goodness, how wrong was he. That was the relationship that dictates how he was incapable of love and being loved. Foolish, you'd say if you heard his thoughts. He forgots that time do educate, and wounds do heal. "It's going to be difficult to be with me," he added again. And to be honest, there's nothing you could say in return to that. But the way he pictured himself hurts you. He felt he is insufficient enough to deserve all the finer things in life. He worries about the possibilities before it even happens, and you could tell that this man has 'stopped and turned away' many times when it comes to love. "But still. You want someone to be with you," you whispered. And it baffled Namjoon how a whisper can sound so loud in his brain than in his ear. He was going to hurt you with his denials, but you're so persistent.

"I enjoy being with you, I really do... your work ethics, your antics, your everything," you trailed, "...suddenly, the world isn't that lonely anymore, now that you're here."

Your galaxies matched each other. Destined to meet, and you were hoping that he felt the same way. But his walls are the toughest to be brought down. Little did you know, he made you an exception. Because that rainy night by the tiny window, Namjoon spoke to the moon about possibilities without filters, without the tough exterior and bare his soul open while you watched the same night of clustered stars. "I met someone I don't think I deserved. Is it possible that I was allowed to have this person?" he pauses, setting his hand behind him as he sat on the floor next to the couch you have in your living room, with you. "Can I be greedy and want something I don't have confidence of keeping? Can I have this person?" his voice gets softer and he brought his face close to you, waiting for you to turn and face him. You were smiling gently like you knew the secret the moon told you. His lips parted a little and he whispered, "Can I have you?" He gulped while he waited for your answer. And underneath the moonlight, you both shared a lip-lock that would put Romeo and Juliet to shame.

It was a tantalizing sprinkle of confettis and glitters when your lips met his. A simple gesture of love that meant more than the lustful ones and you knew then, that this man loved you for you. Linking your forehead together, just enjoying the after bliss of a heartfelt confession--celebrating the innocence of two knotted hearts.

His insecurities is one of the many things you were married to. When you chose to spend your life with him, you chose to love his good as well as his bad. And frankly, he did the same.

Namjoon kept in track of your aunt's family. Took the initiative to  contact them through messages because you had to work. He knows that once you're inside the clean room (a room free of particles necessary for reconstitution process) you won't be able to come to the phone. You usually text him before you did. "Babe, I'm gonna go in now, I love you..." You left a voice message for him, and he replied with a red beating heart emoticon before texting your aunt. Namjoon is going to call them a taxi and have the driver send them to the apartment you share with him. But they haven't even gotten into the plane. Namjoon ensured that the whole house is vacuumed and filled the fridge with drinks and good snacks. There's lego pieces for your nephew to play with when he arrives. Namjoon heard that he breaks everything he touches too. He was looking forward to meet him.

The reconstituition process will take awhile. The previous pharmacist didn't finish the paperwork and didn't do the needed calcuations for the batch that needed to be delivered today before she leaves, so you were left doing that alone for hours. That irresponsible act had extended your working hours, annoyed you to the max and you're trying not to curse out loud with your assistant around, handling calls from angry doctors and nurses who are demanding answers on the late delivery of the bags they ordered. Through the intercoms (the only communicating device available in the clean room) beeped and you tipped your head at it from the inside. Your assistant, Hoseok asked, "Boss, are you alright? You need a bathroom trip? A phonecall to make? I'm bored out here alone..." His husky voice wasn't filtered at all. And you pressed the intercom to reply, haughtily, "I don't want the hassles having to do the scrubbing process all over again, so that's a no from me. Do I look like I'm having fun in here to you?" You snapped.

"I was just asking to be nice..." he whines, "There's this one doctor I don't want to talk to. He is from Ward 8B and his staffs are mean. That's why nobody wants to take the regiments in queue from that ward." He added. "...You can't nitpick on wards, because at the end of the day, we serve the patients. Being biased does not help in this situation. Even though they prove to be difficult, take that as a challenge... " you said in a nurturing voice, while syringing out Doxorubicin vial and into the infusion bottle. "Inspiring, no wonder they made you come here..." Hoseok sighed into the intercom. "Hoseok," you called, "...I hear the phone ringing, from outside" you sang and you saw him from the glass barriers, dragging his feet outside, jumping in place cutely because that's probably an enquiry call from Ward 8B. You prayed that you made it out alive before your aunt touches down, but you also understand that if you rush things, errors could happen and you want to be home, in one piece.

With the passing hours, he has heard nothing from you and he is growing anxious. You both had a long conversation about it.

About you having to be in Chemotherapy department. One of the issues were, medical staffs in that specific department are not advised to conceive as long as their service there. And Namjoon's parent have told you about wanting grandchild this year, if possible. It has been five years. "That's now what you should worry about..." Namjoon held you close, wrapping you in blankets. "This is necessary for your advancement, and we're still young, we can have children when we deem is right, this is our life and we take charge of it..." He reassured you with calm and soothing whispers. You sniffed, "...but we can't have kids for like a year, and, they'll ask about it in our next family gathering, and I won't know what to say because I promised that it will be soon...that you and I are going to," you choked, voice breaking in tears, sniffed again and, "...that we're gonna have babies, and then this letter came," you throw the letter next to your feet and Namjoon catches it and fold it neatly, place it aside, hugging your head.

Namjoon hushes you, smiling widely. "Look, we've waited more than five years to be together, I think we can definitely wait another five," you heard him say. "I'm sorry..." you gripped tighter to his collar. "...Okay you need to stop, this comes with the job, sweetie, it doesn't make you less of a hot wife," he chuckled and you smiled grimly.

Take the good with the bad, remember?

"...can I ask you to be in your white coat, the next time we're having woohoo hour?" Namjoon purred. "No...that's my work attire," you shot, in nasally voice. "...But why not," he whined. "...Because I need to work in these, and it has to stay pure. Because if we do woohoo with me in this, it's all I think about later, and I have to focus and be professional," you explained. "Oh," he feigned an acceptance and replied, haughtily, "...it's not okay for you to woohoo in your work white coats but it's okay for us to woohoo in my work studio? Where in the woohoo law is that legal?" He protested. You giggled, "...should we woohoo in the clean room, if you want to get even." Namjoon looks at you suggestively.

"Absolutely not, clean room is kept cold so that no bacteria cultivates. You're going to raise the temperature just by being there," you shook your head. "Are you indirectly implying that I'm hot?" he smirked, poking your sides until you jolt and tickle fight began out of context.

Namjoon called your aunt when he figured it was right, and she chirped against the phone, in a motherly voice, "...I think I saw the taxi," reading out loud the plate numbers and Namjoon deemed it was correct. They'll be arriving in an hour or so. Shortly after that call ended, you reached him.

"I'm finally out of the freezer, I can't believe I was thrown into a disorganized clutter piece of department I was holding back curses the whole time, I just want to be home, but I need to pee first," you called and he replied, "...look at you, just this morning you were being all worried about not being able to perform, now you already sound like a boss." Namjoon gushes proudly, making his way down the hall outside and stabbing the elevator button, going down. "...you have no idea. The tools were kept uncalibrated, records were scattered in multiple files, and schedules aren't updated, it was a nightmare. Good thing was Hoseok, the assistant I was scheduled with, today, who are very keen to learning although is pretty unexperienced with dealing with difficult neighboring departments, but he's progressing," you sighed and he can hear you shut the bathroom door. "Are you peeing as we speak?" He asked out of curiousity. You sat on the toilet bowl, "...no," and then, "...now I am. Feels so good." You moaned and it sent chills all over Namjoon's body.

The power you had over him, is unfathomable. Even through the phone, he was floored by you. "I can't wait for you to come home," he sighed. "I've been away for like ten hours, chill," you flushed and walked to the sink nearby, ran your hand underneath the running water, "...did you clean the house?"

"I most certainly did, and I did a pretty good job," he hikes a breath in, "...so I would like to ask for a small token of appreciation."

You rolled your eyes because you already know that this was going to happen. "...What, what do you want?"

He smirked as the door to the elevator opens to the lobby area, "I want a picture of you in a white coat, and nothing else before you get home." End call.

Kinky fucker. "What makes he think he has the right to demand... especially when I haven't seen the result of this 'cleaned house' he was talking about..." you muttered to yourself. Your eyes fidgets to the staffs' changing room, and blinked away. "Hoseok, I'm gonna use the changing room for awhile..." Hoseok poked his head and tipped his glass, "...sure."

Between the walls we barricade for each other, we accept their family, their relatives, their weakness and strengths.

Like Namjoon is welcoming your relatives warmly, already holding hands with your nephew and carrying him in his arms. You drove home, certain that he had done all he can to help you.

Because as a home, you don't choose who resides in them. When trust and loyalty is established, you have a persistent partnership. But the material that enhances and ensure the cemented foundations of a home, is most definitely, compassion and devotion. Namjoon is your home, like you are to him.

"Home is not a place, but a person. They keep you sheltered," Namjoon reminded you, "...they are wall of ours. Our little galaxy."

Namjoon liked his token of appreciations a lot. A lot- a lot. Like, hella. But having to keep it quiet while your relatives are literally next door, is definitely a challenge.

#bts #wall of ours #bangtan boys #bts fics #kim namjoon #bts fanfic #bts namjoon #knj #kpop #kpop fanfic #bts x reader #bts angst #namjoon fluff #domestic au #namjoon domestic au #namjoon #rapmon #rm #namjooon #namjoon ff #reader insert #namjoon imagines #namjoon x reader #bangtan writers #bts writers #armysnet #bts rm #hyungline fanfic #beyond the scene

[littlewritingcorner]

New story posted to my main writing account :) finally trying to finish some things. Not a sick fic, but if you like angsty little cats, enjoy ^_^

Summery: Christmas without his mother had been hard enough, but Adrien never expected New Years to feel even worse. When his dad won't speak to him he tries to close himself off, but Marinette reminds him that he can always rely on his friends for comfort and a shoulder to cry on when the world gets to be too much.

Click the link or read more below :)

Adrien sighed, lost in a fuzzy cloud of half-thoughts as he stared blankly at his ceiling. Even scrolling through the pictures in his phone was too much effort at the moment. The smiling face that normally comforted him only seemed to make the tightness in his chest worsen.

