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justafewsmallsteps · 3 years

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A look into LadyNoir for my Reversal AU, The Other Way Around. You don’t really need to read the other parts to get this one :)

Title: The Other Way Around, Part 3 Pairing: Lovesquare (LadyNoir) Rating: G+ Word Count: 2.5K

The first time Marinette really interacted with a cat was at a friend’s house. She was six years old at her very first sleepover. Nervous and shy, she’d spent the majority of the evening worrying about what would happen once the lights were out. She’d never had to sleep through a night without her parents or family with her. No amount of cartoons or pillow fights could fully ease the fear of impending darkness.

The other three girls seemed totally adjusted and excited, but Marinette could hardly eat dinner even though it was pizza from their favorite spot. Then she nearly burst into tears at the table when they served the cookies her parents had sent with her, overwhelmed with missing them so badly. With her eyes stinging and her voice ready to cry out that they should call home to pick her up, Button the cat suddenly sprung onto her lap. She was a fluffy tan thing with two black dots going down the center of her back, hence her name. In that moment she looked just like a chocolate chip cookie, albeit one that blinked up at Marinette’s face with huge, adorable brown eyes. The cat smooshed her head against the girl’s stomach, sat down, and began to purr. In her surprise and fascination, young Marinette forgot what she was so upset over.

She never had pets growing up—the hair was too much to maintain when her family also lived in a bakery—so she hadn’t any courage to approach Button before, even when the other girls had spent time petting her. She knew cats had claws and their yawns revealed sharp, pointy teeth. The last thing she wanted was to get scratched or bitten when she was already terrified. Cats had been a scary mystery. Button was small and fluffy and warm. The moment she cuddled up to her, Marinette fell in love.

After that day, cats became her favorite animal, and while she still wasn’t allowed to have one (despite the begging and puppy eyes that her mother valiantly fought against with gentle reasoning), Marinette surrounded herself with them as a good luck charm. She had kitty keychains, plush toys, cat-covered folders to take to class, and cat-print bedsheets. The obsessive phase lasted for three years, but the fondness stayed even when her room took on a pink and floral theme to match her changing design aesthetic. Obviously when she found the giant body pillow shaped like a cat, she knew she had to have it anyway. After long days of dealing with Chloe’s yapping and her own special trademark combination of back luck and clumsiness, hugging that massive squishy cat became her ultimate comfort.

That was, until another cat fell into her lap. Well, crashed into her entire body was more what happened.

When she was gifted her miraculous, Marinette thought herself a poor fit for a superhero. She liked leadership positions and really didn’t have a big problem taking charge when needed, but saving lives was a ton of pressure. She’d thrown her yoyo randomly, not sure of a single move she made, and in doing so managed to tangle her partner and herself up despite the superpowers. Chat Noir seemed more natural, and surely he deserved a partner that had the confidence to match his skills instead of her. Marinette was stuck in her head with apprehension. She’d totally screwed up her very first mission by letting the akuma multiply instead of purifying it. She wasn’t excited to be a hero. She was terrified.

Maybe it was the cat bias that made her instantly trust Chat Noir, but it was the way he put his warm hands so squarely on her shoulders and assured her that she could do this, that made her fall in love. It was the second time a cat had saved her from giving in to her fears.

He gave her the courage to stand up to Hawkmoth, and the moment she vowed to take him down was a triumph of bravery. She wouldn’t have been able to do that without him.

Of course she fell for him.

He didn’t make it any easier for her as they got closer. He was just so endearingly sweet, throwing compliments at her all the time for encouragement.

If only she didn’t turn into an absolute pile of goo whenever he did. At least she was always able to pull herself together to get the job done, but it was his fault. What could anyone expect from her when her partner was talented, smart, super handsome, and somehow humble about all of it?

She’d witnessed how he avoided the spotlight in favor of checking up with akuma victims. She’d seen him time after time go out of his way to protect others, especially her, from harm’s way. And after he did all those things he’d throw her the credit as if she was the one saving the day.

They worked together well, reading each other’s moves and adapting to each other’s pace. But he never needed the attention, happy to just get the mission done. It was a side of him that she got to see when the crowds weren’t looking, proud at what they’d accomplished while holding his fist out to hers in solidarity to say, “We did it!” Together. Always together.

But then their miraculouses would beep, and they’d have to go their separate ways with her casting lingering glances towards whichever horizon he’d disappear off to.