“C’mon, Adrien. Stop sulking. You’ll feel better if you do something!” Plagg coached, hovering around Adrien’s head. The blonde sighed and shrugged, rolling his eyes towards his kwami. He knew he could talk to the cat, but whatever he said Plagg wouldn’t understand it. Instead Adrien rolled over, hugging his pillow and closing his eyes.

“Can’t I just lay here for once? You’re the one always telling me to be lazy. Well, here it is. I’m being lazy,” he mumbled. Plagg’s ears drooped. He knew Adrien missed his mom and the Christmas holiday had been hard for him, but Plagg thought his friend would have been over it after how happy he’d been with his friends that night.

“What about that party Alya’s having?” Plagg suggested hopefully. As if on queue Adrien’s phone buzzed with a text from Nino to make sure he was still going to the party that night. Adrien frowned and tossed the phone to the side, not able to make himself take the time to write back. He wanted to go, but the thought was exhausting. As much as he knew sitting in bed and wallowing wouldn’t change anything, having to act all happy and cheery for the party was beyond him.Happy, party atmosphere. The normal perky guy he was but couldn’t remember how to be. That’s what they would expect.

There was a fist gripping around his chest tighter and tighter as he watched the clock tick by, chastising him that he needed to answer his friend before he could think there was something wrong. He’d excepted the invitation quickly in hopes the party would help distract him from his thoughts but he’d underestimated how badly New Year’s Eve was going to affect him. He buried his face into his pillow further to hide away from reality for a few more minutes.

It didn’t help that his dad had been holed away since that Christmas dinner with his friends. Adrien thought he might have opened up a little after that. Maybe they could have talked about his mom, or spent some time together for once. He knew his father had to be upset too, but for all their shared pain the man couldn’t (or wouldn’t ), express it to his son. That might have been the only reason Adrien sat up and texted Nino back.

Staying in the same house as his father while being ignored made things even worse. His mother would have been singing songs and getting a party of her own together. She would have decorated the house to the nines and then some. There’d be burnt cookies that she’d giggle about before letting the chief’s make a new batch, and warm arms pulling him close whenever he came within reach.

The emptiness of the house was palpable. A heavy black curtain hung about the home where bright lights and cheer should have been. Even the Christmas tree still sitting in their foyer that Adrien had so painstakingly decorated felt cold and lifeless in the stark entryway. The mansion could only drain every ounce of happiness away.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and swiped at his eyes before texting Nino to see if he was free to hang out before the party. He needed to get out of the house before it suffocated what life he had left in him.

An afternoon of video games with his best friend had mostly cheered him up. Being free from the stifling mansion and able to ignore the absence of his father helped dull the tightness in his chest; so long as his mind didn’t wander. The sharp cold wind blowing at his cheeks while they made their way to Alya’s for the evening helped as a distraction. Part of him wondered if Hawkmoth would sense the dark cloud hanging around him and send an akuma after him. Adrien wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to resist if he did.

“Adrien!”

“What?” Adrien was pulled out of his daze long enough to catch the concern ghosting across Nino’s face before it brightened again and he was nudged in the arm .

“I asked if there was anyone you wanted to catch under the mistletoe tonight,” he grinned. The snow whipped around them and Adrien tucked his nose deeper into the fuzzy blue scarf he’d gotten for his birthday.

“Not really?”

“Chloe?” Nino chuckled, amused by the screech he earned in reply.

“No! You know I don’t like her like that!” Adrien groaned, grateful for the conversation. Nino laughed loudly and shoved his hands in his pockets before side-eyeing the blonde.

“So there’s no one? Not even… I don’t know… Marinette maybe?” he offered. Adrien couldn’t explain the sudden skip of his heartbeat and shook his head.

“N-no. I mean, why?” he asked, glaring at Nino playfully. Nino shrugged and scratched his nose with a gloved finger.

“No reason. She’s not dating anyone. And she’s cute. Why wouldn’t you want to kiss her? Besides, if you could sidetrack Marinette I might be able to get Alya alone.”

“Ooooh. So there’s the real reason!” Adrien laughed and shoved his friend lightly. “Dude, she’s you’re girlfriend. You really think she won’t kiss you?”

“Well, we haven’t kissed yet! And I thought… I dunno… you know… a New Year’s kiss under the  mistletoe…” he mumbled.

“I’m sure you’ll get a kiss. Don’t worry about it too much.”

“Who’s going to get a kiss?” Alya’s voice pipped up loud and clear from behind the boys who froze and squawked in surprise.

“Alya! I didn’t… Hi! We were just… why are you guys here?” Nino stuttered with a mad blush while his girlfriend giggled and looped her arm into Marinette’s.

“I was helping with the pastry boxes. Marinette’s dad baked us a regular feast tonight. Right, Marinette? We’ll hardly need dinner.”

Marinette’s eyes glanced up to Adrien then down to the boxes in her arms.

“I…um.. I told him not to make so much but…”

“Let me help,” Adrien smiled and took the top box out of Marinette’s arms. She stuttered out a thank you and the four made their way up to the apartment. Adrien easily fell into step by Marinette with Nino’s joking going to his head. What would Marinette do if he did try to kiss her under the mistletoe that night? He’d never kissed anyone before. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be good at it! Marinette probably wouldn’t like it anyway, they were only friends after all. And she was so shy, he didn’t want to put her on the spot. No, it was better left an idle thought.

Helping to set up for the party had been another blessed distraction for him. He found himself offering to do anything he could to keep himself busy and his thoughts clear. Once people had started showing up he tried to be as jovial as he could manage. It was his first New Year’s party with friends and that much made it easier to bare.

The music was loud, the food was good, the company was warm and inviting and Adrien felt himself wishing it wouldn’t end. But all to soon the count down started and everyone huddled off together. Rose and Juleka; Alya and Nino; Nat off drawing on the couch next to Alix; Myleen with Ivan. Marinette hovered between the couch and Adrien but Adrien hardly noticed. As the clock counted down the swirling darkness that he’d pushed away for so long was creeping back up to him.

His throat closed and his chest tightened as the ball dropped and the room burst out in cheering, hugs, and kisses. He didn’t notice Alya pulling Nino in for their first kiss or the worried eyes from Marinette as he stared off into the void. Everything was going to come to a close soon and then he’d have to go back to his quiet room in his quiet house and sit in the dark. He swallowed and clenched his fists as the world teetered. It felt like everything was falling sideways and he wasn’t sure which way was up anymore.

Suddenly a warm hand took his wrist and the world straightened again. Marinette was frowning gently and tugging his wrist discreetly to follow her out. Adrien didn’t question her as he was led outside of the party and the noise was drowned out behind the door. He took a deep breath and the warmth around his wrist was gone.

“What… uh… did you…” Adrien didn’t know what to ask. His mind was still reeling, moments away from being swallowed by the pit he’d been running from for days. His thoughts were in chaos and his heart was hammering against his ribs, all while his body felt numb and lifeless.  

“You looked like you needed to get out of there. Are you alright?” she asked carefully. Adrien looked down and nodded, trying to force a smile on.

“Y-Yeah. I’m…” he felt the heat stinging behind his eyes and quickly looked up at the lights to stop himself from crying when one of Alya’s neighbors came out of their apartment cheering. A few more joined them and Adrien stiffened. Everything was too overwhelming and he couldn’t keep himself together.

“Let’s go somewhere quieter. Follow me,” Marinette spoke gently and took his hand again. Marinette’s touch sent a comfortable warmth through him that magically pushed the darkness further and made breathing a little easier. She lead them up a staircase to the roof of the building and the blissful quiet enveloped them. The cold bit at his fingertips but Adrien didn’t care.

“Thanks,” he said softly and made his way over to the tall ledge. He leaned on it, looking out over the city lights sparkling brightly and the fireworks going up behind the Eiffel Tower. He felt Marinette join him, quietly gazing at the scenery by his side.

The tightness swelled in his chest again as he remembered watching these same fireworks from their rooftop with his mother. There special time together in the festivities as far back as he could remember. She’d pull him aside and take him to the roof so they could take in the New Year, just the two of them. The pressure was building and he was afraid even the slightest slip would send him spiraling, and yet he found himself speaking as if his mind had enough and couldn’t keep in one more thought in silence.

“Have you ever felt completely alone?” Adrien asked, clenching his fists against the cement barrier. Marinette watched him carefully, trying to understand where Adrien was coming from. “Have you ever felt… completely numb…to everything?” he swallowed, not sure why he was suddenly saying this. He felt ready to burst, and Marinette always felt so safe to talk to.

He didn’t expect her to answer with a quiet ‘yes’, or for her to twine her warm fingers over his own ice cold ones. It jolted him enough to at least look up at her, eyes damp and warm and disbelieving.

“Really?”

“Yes,” she spoke quietly and her eyes briefly darted to their hands and then the scenery. They skittered around for the least awkward point of focus she could manage as he waited patiently for her to continue. If she would continue. He could see the hesitation shimmering in her eyes and was ready to tell her she didn’t need to continue. He shouldn’t have asked. He didn’t know why he’d said anything at all.

Her fingers tightened around his hand reassuringly and the hesitation melted away into determination. His breath caught in his throat as her soft blue eyes met his with such steadiness that all he could do was meet her gaze.

“I know what loneliness can feel like. But, even if it feels like it won’t, talking to people can help. It’s hard sometimes, but if you don’t let anyone know you’re hurting, no one can help you.”

His breath hitched quietly and he looked back down at their hands, watching them swim in his vision. He was going to break in two, he was sure of it. The pain in his chest would split him in half and that would be it.

“How do you start?” he asked pitifully in a small, tight voice. Marinette saw the need for a gentle push, the hanging tears in Adrien’s eyes breaking her heart. She shifted to try to get in Adrien’s line of sight again.

“Wherever you want to. What do you feel right now?” she prompted, a little shocked when the tears finally fell and Adrien clenched her hand back tightly.

“Like I’m going to fall apart,” he spoke finally, voice quivering and quiet. “Like…I can’t breath,” he shuddered on a hitched breath and a short sob. “It hurts so much,” he sobbed and pulled his hand away to pull his elbows up onto the wall and hide his face in his hands. “I didn’t… I didn’t think it c-could hurt s-so much.” His fingers tightened in his bangs as the pain grew sharper and holding back the sobs became impossible. He tried to rein himself in but it was too late to try. The reservoir of emotions was filled to the brim without him realizing it and the dam was cracking. He could feel his chest shattering along with it and completely embarrassed that he was losing control of himself like this in front of someone else.

Marinette watched the boy she loved fall apart in front of her helplessly but desperate to do something. She knew how painful that pit of darkness could be, and only wished she’d known sooner how far Adrien had sunk into it. It didn’t matter if she knew the cause at the moment or not, Adrien needed her. He needed to know he wasn’t alone.

“I’m right here, Adrien. I’m not going anywhere,” she said and stroked a hand bravely up Adrien’s quivering back. She stepped closer, continuing to stroke his back while squeezing his arm with the other hand. She didn’t know how close she could be, but Adrien hadn’t pushed her away and all she wanted to do was pull him against her and let him cry as long as he needed to. She brushed at his hair tenderly before untangling one of his hands from his bangs.

“You don’t need to hide from me. I won’t tell anyone anything. Nothing leaves this roof. Even if all you want to do is cry, I’m here.” Her voice was firm and Adrien knew he could trust her. The quiet tears sliding down his cheeks froze in the winter air and all he wanted was to feel the warmth Marinette could give him. Slowly he closed the distance between them, his forehead thumping against her shoulder as he squeezed his eyes shut and let the tears cascade down his cheeks; heavy sobs punctuated the silence of the night air.

She didn’t say anything else as her arms wrapped around Adrien’s shoulders and he was grateful for the support as the wave of his emotions finally crashed and broke against the shore. He felt everything and nothing all at once and clutched to Marinette for dear life as the feeling threatened to break him to pieces. He didn’t know how to handle it but Marinette held him together. Warm fingers in his hair. Soft words of comfort in his ear. A steady pillar to brace himself against. He hadn’t had any of those things after his mother disappeared and had forgotten what it felt like for someone to be there without any expectations from him.

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there before the pain eased from his chest and the tears slowed down. The fireworks had ended long ago and his fingers were frozen. He was sure Marinette must have been cold as ice but she didn’t complain. She only brushed at his damp cheek with a handkerchief (self monogrammed, he noticed), and helped him sit down to catch his breath and steady his shaking limbs. Her touch had lessened and Adrien almost wanted to ask her to hold his hand again, if only for the tie to the here-and-now.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffled quietly, “I didn’t know I would get like this.”

“Adrien…” she started softly, trying to decide if it was better to pry or leave things alone. Adrien decided to save her the struggle.

“My mom… disappeared one year ago today.” he admitted quietly, surprised at the weight removed from his chest simply by speaking those words. They’d been as heavy as lead on his tongue. He’d hardly spoken about it since. He’d never been given the chance and he felt awkward now that he did, but the dam had shattered and his head was fuzzy from the rush of it.

“I didn’t know it was today. I’m so sorry.”

“My dad doesn’t talk about it. I haven’t even seen him since Christmas!” Adrien growled, surprising himself by the sudden burst of anger. “He thinks by not talking about it it will make it seem like she never disappeared but… but it doesn’t. It makes it worse. He’s never there. She left and nothing’s been right since. I just miss her so much. Every day. This time last year we were together. We watched the fireworks together. She hugged me.” Adrien sniffled and wiped at his eyes again. He pulled his knees to his chest, feeling so small and helpless.

Marinette shifted closer, brushing their shoulders together and waiting for Adrien to add any more to the story. It was clear these feelings had only peaked because of the anniversary, but had been brewing behind his warm facade for a while. She didn’t have words to make him feel better and she knew it. There wasn’t any magic word or phrase. Adrien didn’t need her to tell him it would ‘get better’. None of that mattered so she kept close instead.

Adrien felt the slight shiver from the girl next to him and straightened up, leaning closer to her and enjoying the comfort. He knew they should go inside, but he was a mess still and didn’t want to face the crowd asking what happened. He was afraid to be that vulnerable to so many people at once. Even speaking to Marinette the emotions felt too raw and painful and he was thankful for the silent support. He didn’t think he could handle any real conversation about it. Not yet. But there was something left he felt compelled to ask.

“You said… you’ve felt alone like this before?” he ventured carefully, eyeing Marinette and feeling strangely like it was something he shouldn’t ask. It was hard to believe the bright, energetic girl he knew could ever have gotten so low.

“Nothing leaves this roof, right?” she asked with a curious glance to Adrien who nodded solemnly. She sighed and looked back at her hands.

“I haven’t even told Alya,” she started, feeling exposed but like she had to share after prying herself. “I think it was at its worst last year. I’ve always been shy and clumsy. I didn’t make many real friends before Alya. I never felt part of it all. I couldn’t find a way to connect to anyone. It all felt so fake and like no one really needed me there or wanted me there and all I could do was smile and pretend everything was fine.” she sighed and concentrated on a snowflake as it drifted down and melted on her hand.

“It felt like I had no one. Sometimes I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t breath. It felt like there was a crushing darkness pressing down on me and I couldn’t show it. And then it just got worse knowing that I only had myself to blame for it.”

“I had no idea. You’re so happy all the time.” Adrien blinked and Marinette smiled wryly.

“I tried so hard to change that this year. I needed to change it and no one could do it but me. And then I met Alya and some…” she paused to smile to herself, “Some miraculous things changed in my life and the clouds finally started to part.” Marinette took a breath and finally looked back up at Adrien kindly.

“So I know what it’s like to feel alone, but you have friends now. We’re all here to help you and listen when you feel like you can’t take it anymore. We care about you. If you’re sad or angry or happy, you can tell us. Always. We might not understand how much it hurts, but if we can make it even a little bit easier, that’s enough. It’s a moment you’re not alone. And trust me, it helps so much when you finally let people in.”

For the first time that night Adrien didn’t feel alone. He wasn’t alone in his feelings, and he wasn’t by himself. He knew he could talk to his friends, but somehow he hadn’t been able to. He still didn’t think he could open up like this to Nino or Alya, but Marinette was different. Maybe because they were so alike. Maybe that was why he felt so at ease around her? He smiled and took her hand into his, trying to warm it up.

“Thank you, Marinette. I really needed to hear that tonight.” He smiled sadly and they sat in silence a moment as the snow started drifting down more heavily and the chill in the air sharpened.  

“I guess we should go back inside. You’re going to get sick,” he finally said, squeezing Marinette’s frozen fingers for emphasis.

“Me? I think you’re shivering more,” she giggled and stood up, blushing brightly as Adrien didn’t let go of her hand. She turned towards the door but a gentle tug pulled her back.

“Marinette?” Adrien started, stopped, then looked up from his feet and tried again, “You know you’re not alone anymore either, right? Not just Alya, you have me, too. And Nino. You’re not just smiling anymore, are you?” he asked and Marinette smiled brightly, shaking her head.

“No. It’s real now. Sometimes they come back, but my dark clouds passed. Your’s will too, eventually.”

They made their way back down the stairwell quietly. The heaviness that had settled around them earlier had lifted completely. Adrien felt so much lighter, even if the pain of knowing his mother was gone still lingered. If he couldn’t have his father’s comfort, at least he could have his friends. When they opened Alya’s door the rest of their classmates had left already. Alya and Nino were the only ones sitting on the couch waiting for them.

“Dude! Where did you go?”

“Seriously, Marinette! We were worried. You were gone for like, an hour. You left your phones. We couldn’t find you,” Alya glared at her friends, then saw how red Adrien’s eyes were. Adrien caught her stare and stiffened, rubbing at his eyes and trying to look away too late.  Anger forgotten she cast a wide-eyed glance between the two and then Nino who also hadn’t missed the obvious signs that Adrien had been crying.

“Hey, what happened? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m–” Adrien stopped and shook his head. “No, I really wasn’t. But I’m better now. It’s just the anniversary of the day… my mom…”

Nino didn’t need Adrien to finish but before Adrien could look up his friend had him in a tight hug.

“Why didn’t you say something? I knew something was up today, but I had no idea,” He pulled back and Adrien smiled. “I’m here for you, man. Any time. That’s what best buds are for, right?”

“Right. Thanks. Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Oh and uh, by the way,” Nino grinned and pointed at the doorway above Adrien And Marinette. A bundle of Mistletoe hung from the frame and the pair blushed. Alya grinned smartly and crossed her arms.

“C’mon. It’s tradition. And you’ve been standing there for 5 minutes!”

“N-no! It’s ok! You don’t have to! I mean if you want… but… no! I— Alya!” Marinette waved frantically but stood stock still when a gentle pair of lips pressed lightly against hers. Her brain stopped working as she looked into the red-tinged eyes of the boy she’d held moments ago. He pulled away and smiled shyly, scratching his neck as he looked away.

“Happy New Year, Marinette.”

“H-Ha-Happy New Y-Year, Adrien.”

#miraculous ladybug #adrientte #hurt/comfort #fanfiction

[chris--dixon]

why not? | chelix & niam

C // N: Noah was pumped for tonight. Ever since his quite recent break up, he'd learned to love going out and getting drunk. Although that didn't happen as much as he would've hoped. His mother could be a pain in the ass at times, way too overcaring and it's gotten even worse since said break up. She was out of town until tomorrow afternoon though, and his father didn't seem to mind much as long as he was able to work in his home office in peace. They had pre-drinks at a bar close to Why Not, the drinks were cheap and it was a good place to start the night. Noah was already pretty tipsy and he didn't notice that until they stood in the queque to get inside the club; he was good at not letting it sho. It was almost their turn to show their IDs. "Okay, okay, the following is going to happen. You'll let me do the talking." He looked between his best friend and his potential hookup of the night, "I know Kirk, he's a friend of a friend," he explained, shrugging, "and he's going to let us pass, not even a single worry there," Noah's attention was suddenly on boys their age that got sent home, but he quickly regained his composure and shook Liam by the shoulder. "I can't believe you've never been here before. It's like we're taking your virginity or something. Your Why Not virginity."

F // L: Felix had made sure not to hold back on drinks at the bar they'd gone to before, since prices at Why Not were nothing short of ridiculous. He hated having to explain to his parents where his allowance for this month had gone so quick. So he was positively buzzed, cheeks warm despite the icy wind and a giddy smile plastered on his face. Liam had turned out to not be so bad, though Felix still felt a pang of jealousy at the two of them and how easy Noah seemed to have it with boys. Felix really was beginning to wonder whether it was him or everyone else. He rolled his eyes good naturedly at Noah's explanations, unsure whether he may have been boasting a little for Liam's sake, but he decided not to call him out on it. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. I'm shutting up," he agreed with him, rubbing his hands together against the cold and pointedly not looking at the way Liam had his arm around Noah.