At least during some of their mutual patrols they had time to talk. She looked forward to each one, no matter what other responsibilities she had waiting for her once it was over. Getting to know her partner was such a highlight to her identity as Ladybug. There was the triumph of victory, the thrill of the physics defying feats she could accomplish, the heartwarming gratitude of the citizens… and then there was this: sitting at the top of the Eiffel with their feeting dangling in the cool Parisian air, aimlessly talking above a safe city set aglow with evening lights; the warm sense of security yet tingling excitement of hanging out with her one and only crush.

“Favorite hot drink?” she wondered.

Asking non-identifying questions was their way of bonding without compromising themselves.

Chat Noir hummed thoughtfully over a cookie—raspberry macarons, a favorite she had learned fairly early on. “The hot chocolate you brought in the winter was great. Probably the best I’ve ever had, actually.”

She blushed and kicked her feet nervously. She swore that she would’ve tripped if they’d been walking. Somehow his compliments did that to her. “T-thanks.”

He grabbed another macaron and turned it over, studying the ruffled feet as he added, “Otherwise I’m really fond of tea. My mother liked English high tea; always insisted we have a tea break at some point in the day. When I was a kid I was only in it for the cookies and sandwiches, but at this point I like the drink too. It's nostalgic.”

He always got wistful when he spoke about his mother, but Marinette knew that train of thought would lead them to somewhere too personal. It wasn’t that she didn’t yearn to know more about him. Quite the opposite, but they both knew that it wasn’t safe yet. There had been too many close calls. She followed up with another question. “Any tea in particular?”

“Earl grey, usually. I’m a fan of London Fogs over coffee.”

She smiled down, looking at her home’s direction. They had a lovely macaron with that flavor as well, she thought. She could bring him a variety box next time. Maybe one day they could do tea together in some fashion. A picnic, perhaps? High tea during an evening patrol seemed a bit strange, but she could always brew him a decaf in a thermos so he wouldn’t be hopped up on caffeine. Or maybe that was too much if she was already bringing the same flavor in a cookie. Did hot chocolate go well with earl grey? What about the raspberry? Plenty of people ordered a variety of flavors all the time. Maybe she should throw in a few others for balance, like the rose ones. Wait, were rose flavored macarons too romantic? Would it seem like a date if she brought him flower-flavored food? Not that she didn’t want to date him because of course she did but—

“Deep in thought, Ladybug?”

Chat Noir’s twinkling green eyes greeted her, just a few centimeters from her face. He must have been trying to get her attention for a while.

Surprised, she suddenly scooted back and flailed. “Oh!” Thankfully she was securely seated on the beam enough to not begin a sad plummet to the ground. Desserts were well and good, but she’d prefer to avoid becoming a polka dotted pancake. “Yes, sorry! Did you say something?”

He laughed his magical laugh, accustomed to her tendency to get lost in her own head. “No need to apologize. I was just saying that it was my turn to ask a question before we turn in for the night.”

Ah, was it already time to go back? Sheepishly, the heroine smiled. “Did you already ask it?”

A flash of teeth showed off his mirthful grin. “I did.”

“Sorry.” He had already told her not to apologize, but it was embarrassing that she was fantasizing about dating him when he was literally sitting besides her. “What was it again?”

“I asked if you’ve been on a date lately, Little Lady.”

Oh.

Her mind short-circuited. Had she been babbling out loud? How desperate had she sounded? “What? Me! Doing to date you? I mean, going on a date with someyou? Someone!”

If her slip up meant anything, he didn’t acknowledge it. He never did. Did she want him to?

“Yep. Like a romantic one-on-one date. I, uh,” he bashfully scratched the back of his neck, “I’ve been thinking about it lately.”

A rush of blood warmed her cheeks. “Y-you were?” Thinking about dating someone? Her? Them? Romantically!

He avoided her eyes, choosing to look up instead as he laughed nervously. “For a while now. I don’t even think I could, but there’s a girl…”

I’m a girl, her brain supplied with excitement.

“You can’t ask her?”

He clicked his tongue. “There’s a few conflicts. First of all, I don’t know how she really feels about me, and… I don’t know how to say the other part without really giving anything away.”

Ladybug pursed her lips and gave him time, either out of courtesy or because she was freaking out and incapable of speech.

“Um, it’s like… an occupational issue, I guess. I don’t know if I’d be allowed, in a sense. Then there’s the issue that I know nearly nothing about dating,” he explained.