F // L: Liam, in the meantime, was watching Noah closely as he laid out the plan for the night as it seemed mostly directed at him anyway, an amused smirk on his face. He nodded along at all the right places, even though he didn't have too many doubts that it would work. From what Felix and Noah had been telling him over pre drinks, they'd been to Why Not quite a few times already, so he figured there were some prior connections. It was nice to see Noah in a different environment, one that he felt was fully his element, his best friend in tow. "Got it, boss," he told him in a put on deep voice, kind of endeared at the way the other boy could go on a tangent which served a little bit to make him seem like the one worrying. He wrapped an arm around Noah's back loosely, resting a hand on his hip and raised his eyebrows a little at his last statement. "I was gonna say, might be a bit late for that," he said with a grin. "But I'm honored to be losing it to the two of you," he said, this time with a playful glance directed at Felix as well, not wanting to seem like all his attention was solely on Noah – even though it kind of was. "Met you pretty soon after moving here, though, didn't have a reason to find this place."

C // N: "Aww," Noah practically cooed, hiding his face in Liam's neck at the last comment, which must've looked pretty awkward seeing as Noah was so much taller than Liam, "Isn't he cute?" he asked Felix once he was in his original position, taking Liam's face into his hands to squeeze his cheeks, his lips forming a pout. Maybe he was a bit more than just tipsy. The queque started to dissolve and then suddenly, it was already their turn. "Kirk!" Noah greeted enthusiastically, letting go of Liam to hug Kirk, a man in his mid-forties. He might've seemed rough at first sight with his tattoos and bald head, but he was the softest person you'd ever meet.

F // L: Felix couldn't help the doubtful look that passed over his expression for a moment at their interaction, but quickly smiled when Noah turned to look at him. He just wasn't sure if he should quite buy the whole lovey dovey thing, but that may have been bitter jealousy talking. "Adorable," Felix purred back mockingly, blowing a kiss Noah's way after to let him know he wasn't serious. He breathed a laugh at Noah's enthusiastic greeting of Kirk, leaning in to Liam a little to stage whisper, "He's doing that to make it seem like people actually like him in front of you."

F // L: Liam pressed his lips together at the compliment, face forming into content. "That's me," he said with a shrug to Felix, very quickly having his attention pulled back to Noah who was squeezing his face currently. He laughed, patting Noah's hip lightly to let him know he could let go again and giving him a light push to get moving, since he hadn't seemed to have realised it was their turn already. He chuckled at Felix's comment, watching the interaction with a quirked eyebrow. "I feel like he doesn''t have to do much to make it seem that way," he stage whispered back, noting the way this Kirk person's face split into a friendly grin at seeing Noah.

C // N: "Hey kid," Kirk laughed deeply as he returned Noah's hug, suddenly lifting the teenage boy off the ground which caused a sound of surprise to escape Noah's lips, followed by laughter. That was quite a sight. Once down on the ground, Noah adjusted his shirt and mastered the small talk, simple things like how he's been, how the club is doing tonight, if there will be a lot of people coming, what kind of music they're playing, etc. etc.. ".. it's us three tonight," Noah said, waving Felix and Liam closer, immediately putting an arm around the latter. "Felix. Doing alright?" he greeted the second familiar face once they made their way closer. He eyed Liam a little longer, "I don't think I've seen you around before. Age?" Noah, before Liam could even answer, chimed in, "Pf, Kirk. He belongs with me. He's new in town and I want to show him what a good party is," he looked at Liam for a second, beaming at him before looking back at Kirk, "that's cool, right? We won't cause any trouble, promise." He put one hand on his chest and his other up in the air as if that meant it couldn't be broken.

F // L: Felix had made half hearted small talk with Liam himself while Noah was chatting to Kirk, answering all his questions but rarely asking any back, as he stayed focused on trying to make out what Noah was saying. He kind of felt like he was being shown up a little, so he couldn't wait to get inside, get a few more drinks and let inhibitions loose a little more. He didn't hesitate stepping forward when Noah told them to, giving Kirk a smile. "Yah, s'alright, thanks," he answered easily, glad to have been acknowledged by name now too. "Bit chilly out here," he said with a grin, hinting at the fact that Kirk should let them in soon.

F // L: Liam was about to answer Kirk, reply on the top of his tongue, but Noah was quick to cut him off. He raised his hands a little, as if to say 'You've heard the man, nothing to add' before putting his arm around Noah again as well. "I've heard it's the very best, after all," he said easily. He watched Noah scout's honor promise to Kirk that they wouldn't cause them any trouble, a fondly amused smile creeping onto his lips before he nodded in agreement quickly. Noah had said to let him to the talking however, so he decided to bite back on another comment – bouncers were a particular way about people they didn't know sometimes after all.

C // N: Kirk looked back and forth between the three underaged boys until he eventually sighed and stepped aside to let the boys pass. Noah's eyes sparkled as he quickly passed the bouncer, "You're the best, Kirk! I owe you!" which the said only fondly rolled his eyes at as if to say, 'yeah, yeah, I know, get in now before I'll change my mind'. Muffled electronic music was heard, reminding him just how ready he was for tonight. He turned around to make sure his friends were following him inside, he waited until they caught up. "Anyone else got something for the cloakroom?" Noah asked as he took his coat off.

F // L: As soon as he stepped into the dark interior of the club, music playing a little more pronounced already, Felix felt his mood lift – not that it had been particularly down before. "Fuck, yeeeeees," he exclaimed happily, accidentally elbowing someone in the stomach as they were passing them, mumbling out a quick, "Oh, sorry," and turning a little red. "I'm so ready now," he said, once turned back to his friends, and began shrugging off his own coat. "Let's hope queue's not too bad tonight."

F // L: Liam took off his own jacket, throwing it over his arm before he held his hand out for Noah's with raised eyebrows. "Want me to get those taken care of?"

C // N: Noah raised his eyebrows at Liam, "Are you sure?" he asked, slowly putting the coat into Liam's hands. He wouldn't mind some alone time with Felix before going inside, if he was being honest, so the offer was hard to decline.

F // L: Liam smiled, closing his eyes briefly as he nodded. "I'm absolutely sure." He grabbed Noah's coat from him the rest of the way and threw it over his own, turning to Felix after. "Come on, yours too. I'll find you guys inside," he directed the last bit at Noah again, followed by a wink, before he turned to queue up.

F // L: Felix watched with raised eyebrows, admittedly a little surprised before he handed Liam his coat easily. "Oh cool, thanks, man. See you in a sec." He rather unceremoniously shoved Noah forward. "Let's get fuuucked, tonight."

C // N: Noah gave Liam a thankful smile and he had no idea if it was the alcohol or not, but he suddenly felt like smootching him right then and there. He didn't as Felix shoved him towards the entrance. "See you inside!" Noah said and looked over his shoulder while being shoved by his best friend, holding his thumb up at Liam until Felix and him disappeared into the club. Music immediately filled his ears, men and drag queens dancing, chatting, drinking; simply having a good time and Noah loved it. The energy of it. "I'm so ready to get shitfaced." Noah admitted, getting on his tiptoes to get an overview. "Bar?" Noah almost yelled over the music.

F // L: Felix huffed a little at Noah's antics, actually reaching up to turn his face to where they were going. "Chillax, man, you'll see him again in just a moment." Once inside, Felix's face split into a wide grin until he spotted the couple that was rather heavily making out right next to them. His expression turned slightly disgruntled when he noticed they practically had their dicks out as well and he quickly nodded at Noah. "Yeah, and let's make it quick. I don't know whether you can get Crabs from just watching but I'd rather not find out," he joked with a jerk of his head in their direction, before pushing Noah into the crowd once more.

C // N: "Aye, aye, no need for pushing!" Noah protested with a grin, but he didn't make any move to stop Felix either. They made their way over to the bar, dodging dancing figures on the way. Once they reached their destination, Noah leaned over the counter, his elbows propped up ontop of it while his hands where clasped into one another. He saw the bartender and quickly waved him over - he didn't seem to see it though. "So, what do you think?" he asked nonchalantly, obviously referencing to Liam. He kept trying to get the bartenders attention.

F // L: Felix joined Noah at the bar, propping one elbow on it so his body was facing Noah's entirely, bus his eyes scanning around the room. At Noah's question, Felix' eyes snapped back to him and for a moment he was confused about the question. It seemed like an oddly worded way to ask him what he wanted to drink until he saw the way Noah was trying to extra hard to seem non-invested and it clicked. He shrugged. "Yeah, he seems nice enough I suppose. You reckon the nice guy is a facade?" He asked with a smirk, though he felt a little bad about the comment when he remembered their little fight from Wednesday. "No, but he's chill, I guess."

C // N: Noah finally caught the bartender's attention who gave a sign that he noticed them and will be with them in a second. Noah turned his head to look at Felix but rolled his eyes with a smile, he took with humor this time, not wanting a repetition of Wednesday's events. "You're really resentful, huh?" he half-joked, but let it go. "We're going to find you someone hot tonight, don't worry," he said, patting Felix on the back before telling the bartender, who made their way over already, his order.

F // L: "I'm /not/ resentful, I just think.. I'm looking out," he finished, though he was glad that Noah hadn't seemed offended by his answer. He didn't know what exactly made him so negative towards the whole Liam/Noah development and he was kinda mad at himself that it made him seem so bitter. Felix looked around the club doubtfully at Noah's comment, though the effect was lost when he realised that Noah was busy ordering a drink. "Hah, you'll probably be off ghosting me within ten minutes anyway, so I'll find myself someone hot."

C // N: Noah feigned hurt, his voice suddenly getting two octaves higher, "Excuse me," he said in exactly that tone, "I think the fuck not. It hurts me to know that's what you think of me," he said with a shake of his head, although he knew that Felix was probably right. Maybe not in ten minutes, but definitely at one point or another, "Twenty minutes," he joked, pushing Felix. "Are you not gonna order anything?"

F // L: Felix snorted, mimicking Noah's talking with his hand like he didn't believe a word that was coming out his mouth. "It's the reputation you've earned for yourself. If the shoe fits.." He laughed and tried to defend against the push that he saw was coming, swatting at Noah's hands. "Fuck off. Vodka Soda, please" he directed the last part at the bartender, a little louder.

F // L: Liam had finally gotten rid of their coats and made his way through the crowd. He suspected the other two at the bar where he found them quickly. Noah's back was turned to him, so he took the opportunity to come up behind him and surprise him by wrapping his arms around his middle. "Now I wanna know about this reputation," he threw in, having caught the last bit of their conversation but not waiting for an answer. "Same thing please," he told the bartender as he leaned forward a little, poiting at Noah with one hand, the other still firmly wrapped around the boy, before getting out his wallet to pay.

C // N: Noah was startled when he suddenly felt a pair of arms around his torso, but upon hearing the familiar voice, a grin formed on his lips, exposing his dimples. He briefly turned his head to look at him, grin still in place when he put his hand over Liam's. "Hey, that was quick," he stated matter of factly, "We were looking forward to starting the party without you," he joked as he watched the bartender mix their drinks. When Liam pulled away, Noah noticed from the corner of his eye, that Liam had obviously planned to pay. Noah was quick to put his hand over Liam's wallet and shoved it away, "Nah, I'll pay. You paid for the cloackroom."

F // L: "Oh, I bet you were. Arrived just in time, then," Liam joked back with a grin that mirrored Noah's. He really hadn't expected whatever this was when he'd swiped him on Tinder those few weeks back. He raised his eyebrows when Noah said he'd pay, lips pursed in a smirk. "Yeah, and that cost me exactly 2 dollars, because I'm a bit of a con artist," he said in a conspiratorial tone, like he was telling him a shocking secret. "I'll get these since I'm technically earning my own money, you can get the next round." Without waiting for an answer he pulled his Visa from his wallet and held it out to the bartender, the "Card, please" following a bit late. "My pleasure," he directed back at Noah with a wink.

C // N: Noah rolled his eyes at Liam, although his expression was fond. "Thanks," he said then, briefly putting his hand on Liam's back to give him a gentle squeeze. Noah couldn't help but notice how hot Liam looked and how shamelessly nice he was. He inwardly cringed at the fact that he at first thought his niceness was a turn off (he guessed that may be the wrong word; it was no turn off, it just wasn't what he was looking for). He took his beverage off the bar and held it up to the air, eying his friends with a big grin. "To tonight?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

F // L: Felix watched the interaction between Noah and his new boy with an air of cool superiority, eyebrows raised a little questioningly at the realness of the situation. He made a few gagging noises that luckily went unnoticed as the both of them were /beautifully/ caught up in one another. Barf. He was glad when the bartender finally brought their drinks and his attention was pulled from the two of them. He took a sip before he caught Noah's gesture, nearly spitting the drink all over his front in an attempt to make it seem like he hadn't forgotten to join in on the toast. "Hell yeah, to tonight," he exclaimed happily, clinking their glasses together. "And to the semester being almost done," Felix added gratefully, closing his eyes and drawing a cross over his chest.

F // L: Liam raised his glass with Noah, eyes trained on his face the entire time. "To tonight and losing my virginity a second time," he carried on the joke from earlier, touching his glass to Noah's and Felix' though he remained focused on Noah. "Gotta look me in the eyes while we clink glasses," he said a bit quieter, more privately to Noah, a playful glint in his eyes. "You know what they say happens if you don't."

C // N: Noah didn't comment on Felix' cheating on their toast and laughed when they clinked their glasses together, "And to the semester being almost done," he repeated with a snort and looked Felix in the eye, pointing at him, "We still need to talk about our plans for New Years, by the way," he reminded on a side note although his tone gave away it was not a thing that will be talked about now or tonight, but rather tomorrow or whenever but it should be talked about soon. He then turned his attention to Liam and chuckled, making sure to look deeply into Liam's eyes before he withdrew the glass to take a long sip, emerald eyes never leaving his. "Wouldn't dare risking it," he said in a low voice after removing the glass from his lips, so only Liam was able to hear it. Noah got even more excited about tonight then, because for some reason Liam's comment sounded like a promise he was looking forward to. "Let's go mingle?" he asked, moving his head into the dancefloor's direction.

F // L: Felix waved off Noah's request to talk about New Year's while taking a long sip of his drink, ready to get just a little more drunk. He'd sobered up a bit and was ready to get back into a hazy state of contentment so when he brought the glass away from his lips again, half of his drink had already vanished. He eyed it suspiciously, holding it up against the light to see the contents better before shaking his head with a laugh. "I swear they just keeping adding more ice and less.. drink," Felix joked with an innocent grin, shrugging. "But yeah, we do. Still not sure if the family has plans that will––," he stopped himself when he realised Noah's attention already wasn't on him anymore, sighing with a slight roll of his eyes. "Just gonna continue talking to myself then, best conversation partner anyway," he mumbled to himself, taking another sip and only looking up again at Noah's proposal to get lost in the crowd. "Yeah, yes. Ready, let's go," he urged, beginning to make his way through the people and just hoping those two would follow.

F // L: Liam laughed heartily at Noah's answer, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Let's," he agreed, jerking his head in Felix' direction as he had begun taking the lead and placing a hand on the small of Noah's back, his thumb tracing light circles there.

C // N: Noah followed Felix into the mass of dancing bodies, a smile playing on his lips as he felt Liam's touch on his back - he was drunk and really felt like leaning into the touch; he didn't. In motion, he lazily twisted his free arm to his backside in order to stop Liam, his hand blindly fumbling with the other's arm until he found what he was looking for; his hand. He laced their fingers together. guiding them. Noah's eyes were focused on Felix's mop of blonde hair as he tried to swerve the obstacles until he saw a familiar face a few metres away, standing a little beyond the dancefloor with a group of men their age. Noah immediately tried to catch up with Felix, "Felix!!" he yelled over the music, hoping his best friend would come to a halt.

F // L: Felix had no mind for casualties as he made his way through the crowded space, mumbling 'Sorry's every now and then to make up for shoving his way past people. His head whipped around when he heard Noah's voice call his name, a confused expression on his face as he searched his best friend's eyes for what he was trying to tell him. "What?" He yelled back, motioning with his arms for emphasis. "Let's go over there," he added, pointing to the direction he'd been going in, wondering why that apparently didn't fit into Noah's plan.

C // N: Noah walked up to Felix, momentarily letting go of Liam's hand to put it on the blonde's shoulder as he leaned in to yell into his ear, "Isn't that Mr. Dixon?" he asked and pulled away, jerking his head in the direction he saw their teacher.

F // L: Felix leaned into the other boy to not miss a word of what he was saying, his head snapping back when he registered what Noah was saying. "Where?" Was the first thing that left his mouth, eyes immediately scanning around them before they landed on him. Felix' heart did a little jump at the realisation, eyes going wide. "It is!" He said a little too excitedly, eyes still fixed on their teacher and his free hand almost unconsciously coming up to run through his hair. "We should say hi," he added with a grin.

F // L: Liam caught up to the two, following both their lines of sight and as if on instinct, possibly due to the alcohol, brought his arm around Noah's back again. Always touching somewhere. "Who are we gossiping about?" He asked cluelessly, because both their faces were a little priceless.

C // N: Noah had to laugh. The kind of laugh where he threw his head back, slapped the palms of his hands together and his eyes formed into slits. It took him a while to regain his composure and pulled Felix in by the shoulder, "And then what? You think he's going to let you blow him on the toilets?" he laughed once more before turning to Liam, "Our teacher, that little Felix here," he shook Felix, "has the hots for, is right over there and Felix wants to say hi." He bit on his lip to refrain from laughing again.

F // L: Felix expression changed into a mockingly offended one and he shoved Noah off of him, a bit more harshly that just jokingly would've needed. "Oh, fuck off. I'm saying we should say hi, not drop on my knees in front of him," he defended himself, though the thought made him go a little red in the cheeks which luckily remained unseen due to the low light. "Can you fuck off?" He said again, though with a light laugh caught in his throat himself. "I just think it's the polite thing to do. Plus, you two can't tell me he isn't looking fine," he challenged mostly Noah, eyebrows raised with a light shake of his head.

F // L: "Oh, shit, seriously?" Liam laughed at the piece of information, trying to make out which of the men in that general direction was their teacher. "Your teacher's here? That's weird, man. Have to agree that saying hi might not be the smartest move," he supplied, holding his hands up as if to say 'Just saying'.

C // N: Noah laughed and slapped at Felix' hands when he pushed him off, all while making sure he isn't spilling his drink. "The polite thing to do," he snorted, looking at Liam as if to say, 'you hear that?', his expression amused when he watched Felix explain his motives. Noah looked at Mr. Dixon and had to agree; their teacher was looking all kinds of fine tonight but he still did not feel the desire to walk up to him and say hi. Taking a short sip of his drink, "Hey, you go ahead," he suggested, "I don't want to risk getting in trouble because you couldn't keep it in your pants," he shrugged with a grin, "Mr. D is a cool teacher but still a teacher after all."

F // L: Felix cocked his eyebrows at Noah, a satisfied smirk on his lips, and shrugged one shoulder at him. "I might just, doubt I'll get in trouble seeing as I'm favorite," he shot back, though his tone made it clear he was, possibly, joking. Though as he kept his eyes on Mr. Dixon, laughing and talking with his group of friends, he suddenly felt weirdly nervous and like he wouldn't be able to pull off saying hi in a cool manner at all. He took a sip of his drink, eyes still fixed on his group. Not that much could go wrong. He was a bit aloof on a normal day, he'd had a bit to drink and courage was easier to come by that way. "I'm gonna," he decided, though he made no move to actually go up to him, instead pulled Noah by his sleeve into his general direction. Maybe Mr. Dixon would even be the one to notice him and he could pretend he hadn't before. He positioned their little group in good view of Mr. Dixon, so he was the one facing him but looked at Noah this time. "Let's dance."

C // N: Noah wetted his lips and gave Felix a crooked grin when he pulled him closer, amused by the scene his best friend was performing. Noah thought the crush Felix had on Mr. D was absolutely irrational and far from reality, but he couldn't help but find it all a bit adorable. He had no idea how to ever break it to him, but that was a problem for another time and definitely another place. Instead, Noah shrugged at Liam and started to sway his hips to the music, taking a long sip from his vodka orange, desperate to be even more drunk than he was already feeling. He noted the music was really good tonight.