For all his vagueness, she fit his description enough. She’d never outright confessed to being in love with him, so he didn’t know her feelings. Also they weren’t really supposed to date with all their responsibilities, and wasn’t that just part of their job as heroes? So for all intents and purposes, Chat Noir really could have been talking about her. The possibility made her head spin.

Her hope was strung on a tightrope; a precarious position that could go either way. She could ask him directly if he meant someone in his civilian life or if by some miracle he was talking about her—or she could stay on the precipice between disappointment and bliss. But for all her clumsiness, Marinette preferred balance whenever she could manage it. So she stayed her course, eyes far from looking down at the possibilities and instead on the objective: answer him.

“I haven’t been on a real date recently, no.”

She looked for any hint about his feelings in his response, any indication that he was relieved or just pitied her. He simply nodded, leaving her clueless as she continued to walk the tightrope.

“Same,” he let out a whiny sigh. “I guess I can’t really ask for advice then. I’m terrible when it comes to romance.”

She traced one of her spots with a gloved finger, trying to keep a clear mind despite the slight relief that her crush wasn’t out on dates all the time. “I doubt it. You’re so amazing, you’d make any girl really happy and lucky to be with you.” Saying those words aloud had her face feeling as red as her suit.

“Luck is your department, LB,” he grinned. “I imagine admirers are chasing you left and right.”

“Not in any serious manner,” Adrien’s corny and outlandish attempts to get her attention came to mind. He was just a flirt by nature, hardly what someone would consider a real admirer. “I… I’d be happy to go on a date with somebody who really liked me though.”

He gave her a thoughtful look that made her pause.

She stood up suddenly. “I mean, not just anybody! Like… if I knew they actually liked me, then I might give it a chance? Depending on the person.”

Chat Noir smiled again, patiently letting her ramble as usual.

She took a deep breath to collect herself. “It doesn’t matter how experienced you are with dating, at least that’s what I think. If she’s a nice person then she’ll also understand and you’ll both get through it together. You just have to be yourself.”

“You’re right as always, Little Lady,” he sighed. Her stomach did a flip at the soft sound of his voice. “You know, you do give the best advice.”

Balance, she reminded herself. Tightrope.

But he spoke again, “I can always count on you to cheer me up if things go wrong, can’t I?”

The words were kind—like a soft breeze—which was just enough to throw off her careful, barely established balance; just enough information to tip her over to the fact that he must have been talking about some other girl if at the end of the day he could still find comfort in her, his partner.

And so she fell. Or, well, she’d fallen for him a long time ago. What did she expect? Something happier, she’d hoped. Something more similar to catching herself with her yo-yo, lifting back up to soar instead of her hopes tumbling down.

“Ladybug?”

She took a second to glance down at the ground where her heart felt like it had dropped. From their high position on the Eiffel, it was a long way down. For how much she loved him, she wasn’t sure just how her heart would break. Shatter like glass? Crumble to pieces? Or would it plummet and dent the floor because it certainly felt as heavy as lead when she turned to face Chat Noir, an achingly sweet melancholy painted on face as he smiled at her.

“Of course you can count on me. You and me against it all,” she assured, holding out her hand to help him up. It was time to go, after all.

He grinned as he stood, “Everything from akumas to heartbreak.”

She gave a weak laugh in reply. “Good night, Chat.”

“Good night, Little Lady.”

#miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #chat noir #ladybug #justafewsmallsteps #Jelly art #the other way around #Reversal au #Jelly fic

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niksixx · 4 years

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Close to Perfect

Requested: My idea

Pairing: The Dirt!Nikki Sixx x Fem!Reader

Description: Your baby’s father doesn’t show up to the birth of your son, so Nikki takes his place.

A/N: As always, your support is incredible. Reblog, comment, add tags <3

Y/B/N: Your baby’s name

*Picture is NOT mine. Found on google. Credit to the owner.*

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In a room filled with three other people that are comforting you and doing all they can to make you feel safe, you’ve never felt more alone and afraid. Sweat slicks every crevice of your body as you try to focus on the nurses hooking you up to machines and not the bone crushing contractions you’ve been feeling for an hour.

Your due date wasn’t quite near, but your baby boy wanted to make his appearance to the world a bit earlier. Your water had broke suddenly in the kitchen as you were preparing dinner, almost dropping the butter knife as the liquid trickled down your thighs. In a panic, you called the only person you could think of in that moment: Your son’s father.