C // N: Christopher didn't go out clubbing every weekend. He didn't go out clubbing every second weekend either. He went out clubbing whenever he felt like it which wasn't that often to be fair. His group of friends, some of which he went to college with, were the complete opposite, pretty much out and about at any chance they got. He did join them on pub and bar nights but he wasn't too much of a fan of clubs. Tonight was different though, he was looking forward to tonight, letting loose again after months and the fact that it was his best bud's birthday was a pretty sick occasion to go all the way out. He decided to wear a black shirt, buttoned down almost all the way down to his chest, exposing the hairs he had there. The black skinny jeans fit his legs like wax, the belt matching the choice of clothing perfectly. His hair didn't do anything different to his hair, but he decided not to shave this morning, which already made all the big difference. It wasn't his mission to meet anyone tonight, but definitely wouldn't hurt if he did. He, as well as the rest of his friends were already pretty intoxicated as they listened to Brian spill a funny story, making everyone crack laughs. Christopher laughed so hard, he felt tears form in his eyes and he had to bring his fist up to refrain himself from bursting out laughing even more. "Honestly, it was ridicccc," Brian commented at the end of it, and Christopher tried to come down from his high, sighing. "I don't think I could've kept a straight face," Malcolm, another friend of Christopher's chirped, also trying to come down from laughing. "I'm going to get myself another gin tonic. Anyone else?" Christopher asked then, making use of the pause. They were a total of five people and all of them all of a sudden wanted a drink too. Christopher inwardly regretted asking and rolled his eyes. "Well. Someone's gotta come with. Can't carry five glasses, I'm afraid," he admitted, although that was only half of the truth. He didn't really wanna go to the bar by himself. "I'll accompany you," Brian said with a wink. Thanking him, Christopher and Brian made their way to the bar. He noticed Noah first when he was about to pass the group of three; tall, tall Noah in a while shirt that almost glowed in the light. And where Noah was, there was also... ah, there he was. Christopher suddenly felt a little proud with Brian in tow, and it was definitely the alcohol, but he suddenly thought it was a good idea. "Felix! Noah!" he exclaimed with a wide smile, excited and most definitely drunk, hands in the air as if he was about to... hug them? He didn't, instead he clapped on their backs. "What are you doing here?" he asked, but didn't give them time to reply seeing he called after his friend, "Brian, hey!"

F // L: Felix started dancing along to the music, alternating between taking sips of his drink which way too soon was finished and glancing up at Mr. Dixon and his group of friends. His eyes widened a little when he looked up one time and saw that Mr. Dixon had, in fact, moved and looked very much like he was heading their way. “He’s coming our way,” he hissed at Noah, pulling a face and quickly throwing back the last of drink – he was positively buzzing again and he refused to admit to himself that he felt a shiver of nervousness run down his arms right to his finger tips. He was getting ready for Mr. Dixon to pass them without so much as a glance, but was surprised when recognition passed over his pretty, pretty face and he actually addressed them. “Aha, Mr. D, no way,” he brought out quickly with a laugh lacing his tone, trying to sound like it was an absolute surprise to see him here. He was acutely aware of the man’s hand on his back and flexed his back muscles, of which he didn’t have many. His eyes followed Mr. Dixon’s line of vision for a moment, before he was captivated by his pretty features again, eyes undoubtedly dropping down his chest for a moment.

F // L: Liam watched with a slight crease between his eyebrows but the corner of his lip pulled up, not quite sure whether he was utterly amused or worried. Undoubtedly this was this teacher they'd been talking about and Noah had said he was a cool teacher, but nonetheless he didn't quite know what to make of it. He caught Noah's eye and silently mouthed to him whether he was okay, looping his finger through one of the other boy's belt loops – ready to pull him closer should he show any sign of discomfort.

C // N: Noah shook his head at Felix's antics, continuing to dance to the music and taking sips from his drink, spacing out in his own world a little where it's just him, the alcohol and the beat of the music. He was pulled out of said world when he suddenly felt a hand on his back for a moment, eyes widening a little and almost choking on his drink. He got into a little coughing fit, before swallowing, his face grimaced in discomfort. He quickly put on a smile though, surprised and well, amused by his teacher's behaviour. It was unlike him to say the least. He couldn't wait to tell Dom about it. Noah looked at Liam, biting back a grin when Felix so openly gawked at their teacher. He didn't miss Liam's asking look and slightly nodded his head to tell him that yes, he was okay, no need to worry.

#para #p: chelix #idk what to tag this but enjoy lmao #also read this ok #i'm dying

[thebargainingchip]

Blood Colors: Chapter 6

Masterlist

Pairing: Roan x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Descriptive Violence

Previous Chapter

Chapter 1

The day had finally arrived. Today was the opening to the tournament and after a week and half of being mostly in your room, you were glad for the fresh air. Behind the village was a half-wrecked stadium that Azgeda used as an arena. The stands were packed with the people from all villages, the main event between Luktri, Stromclud and the Eastern Village would take place on the third day and final day. The first two days would be filled with festivities, a feast -as if people weren't starving enough-, some fights showcasing the bravest warriors challenging others and public scaring ceremonies for those who have come of age.

You were dressed in a simple long sleeved shirt covered by a fur jacket with pants and a pair of combat boots that was more than enough to keep you warm. You had wrapped your hands with bandages and pulled on a shirt that hooked over your thumb to stop the ache that you felt in your hands when it got this cold. The wounds were healing very slowly, the pink lines that now crossed your palms were scabbed over but you still struggled to grip things tightly in your left hand, your dominant hand.

Roan was seated on the throne, Echo standing on one side, war paint on her face and you on the other side. The first fight that had commenced was between one of the war generals on Roan's council and his second. Although this was a fight to the death, not all challenges this weakened would be. The fight was won in short victory as the younger, the second finally pushed his sword through the chest of his mentor. The crowd burst into cheers, a cry that echoed through everyone's chest. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, sure you weren't really ever sappy about someone dying, it happened, but you weren't used to people's lives being used as entertainment.

The second fight was basically a marriage dispute, husband and wife fighting for dominance. It ended with the woman's sword to the man's throat, this time it rose fewer cheers from the crowd. It was then that a man, stepped into the arena, alone, he came and bowed in front of the King and as he rose you recognised his face. It was the councilman who had challenged you in the meeting about two weeks ago. As if on queue at the thought, his gaze shifted to you. "Ai, Gendru kom Azgeda challenge the one they call Jus Gona." Everyone seemed to freeze at the challenge, except the crowds who slowly started stomping their feet as the request hung in the air. "Challenging my guest means you are challenging me." Roan piped up before you could string words together. "And I-" "I accept." You stepped forward, the foot-stomping silenced and cheers rose.

The door slammed closed behind you, but you stood near the threshold ready for the uproar. In the King's chambers again. "It's what Clarke would do." Is the first thing you say when Roan turns to you, anger on his face, that takes the words out of everyone's mouths in the room. "If you accepted the challenge then you wouldn't exactly have gained the favour of your people, I would have looked weak and if you die then I sure as hell dead too." "She isn't wrong." Echo pointed out, Roan sighed. Oren was also uncharacteristically quiet. "Look it's set for tomorrow afternoon, I have plenty of time to prepare." "You haven't even trained properly with a sword yet." Roan said still resenting the fact that you would be fighting a war general to death. "I can do it." You said firmly. "Fine but you're training with Oren." That was really starting to get old, the orders.

Echo and Roan left to attend the rests of today's events while you made use of the King's empty chambers, which had a large open but private space that you wouldn't find anywhere else. Despite Oren's ironic and impassive nature, he was a natural and brutal fighter, his advances were quick and he gained a lot of ground, a few times you almost found yourself trapped between him and the wall but his defences were easy to get through. Your biggest problem was the fact that your thumbs grip on the sword was to lose to actually keep hold of the hilt. A few times you found yourself having to dodge Oren's attacks as your sword lay on the ground feet away. Your best bet would be to strike hard and fast and not allow your opponent to bring up your defences for too long. "Again." Oren said standing straight, you were good at dodging his attacks even if you were swordless you agility allowing you to escape but if this was a real fight you might tire out before your opponent. You picked up your sword, a little out of breath. "You can't keep losing your sword." "I'm trying." Your hands were burning and bleeding, the bandages had longs since torn and the scabs had been ripped off. "You need to try harder." Still not losing hope even at his reminder you dodged his attack by ducking under his sword and bring your sword up to push it against his throat, but Oren was way ahead of you, kicking you in the side and making you stumbled to the ground as you lost your balance, Barely even hitting the ground you recovered and block his attack, which seems to ring through your hands as the metal connected. You twisted your blade around his until you purposefully drop your sword and grabbed his hand and then his other wrist, kneeing him in the stomach twice then twisting one of his hand behind his back, you kicked his knee out from under him and grabbed your sword and pressed it to his neck before he could recover. "Is that hard enough?" "That's enough for tonight, get some rest."

Despite your hunger you returned to your room, it was already dark outside and you were more tired than anything else.

You're barely awake when Roan bursts into your room, all determined. You sit up raising an eyebrow at him as he paused at the foot of the bed. It's past dawn but he's already dressed and ready for the day. As if a thought sifts through his mind he hesitates unsure. "Oren said that you're not half bad." The exact person which was currently missing, he usually spends the night dosing in the chair but you certainly hadn't heard him come in last night or leave early morning. "Suppose to be a compliment or?" The silence follows after as Roan completely ignores your question. "You're nervous." You state somewhat hesitant to acknowledge it. "The last thing Azgeda needs right now is to go to war and I fear that if you die it would be unavoidable." "Hmm, yeah, I think you're secretly afraid of Lexa kicking your ass again besides my people wouldn't go to war over my death. They basically hate me." "Clarke doesn't hate you." "Clarke doesn't think war is a solution or a good revenge strategy." You pointed out. "It's unnerving how calm you are." "It comes with being a sociopath." You shrug. Roan looks visibly less nervous now after your joke, which was surprising enough. You wouldn't ever describe yourself as having a calming effect on anyone. "Besides if you haven't realised by now, despite Clarke's dislike of my talents, I'm quite good at killing people." "Why do you follow Clarke?" Roan asks, catching you a little off guard, but you know the answer. "Because she has a hell of a lot of a better chance of being right than I do." Roan nods, seeming to accept your answer before he turns around and leaves. The emptiness of the room leaves you to wonder if you really would still trust Clarke like you did before, but she hasn't been wrong yet, not about sending you here. But she also hasn't been right, you haven't really achieved anything but stir up trouble so far. After soaking in the bath, you braid your hair out of your face and then curl up in front of the window until breakfast, snow is lightly falling outside and below people are training. You try to find some part of yourself that is even a little bit nervous or hesitant but you honestly couldn't say you were, this was nothing different from any other day.

Oren finally shows up right as you are about to go get some food, he's quieter than usual but not tense or anything as far as you can tell, just broody. It got to the point where he even ignored you when you asked where he was last night. "What's up with you?" "You are fucked." You stare at him, eyebrows knitted together as you pause spoon in hand. "Thanks for believing in me." You answer before grabbing another spoonful of porridge, just as you try to think where he got that conclusion from he explains: "When you win, then Gendru will die." You pause a little, caught up in his sentence usage for a moment. "What's your point?" "General Gendru is supported by many people, if you kill him, there are some who you might not win over. This means that you will not have eliminated more threats but only created more." "Well, I sure as hell am not going to choose war or my own death." You add. "Besides, why is everyone so stressed about this?" Oren gives you a weird look like you're crazy but you ignore it.

Your weapon is freshly sharpened just before you enter the arena, Echo brings it to you being her ever lovely self, she shoves it into your hands and ends with "I hope he gives you a quick death." You don't reply as she leaves but instead, you turn to Oren. "At least someone is not worried about me." You joke, Oren just shakes his head as you fix the arm guards to sit more securely. You have chosen to go without your bandages fearing they will just be in the way but the wounds still looked angry and inflamed from yesterdays torture and you have no doubt they will be more sensitive. "You can do this." Oren says one last time as the challenge is announced outside and the crowd roars.

"I know." You grin and pat Oren on the shoulder as you run out.

Gendru stands beside you as you both face Roan, he stays silent for a moment longer than necessary but then with the wave of a hand starts the fight, you both draw your swords and face each other.There's a moment where both of you pause, the falling snow drifting to the floor, the crowd silent as they wait. Then just as if it feels like the moment has lasted too long, Gendru launches, his sword swipes are precise and fast as you dodge each one. You realise too late that it was only a distraction as he sweeps your feet out from under you and land hard on your back barely having time to recover before he uses both hands to plummet the sword at you. Heaving yourself out of the way you dodge another sweep of his sword and then catch the back of his calf as your roll to your feet. The crowd oo's as the general sags to his knees. You allow him time to recover because you decided to be nice even when you knew he wouldn't be. He stands and you wonder if you should have gone for his Achilles tendon, that would have slowed him down. This time he waits for you to strike and you do bouncing blows off him even as he blocks, he deflects one blow hard and pushes against his blade until he throws you off balance, you stumble backwards and block his strikes. He' trying to wear you out, but the trick is on him, still, you allow him time to think he is doing something right. He tries the same move as before, using his sword to distract you and using any of his other three limbs to knock you down, but you don't fall for it this time. You grab his fist, effectively blocking his punch just as his sharp blade slides past your cheek. You throw away the act, you're ragged breathing steadying just as you slice across his chest, he stumbles backwards but straightens to come after you again but doesn't have enough time to get past your defences instead having to block your sword. You shift your sword around his and slicing down his hand then punching him in the stomach. The crowd is oo's again as you catch his wrist, his blade now discarded on the ground. He clutches his fingers tightly but you decide to stretch it a little further. Kicking his sword away you allow your opponent time to recover. He gets to his feet, takes a breather or two before he comes at you strong again. He doesn't miss the blade that slices his side as you move past him. He takes off running for his sword and you assess him. He's almost done, he's lost too much blood to not be weak. You let him pick up the sword and turn back again. He blocks your attack, but he isn't fast enough to block the kick to his side, he stumbles but recovers quick with an up slash that you barely have time to jump out of but you're quick to strike again, you use the butt of your blade to knock the sword out of his hand, catching his sword with your right hand. He moves back and raises his neck to avoid his own blade that you hold there as you step forward. You could slide your sword right through his neck or chest between his fourth and fifth rib and he would be dead. But death isn't the worst thing.

"Next time you utter a challenge, think it through, if you can speak that is." You make one slice down his throat in a scew line, he stumbles to his knees from the shock. He clutches his neck, blood slowly trickling through his fingers. "Frag op. (Kill)" The crowd begins to chant. As you turn to them and watch, you could still do it, one last temptation that you're almost transfixed by. "I'm not Azgeda." You cast Gendru's sword aside. You turn to Roan as the crowd falls into an unmatchable silence. "Save him." You pause then add "Or don't." Gendru chokes on the blood that runs into his lungs behind you before you leave the arena. The arena is still in dead silence as you disappear into the hallway leading to outside.

You sheath your sword when you're out in the cold weather again, your hands raw from the fight, the cut on your cheek burns unnecessarily bad as you tuck your hands into your armpits, it feels unwittingly cold as the breeze only lightly blows past you. You keep the castle in sight as you walk through the mostly empty village. The arena is still quiet which must mean that a break has been called. You just wanted a bath right now, you felt so tired all of the sudden. Just as you glance up from where you've scoped the ground, the castle now looming before you, it blurs. The dizzy feeling overwhelms you and makes your head throb. Just had to make it to your room. You climb the steps of the palace a little of balance but manage without stumbling until you reach the top step. Just as you enter the castle a wave of nausea hits you. Something is very, very wrong. You walk at a much more brisker pace and try to listen to your surroundings while the blood rushes through your ears. Just down the hallway, up another flight of stairs and then the first door on the left. Just as you reach the steps you stop, your cheek stings again and you sway on your feet. Through your bleary mind, you piece it all together. It had to be on his sword, on the blade. You see someone move out the corner of your eye but don't stick around long enough to see who it is. Instead, you sprint of the steps taking two, three at a time, on the last step your foot misses its footing and you stumble. Despite your muscles fighting against you, you push yourself up and stumbled down the wall and through the doors of your room.Your guards that are usually posted outside are gone. 

You fall against the desk as you try to reach the chair and then manage to pull yourself upright, though it's agonising. You drag the chair over to the door and barely manage to push the chair underneath the handles but stumble last moment to ground, sliding down against the door, you're cheek resting heavily against the cold wood, someone slams their shoulder into the door and you barely manage to fight off grasping hands before your vision fades and with it your consciousness.

Next Chapter

#roan kom azgeda #king roan #Roan #the 100 #roan x reader #roan fanfiction

[nooneelsecomesclose17]

Until you’re resting here with me (Love Actually AU) - Part 1

I’m incapable of keeping anything on my hard drive without posting...Hopefully I will have it all posted before Christmas :)

He couldn’t believe he was back here. It had been just over ten years, years where he’d been able to push it from his mind and now he was back, partly, no mostly against his will. He had a vague memory of some annoying kid from his brother’s wedding but nothing more than that. It had to be some kind of cosmic joke that he’s ended up getting engaged to Robert’s best friend and the party was being held back in Emmerdale. From what he could see as he pulled the car to a stop, nothing had changed.

He’d changed though. Back then he was a mechanic, sleeping with his brother’s fiance, not much else going for him. Now, he was reasonably successful, even if selling agricultural machinery wasn’t the most glamorous job in the world it paid the bills...and he was in love with his best friend’s fiance. Ok, so maybe not everything had changed.

He wasn’t going to do anything about it, he had grown up that much. If it was anyone else, he might have, but he wouldn’t do that to Luke. He’d been there for him for years. He’d met him not long after he left the village, letting him kip on his sofa for a while until he got himself sorted. He owed him everything, which is really the only reason he was here. If it had been anyone else he would have made an excuse, got out of it somehow but not Luke. Taking a deep breath he gets out of the car, convinces himself it’ll be fine, and heads inside.

The first thing he notices is that the pub has changed. He’d heard of course about the siege a few years before, he’d even called his sister to check on everyone. He wasn’t that heartless. He sees her first, heading through the back, arms full of food platters. She’s grown up, of course, reminds him so much of their Mum. He misses her. They’ve been closer since that phone call, chatting every couple of weeks, texting a lot even if this was the first time they’d seen each other in person for years.

“Alright mate, you made it!” He cringes slightly, had wanted to see the lie of the land before drawing any kind of attention to himself. Then again that’s just impossible with Luke, he’s loud and annoying especially when you don’t want him to be. “Wasn’t sure you’d turn up.”

“Anyone but you, and I wouldn’t, you know that. So, where’s Aaron?”

“He’s here somewhere, hijacked by his family. Listen, about that, would you, in your position as my almost definitely best man, do me a favour?”

“Almost definitely? Well that’s a compliment and a half.”

“Yeah, yeah. There’s probably gonna be speeches and one of Aaron’s lot is meant to be filming it but they’ve been at the bar since it opened so could you, you know be a backup? You know, posterity and that?” Robert can’t help laughing, can only guess how many drinks he’s already had, but he nods, patting him on the back as he spies Vic making her way back into the bar.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to get it all. I’m, er, gonna go talk to Vic.” She’s already seen him, is heading over to him at speed.

It feels good hugging her, he’s missed her. Whatever reasons there were for leaving he’s always regretted leaving her. There’s no peace for a proper chat and he has to promise her that he’ll hang around the following day for it before she’ll let him go. He’s booked into the B&B anyway, against his better judgement, and he promises her breakfast at least. After that he’ll see.

The party is fun, considering, and he watches as Luke and Aaron make their way round the pub, all smiles. He’s not used to seeing Aaron like this, dressed in a smart blue suit, shirt collar open, and he’s having a hard time taking his eyes off him. He has to keep forcing himself to tear his gaze away in case anyone notices. In the end he busies himself filming and taking photos on his phone trying to do as he’d been asked and capture the evening.

He finds himself watching Aaron again, he’s all smiles, laughing and joking with his family and their obvious good natured teasing. He’s not normally like that. There’s more likely to be a frown than a smile. He can’t really pinpoint when he knew he was attracted to him. Luke had introduced them on a night out and for a reason he can’t remember Aaron was in a mood. The first impression hadn’t been great but even then there had been an attraction.