As he chose not to be in your son’s life, it shouldn’t have surprised you that he refused to bring you to the hospital either. Begging and pleading as the contractions grew more frequent and painful did nothing but cause him to hang up the phone.

The only other option at that time was to call a cab, tipping generously at the end as the cab driver had to deal with your moans and whimpers from the backseat. Luckily there was a nurse with a wheelchair waiting for you at the entrance to the hospital.

As the nurses finish adjusting the IV, you wiggle around in the bed to try and find a comfortable position. A growl erupts from your belly, and instead of being graced with substance, you’re presented with ice chips.

While the contractions were growing more painful, you still weren’t fully dilated enough to start pushing. You opted for the epidural, promising to yourself that your next pregnancy would be all natural.

After the nurses left to wait on other patients, the solemn reality hit you. You were about to become a first time mother, and you were going to have to do it alone.

Calling your child’s father was useless. He’d never show up. He didn’t care enough about the life he helped create, and you refused to believe that you even needed him there. You could do this just fine on your own.

And then the epidural had worn off and as you reached ten centimeters dilation, it was time to finally push. But as the nurses and obstetrician were helping you adjust for labor, your cell phone chimed next to you.

With a stretch, you clicked the speaker, hoping to make the phone call quick as you were only minutes away from your first push. “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. You know that Def Leppard cutoff shirt I always wear?”

The doctor gives you a quizzical look. “Uh, Miss--.”

“Yeah, I do,” Trying to mask the groan of pain, you bite down hard on your lip. The intensity of the contractions is only growing stronger now, and you’re not sure how long you can last. “Listen, Nikki, now isn’t really a good time.”

“Wait, don’t hang up! I just need to know if I left it at your house last week. I can’t find it anywhere and Mick swears he didn’t steal it.”

Again, the doctor shoots you a look, one more annoyed this time. “Ma’am, we really need to--.”

“Nikki, I’m literally in the hospital about to give birth. Can the shirt wait?”

There’s a sharp breath on the other end after a long pause. Aside from your baby’s father, Nikki was the first person who had known about your pregnancy. You’d grown up together, and even visited Nikki and his band a few times while they were busy touring the world and playing music for anyone that’d listen. “Right now?”

You nod. “Right now.”

He hesitates before asking the question he already knows the answer to. “Is he there?”

“No, Nikki. My water broke earlier and I called him to ask if he could bring me to the hospital. He hung up and I called a cab. Unfortunately, your shirt isn’t my main priority right now,” You laugh in good nature. Part of you is hurt, though. How could anyone neglect their responsibilities as a parent? How could anyone, any man, deny their child?

Neither one of you signed up for this life. The baby’s father had made it his priority to remind you that your child was merely an accident, and therefore he owed no responsibility for a child he never wanted.

Nikki had been more than a friend throughout your pregnancy. Caring for others was in his nature, apparently, but when it came to you, it felt different. He took care of you in ways he didn’t need to. Helping you bathe. Picking up food to ease your cravings. Holding you as you cried in his arms. He had always gone above and beyond for you even when he didn’t need to.

“I can be there in fifteen minutes,” There’s commotion on the other end of the line, most likely Nikki panicking to find his shoes and keys. Fifteen minutes isn’t ideal, and your doctor is certainly in a mood now as he stares at you with a blank expression, eyebrows pulled together. Another contraction hits and you grip the sides of your thighs tightly. “Y/N, I’m on my way. Don’t have that baby without me.”

~~~

Nikki is by your side shortly after your first push. Seeing him wide eyed and a bit frazzled eases your pain, and you’re glad he’s there now. You didn’t realize how much you needed his support.

“I’m here, I’m here,” He kisses your forehead quickly, reaching one arm around the pillow to cradle your head, other hand clasped tightly in yours. “Let’s have a baby, okay?”

You nod and focus on the doctor as he commands you to push. Unfortunately for the epidural wearing off, you feel every shred of pain. Sucking in a breath you push again and again, sweat beading your body as every ounce of energy is slowly being drained from your body.

“Baby’s crowning.”

Nikki gazes back at you, his look one of pure adoration. “You’re doing so good. Only a few more pushes okay? You can do this.”

His words make it feel possible. Your lips are dry so you lick them once before adjusting your grip on Nikki’s hand. “I can do this.”

“Ready, Y/N? And one...two...three…”

An ear splitting cry erupts throughout the room, and the weight is lifted off your shoulders as your squirming baby boy is placed on your chest. The blood and gunk on his tiny body isn’t even worth cringing over as you hold him against you. Tears course down your cheeks and drip off your chin, but Nikki is there beside you wiping them away, all the while completely mesmerized by your strength.

As much as you don’t want to let him go, you hand off your son to the nurses for a quick bath. Head against the pillow, your body is overcome with extreme fatigue. A hand comes up to your forehead, pushing the hair off your sweaty skin.

“I did it,” Pride swells in your chest. The morning sickness, the constant cravings, the heartburn, the back pain, everything was worth it. “I did it.”

And even pride swirls in Nikki’s heart. The road to your son’s birth hadn’t been smooth sailing. There were many bumps in the road, and Nikki knew more than anyone how much you had doubted yourself, your abilities to raise a child alone. But if anyone could overcome the adversity life threw at them, it was you. And you’d do it with passion and grace. “I’m so proud of you.”

~~~

Wrapped tightly in a white blanket, your baby boy is fast asleep against your chest. Your jealousy thickens as you observe his sweet little face sleeping so peacefully against your chest.

Almost as if he can hear your thoughts, Nikki pipes up from the chair by the window. “Are you tired? Do you want me to hold him?”

You’d have forever to hold your little boy, so you gingerly hand him over to an excited Nikki. After helping him reposition his arms to support the baby boy’s head, your own head sinks into the pillow, eyes fluttering shut.

“Hi, Y/B/N. It’s me, Uncle Nikki. I’ve been friends with your mother for a while now, and I want you to know that you have the best mommy in the world.” Your eyes fly open as quick as they had closed, and the sight in front of you warms your heart. Pressing a delicate kiss to your son’s head, Nikki holds him close. “Somedays, she’s going to struggle though. And when she does, I want you to know that I’m always going to look after her. She can do this alone,” Emotion clouds Nikki’s voice. “But I want her to know she doesn't have to.”

Something in the atmosphere changes. The man in front of you cradling your son as if he were his own had transformed before your eyes. Your heart had always held a soft spot for Nikki, and growing up it wasn’t uncommon for adults to assume you were romantically involved. You’d always denied a relationship between you and Nikki, but as you stare at him softly singing a lullaby to your son, the possibility of you and Nikki entertaining something more than friendship rose to the surface.

“And there’s something I never want you to forget, little one,” Nikki speaks to your son, but his eyes, so full of something that can’t be described as anything other than longing, are zeroed in on your face. “Your mother, even with all her flaws, her quirks, and her insecurities, she’s as close to perfect as one can get. And to be loved by her is something out of a dream.”

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mintyminyoongi · 3 years

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Idiots

Pairing: Min Yoongi x ReaderRating: T

Word Count: 7.8k

Trigger warnings: None

Summary: Imagine you love Yoongi and Yoongi loves you but you’re both idiots and can’t say it. Or better yet, read about it.

Normally, when your phone starts ringing at 2:00 AM, you would curse the living daylights out of the person on the other end of the line. Maybe ask them if they were raised by barbarians or looking to get fully throttled.

But when you finish grumbling curses under your breath and crack an eye open to look at your screen, you can’t help the way your heart flops over a little. Yoongi. You swipe your thumb across the screen to answer before it goes to voicemail.

“You better be dead or dying,” you groan into the receiver.

You hear him curse under his breath and some fumbling around. “I, um, am not dying. Coincidentally. I forgot to check the time again.”

His low, drawling voice sends a shiver down your spine, as always. “Yeah, you did.” You find yourself chuckling, despite your initial anger.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “You were sleeping?”

You laugh fully this time. “Yeah Yoongi, I was sleeping. Like most people do at two in the morning on a Wednesday.”

“Ugh, sorry Y/N.” He sighs into the phone.

You frown and roll in your sheets, sitting up fully. “Hey, you okay? It’s been a while since you’ve spaced on time like this.”

About three years ago, you met Yoongi. You’d just graduated from university and had been able to get an internship at a tech start up in Seoul. It was shit pay and crazy hours but you loved the work.

You had met Yoongi in a cafe, late one night. Officially, you were off the clock but you had taken your laptop with you to try and catch up on some of your assignments. The cafe was close to your apartment, open late and had cheap, strong coffee.