“They seem happy. Aaron’s been smiling a lot more when he’s come back to visit.” He jumps as Vic sits beside him and the phone has to refocus itself. 

“You know him?” He knew Aaron’s family lived here but he himself lived in Leeds, it hadn’t occurred to him that his sister would know him well.

“Yeah, we were good mates until he moved to Leeds, still are I suppose. I hear from him more than you anyway!”

“Alright, I know I’m a terrible brother, no need to rub it in.” She’s joking he knows, at least partly. He could be better of course. She was forever asking him to come back, telling him that Leeds wasn’t far, disappointed to know he had been that close all those years and hadn’t been in touch. He had a lot to make up for, still.

He glances back at the screen of his phone, still videoing. He can tell she’s looking, can see what he’s recording but he can’t make himself stop. He hates himself for it, it’s his best friend for God’s sake but he just can’t help how he feels. “Which one?”

“Hmm?”

“Which one of them is it that you like? I’m not stupid, Robert. You haven’t taken your eyes off them.” She knows he’s bisexual, had for a year or so, had seen a picture on his facebook that he’d been tagged in, kissing some guy from way back and asked him outright. Vic had never been one for subtlety after all. He was glad she knew though, it felt good, even if she did still stick her nose in a bit too much for his tastes.

“What? No! Luke asked me to video the speeches and that.”

“Hmm, well they’re all done and dusted and you’re still filming. So come on...I’m going with Aaron because you’ve known Luke long enough that you’d be over it by now or at least  done something about it.” He just shook his head in disbelief. “Robert! What are you doing?”

“Nothing. I’m doing nothing, alright. So just forget about it.” He looks at her until she nods. “They look happy, don’t they?”

He’d hoped maybe stupidly, that seeing them together again so happy, he’d start to feel less, that somehow his brain would compute that there was no chance for them. If anything it was the opposite, the more he saw him the stronger it was and he had no idea what to do.

*****

“How long?”

“How long what?” He stops, piece of cake halfway to his mouth. Breakfast had ended up being lunch and now they were in the cafe and he’d barely even sat down before she started in on him. He’d hardly slept, too busy thinking about Aaron, wondering what to do.

“You know what. How long have you liked Aaron?” He can’t help the nervous glance around, checking no one is within earshot before he answers her.

“Will you keep your voice down? It’s nothing to do with you.”

“Got a queue of people you can talk to then have you?” He sighs, she’s got this thing about him only having the one really close friend. It doesn’t bother him, if anything he prefers it that way. “You know nothing’s going to happen don’t you?”

“Expert now huh?”

“Aaron’s my mate, like I said, so yes...I am. I don’t want to see you get hurt Rob, or him.”

“I told you, I’m not going to do anything. It’s a stupid...crush if you like, I’ll get over it. I just need to keep my distance until I do.” It’s all he’d thought about, laying awake all night. If he just stayed out of their way, avoided their usual weekly drink then surely this ‘thing’ would fizzle out. The downside to all that was his friendship with Luke might end up damaged by the time he was over it. Then again it’d be destroyed if he did anything else. “Let’s change the subject, yeah?”

*****

He doesn’t see either of them for a few weeks, he’s busy at work and trying to avoid them, the guilt of how he’s feeling beginning to overwhelm him. Then they’re off on holiday, a pre-wedding honeymoon of all things because they want to stay at home for Christmas. It gives him some space, time to think, even if he doesn’t come to any kind of conclusion. He needs to work something out or he’ll lose the best friend he’s probably ever had.

They’re away for two weeks and the pictures on Instagram keep him more updated than he really wants but he can’t bring himself to stop checking, replaying every video of Aaron willing himself to not feel like this anymore, but nothing works. He shoves it to the back of his mind as best he can until his phone rings at work one day.

“Rob, it’s me.”

“You’re back then?” He leans back in his chair, keeping an eye out to make sure his boss was nowhere in sight. The man had been on the warpath recently and Robert wasn’t about the get on the wrong side of him, not even for his friend. “How was the pre-wedding honeymoon thing?”

“Brilliant. Listen, we wanted to have you over for dinner next week, to say thanks. You free Saturday?” He sighed internally, that was the last thing he wanted, spending the whole evening with Aaron, at least not until he got over whatever this was. Not that he’s going to say no, he never has so far, isn’t going to start now, knows it’ll look suspicious.

“Yeah, should be. Haven’t you got better things to be doing than inviting your sad single friend round?” Please say you have, he thought over and over. He didn’t know how he’d get through it.

“Nah, not really.” Comes the teasing reply. “Listen I’ve got Aaron on the other line, he wants to talk to you. Be nice, yeah?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just be less you, yeah?”

“I’m hurt! Go on, I’ve got a couple of minutes before getting back to the exciting world of tractors.” He doodles absently on the diary in front of him while he waits, the two of them obviously having a conversation.

“Robert?”

“Finally. What’s up?” He can’t help sounding fed up, he’s trying so hard to get over himself and having to see and hear from Aaron isn’t helping in the slightest.

“I, er, I’ve got to go and buy my suit, for the wedding. Well, I’m not one for suits and none of my mates are either. Luke suggested I ask you. You might be a big headed prat but even I can tell you’ve got some taste.” He’s panicking because he can think of nothing worse, spending the whole day with Aaron should be a dream come true but not like this, not buying his wedding suit.

“I’m pretty busy, work, you know...is there no one else?”

“If there was do you think I’d be asking you?” He sounds so put out that Robert wants to laugh. “Look, will you help me out or not?” Well he had no choice really did he? It’d look suspicious if he didn’t.

“Fine. It’ll have to be Friday though, only day I’m free.” That gave him three days to think of a way to get out of it because there was no way this wasn’t ending in disaster.

“Don’t sound too enthusiastic will ya. Friday then. I’ll pick you up at your place at 10.”

He agrees and Aaron’s hung up within seconds, leaving Robert just staring at the phone, pretty much regretting getting out of bed.

#robron fanfic #love actually au #indulge me it's christmas

[icharchivist]

@ghostwriter24 replied to “@ghostwriter24 replied to “Looking at the last text posts my queue...”

There's a popular argument that, "If you only watch 2011 version, you shouldn't be able to ship Leopika." (this was paraphrased, but that's the gist) because of the way their relationship was portrayed. They have very little screentime together, as compared to Killugon, and the majority of it, they are fighting. But for some reason, I started shipping them in the 2011 version, for the reasons listed above.   

You're right, at first they were at odds and were really cutthroat with each other. Their personalities clashed real hard, but afterwards, there was this sense of chaotically friendly friendship where I get the, "rival" part from. Like, when they're making sushi and Menchi says Kurapika's is no better than Leorio's, and Kurapika looks like he's just seen hell. (Lol)

I recognize now, after watching the whole series (both of them)., the movies, and filling in the holes after the Chairman Election arc in the Manga, there's That their relationship/friendship is based off of caring for and worrying about the other (much more on Leorio's side, surprisingly...or not...KURAPIKA ANSWER YOUR PHONE!!!) But the core of my love for this ship is "I argue with you all the time, but when push comes to shove, I am on your side."

Also, the 1999 version is a blessing. I love it so much. (The dub version is actually pretty good) There are a lot of filler episodes, but all the better for me because they're all chalk full of Leopika. And it stops just after York New City arc. They show how Kurapika gets his nen, and it's mesmerizing and beautiful and haunting all at once.

Huuuh in one way I see where people are coming from about the 2011 vers, but on the other well - I started shipping it when I started rewatching the show a bit before reading the manga and that therefore it hits me how much development they had been going through when they were together in the serie. But it’s true that it’s. really in the background so I can get why people feel this way. 

Ahah omg I love this part. But yup I agree. I personally think that at first, Kurapika didn’t especially try to bond with anyone (thus why he started to be hard on Leorio) and that when Leorio started to express his love for money Kurapika was extremely pissed off. It’s understandable considering his people had been slaughered so their eyes could be sold (and even further once the manga read, it always remind me that Leorio’s attitude could have reminded Kurapika of the bully who tried to steal his and Pairo’s money for the chief of their clan) so he as pityless against him, and Leorio was hurt in his pride. 

When they started tagging along so, it was mostly the camaradry of saving Gon and seeing each others reactions to this incident that had them try travelling together. and then Kurapika says himself that after getting to know Leorio he’s not “one of those guy obsessed with money” which Kurapika despite at first (and I still consider it rather trusting of Kurapika that, when he still hadn’t have any confirmation Leorio wasn’t moneyhungry, he still told him right away his eyes were worth billions (and how Leorio imediatly asked about his pride, since he got to know Kurapika)). Leading to the real goal conversation here they really started to soften big time (again likely bc Kurapika left his village to explore the wolrd and hopefully find a doctor for Pairo). 

So that’s what I mean mostly by the real clash in the begining that all started on a big missunderstanding and why then it became easier on each other. During the missunderstanding, they thought the other was everything they hated, and after this conversation, Kurapika proved he didn’t care about his pride as much as Leorio thought, and Leorio proved his genuine pure intentions that Kurapika appreciated.

But then there’s still the obvious bickering, especially with the food (I love this part so much) but it became much more like people teasing each other than meanspirited (the only fight they had that was a little more than bickering imo is in the Prison Exam when Leorio keeps asking Kurapika to kill the fake spider, which in itself is interesting for Leorio’s determination and how after that and spending more time with Kurapika he dreeds at the idea of Kurapika killing people).

But yup, while we mostly see Leorio worry for Kurapika I’d say they both would. Leorio also manages to calm Kurapika down sometimes, I think mostly hen Chrollo starts to try angering Kurapika. to be fair Leorio has a golden heart and once he starts caring for someone he’ll care more than ever, and for Kurapika, for someone who lost everything he ever loved, he grows protective of his new friends. But it’s true the anime doesn’t really show that toard Leorio aside from the hunter exams which. Pls. Togashi help.

(and overrall I tend to overread everything so I could ship them with what I got from the 2011 anime and from the manga so far)

And ye so I heard about the 1999 vers :3 Which is why I really need to watch it. I’m not sure I’ll watch with the english dub but well, I’m sure at least I’ll watch it. The more Leopika I get the better ;O 

#ghostwriter24 #ichareply #ichashipping leopika #ichafantalks hxh