Yoongi had been set up at one of the far tables, feline eyes droopy despite the numerous coffee cups littering his table. He had a fancy set of headphones on and his bleached blonde hair had dark roots growing in.

The cafe was busy, even during this time of night so you took one of the last empty tables near him. You tried to get work done, honestly. But between your sleep deprivation, over caffeination and this gorgeous boy sitting a table away, it was difficult.

So he naturally caught you staring at him. And your best way to save face was to point dumbly at your own ear. His brow furrowed but he pushed one headphone off his ear anyway.

“Sorry, just... I could hear your music through the headphones. It’s a little distracting.” It wasn’t, you could barely hear it over the other cafe noises. “Also, it’s bad for your hearing. To play music that loud.”

You wanted to disappear. Like wholly, from this plane of existence and any others that were out there.

But he just looks at you with an amused, crooked smile.

You didn’t know at the time that Yoongi was a successful rapper. He went by the name Agust D, and had just gotten back from his first tour after the release of his mixtape.

And the formation of your friendship went just like that. He needed a friend that didn’t care about his fame or his reputation. And you just needed a friend.

So what if you thought he was incredibly hot and talented and funny… Yoongi had never shown you any interest, romantically. And that was fine with you. His friendship meant the world to you.

Anyway, Yoongi wasn’t the best at taking care of himself. So when he calls you in the middle of the night, it’s almost always because he’s been locked in his studio all day and has lost all sense of time.

He sighs, not answering you right away. “I’m okay. Just- stuck on a song.”

You furrow your brow. “When did you eat last?”

A beat of silence. “Um.”

“Yoongi.” You bite your tongue to hold back the full lecture. “How about sleep?”

An even longer pause. “I took a nap this afternoon,” he says. “Or wait. What day is it?”

“Alright, that’s enough. Go home. Take a shower, sleep in an actual bed. You’re not doing yourself any favors running on fumes.”

“I know.”

“Nope, not buying it. I wanna hear you leave the studio.”

“Woman,” he sighs under his breath. “Fine.”

You can hear him shutting down the programs on his computer, almost feeling the way he’s making mental notes of where to pick up in the morning.

“So, which song is giving you trouble?”

Yoongi starts to describe the track, how he wants a syncopated rhythm but it’s not hitting right. He muses all the way during his walk home about different things he can try.

You curl back up into bed, just listening to him and giving what little insight you could. It kind of pained you to admit how much just the sound of his voice affected you.

Before long, you hear his front chime open. “Okay, I’m home.” You hope you were imagining just how exhausted he was. Even though you know you weren’t.

“Good. Please take care of yourself, Yoongi. You’re starting to give me gray hairs.”

Yoongi just huffs into the phone. “Thank you, Y/N. I am sorry for waking you up. Tomorrow’s your big presentation right?”

“It’s okay,” you say. “Yeah, it's at nine. So like,” you wince as you look at your screen. “Six hours.”

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath. “I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine, Yoongi. Honestly. I’m used to running on no energy and all coffee.”

You could tell he didn’t feel better with that answer. “We're still on for movie night on Friday?”

“Yes please. I’ve been killing myself trying to avoid spoiler alerts.”

“Okay, great. I’ll bring snacks to make it up to you.”

You thought about protesting but knew it would be pointless. “That sounds like a fabulous idea. Now go get some sleep! And when you eat in the morning, it needs to be something that doesn’t come out of a plastic package, you hear me?”

“Aish, woman, let me live,” he gripes but you know him well enough that you can practically picture the smile on his face. “See you Friday. Good luck with the presentation, you’re gonna kill it.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.” You hang up and have to force yourself back to sleep, always getting a bit of a high from talking to him.

On Friday night, you were running around your apartment like a mad woman, trying to get it clean before Yoongi shows up. Even though he was terrible with the concept of time, he was never late to your movie nights.

You had stayed late at work talking to your boss about your presentation from the day before. So when Yoongi showed up at your door right on time you were still in your work clothes, hair a mess.

“Hi, come in. What the-” Your eyes practically bulge out of your head when you see how many bags he’s carrying.

“I said I would bring snacks,” he says sheepishly, cheeks tinted a dusty pink.

“Yoongi, this is like a whole store.”

He sets the bags down on your kitchen counter. “I felt bad about waking you up.”

You shove his arm, eyes widening further as he starts unbagging everything. “I told you it was fine, you dope! This is way too much food.”

Just as he opens his mouth your doorbell rings. Yoongi looks at you guiltily, a bag of your favorite chips in his hand.

“I may have also ordered pizza from that place you like.”

You wanted to smack him and kiss him in the same instant. That pizza was the perfect way to end a long, stressful week. “Well, you answer the door. I’m going to change clothes.”

In your room, you quickly change into sweats and a t-shirt. You fix your hair into a normal, less insane ponytail and make your way back into the kitchen.

You find Yoongi staring at you as you drop your hands from your hair. “What?”

He coughs, looking down. “Nothing. The food’s all ready.”

You frown a little but leave it. Then you see the three pizza boxes sitting on the counter. “Min Yoongi you did not order three pizzas and buy all these snacks.”

He squawks a little, unable to form words for a second. “Will you just take my apology already?”

Your heart seizes a little at his sincerity and you try not to read into it. “Fine. Apology accepted.” You cross your way into the kitchen, grabbing some plates out of the cabinet.

“How did your presentation go, by the way?”

“Oh my god it went great, Yoongi! My boss loved the idea of an integrated software, and he gave me the lead on it.” You turn to see him watching you attentively, a proud smile on his face.

“And this is the first time you’ve been the lead, right?”

“Yeah, at least one of this size. It’s gonna be a lot of work but I’m really excited.”

Once again, Yoongi gives you this unreadable look. His gaze makes you feel squirmy so you hand him a plate. “Well I’m proud of you, Y/N. You’ve really made a name for yourself at that company.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.” You cracked open the first pizza box and could’ve started drooling. “Oh my god, this smells amazing.”

When you’re thoroughly surrounded on the couch with more pizza, snacks and wine than any two people could need, you start the movie.

You and Yoongi had started making movie nights a habit about a year ago. Every month you both find time to make it work. It was kind of your favorite thing but you wouldn’t tell him that.

You really were trying to reign in your feelings for him. It didn’t seem fair, when Yoongi was only looking for platonic companionship. So you keep respectable inches between the two of you as you queued up the movie.

Yoongi gave you a judgy look at the moan you let out around your first bite of pizza but a swift elbow to the ribs made him look away.

The movie was pretty good, it was a slasher movie that came out earlier in the year. You watched with your mouth hung open in disbelief as the killer rose from the dead for the third time and snuck up on the lead actress.

“Oh, come on, they can’t be serious.” You lean forward on the couch cushion, thoroughly enveloped in the plotline. As the killer brandishes a kitchen knife and raises it above his head, your reflex is to smack Yoongi in the arm.

“Why doesn’t she just turn around?” you demand. “The house is like 800 years old the floorboards are creaking louder than your snoring.”

You can feel Yoongi look at you in offense. “First you hit me then you insult me?”

The girl on the screen eventually turns around and a chase ensues. You turn to Yoongi. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you. I just get so wound up at these movies.”

“Oh, but you meant to insult me?” He says, an eyebrow raised.

Damn, he looks good sprawled out on your couch. The thought comes unbidden. You bring yourself back to the present, to the sound of screaming and shrill horror music in the background. The present with Yoongi sitting on your couch.

“Yeah, I mean have you heard your snoring?”

“When have you heard me snore?” he demands.

You turn to face him on the couch, the movie forgotten for the moment. “Like three months ago, when you showed up at my door, completely wasted. You stumbled around my apartment for twenty minutes and then you passed out on the couch. You snored. All night.”

Yoongi looks at you with his mouth hung open, speechless. He shakes his head, seeming to snap out of it. “I completely forgot about that night.”

“Yeah, it was after some event at your label. You showed up smelling like cheap perfume and whiskey, barely able to stand up straight. I gave Namjoon an earful the next day for letting you get that drunk.”

Yoongi scoffs, suddenly finding the hole in the knee of his jeans very interesting. “He didn’t let me do anything. I can be pretty stubborn when it comes to that stuff.”

You nod, not understanding where the uneasy mood came from. “That’s pretty much what he told me. He said that you showed up to the event pissed off, that you were an asshole the whole night and he couldn’t keep you in check.”

“Yeah I wasn’t myself that night.”

He still wouldn’t look at you.

“I remember,” you say. “I’d never seen you that far gone before. Namjoon said he hadn’t either.”

Yoongi stays silent. For long enough that you started to turn back to the TV screen, not wanting to push him.

Truthfully, that night had kind of scared you. He had been almost incoherent when you let him in. Yoongi was a fan of a good whiskey but he usually didn’t get that drunk, let alone wasted like that. You hadn’t known what to do so you kind of just stood back as Yoongi mumbled to himself, shucking his jacket and boots before falling onto the couch and passing out.

He says something under his breath and even though you were right next to him you didn’t catch it. You wince as a bloodcurdling scream comes from the TV screen. He doesn’t even seem to notice it.

“What did you say?” You ask him, scooting a little closer.

Again, he stays quiet. At which point you’re starting to get annoyed, so you let out a huff and flop back against the couch cushion.

“You had a date that night.”

You stare uncomprehendingly at the gory scene on the TV before looking at him. “What?”

He had turned his gaze to you, but not in your eyes. He’s looking somewhere around your shoulder, you think.

Yoongi runs his tongue over his teeth before answering you. “That night, you had a date with some guy from your office.”

You think back, remember that you’d had a date with Minho. He was in the advertising department of your company. He had a really cute smile and loved cats so you thought you’d give him a chance.

You thought if you just actively started dating that you would get over your stupid crush on Yoongi faster.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work.

Even though Minho was attractive, and he had really funny stories you only found yourself thinking about Yoongi all night. The date had ended when he walked you to your door, and kissed your cheek. You told him it had been a nice night but you didn’t think you saw him as more than a friend. Things had been awkward around the office for a few days but he took it graciously and you two are friends now.

Yoongi had shown up not long after you’d gotten back. You were still in your dress, heels kicked off by the door. You remember now, he had given you a once over and scoffed before stepping past you into the apartment. Before you’d gone on the date, you’d told Yoongi about it. You thought maybe if he hyped you up it would help you be more excited for it.

Instead, he just said “have fun” and didn’t speak to you for the rest of the night. Until he showed up at your door, so drunk he couldn’t stand straight.

He never asked about the date, you didn’t think he even remembered it. He certainly didn’t seem like he cared about it at the time.

Belatedly, you realize the end credits are rolling on the screen.

And Yoongi is staring at you. Not at your shoulder or somewhere in the vicinity. Right at you.

“Yoongi…” You say, because you didn’t know what else to say.

He gulps down the rest of his wine and turns to face you fully. “I-I didn’t have the right to be jealous but I was. Of him. So I went to that stupid fundraising event and focused on the free drinks and the easy women. And ended up here anyway.”

You swallowed thickly, trying not to overthink what he was saying. “You were jealous?” The words are strained as you say them. Your hands curled into fists because the bite of your nails in your palms helps to ground you.

Yoongi leans in a little, sucks in a quick breath. He opens his mouth to speak just as the movie kicks back to the main menu, the title music blaring through the speakers.

You jump reflexively. You didn’t realize how close you’d gotten to him, your face barely a few inches from his. So close you can see his pupils dilate, can smell the sweet red wine on his breath.

And just like that, Yoongi seems to snap out of something. He stands from the couch and picks up your dirty plates and wine glasses. He’s already in the kitchen, loading the dishes in the washer when you feel yourself snap back into reality.

What the hell was that?

You were pretty sure you weren’t misreading things. He was jealous that you were dating other people. Well, had dated other people. Honestly you were tired of the whole song and dance. You hadn’t been on a date since Minho. When the right guy came along, you would try again. But you hadn’t found anyone that could hold a candle to Yoongi. And you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time.

But… why was Yoongi jealous? He was famous, had tons of beautiful idols and models and actresses he could pick from. Maybe he was just jealous of having a normal dating life.

Either way when you shuffle into the kitchen with the bowls of snacks, you couldn’t ignore the tension in Yoongi’s shoulders. The dishes were all loaded but he stood at the sink, clutching the edge of the counter.

“Yoongi.” This was new for you. You’d never felt uncertain around him before. Maybe shy, when you caught yourself thinking about his adorable smile or strong hands. But never uncertain.

He cleared his throat and turned abruptly. “I forgot I have an early morning tomorrow. I should get going.”

You frown, not wanting to leave things in this weird state. You follow him to the door where he’s pulling on his coat. “Yoongi,” you try again.

He falters, head hanging low.

“Will you just tell me what’s bothering you?” You finally demand.

Yoongi turns swiftly, pulling you close to him by your waist. He leans his forehead against yours and you suck in a breath, gasping it out at his proximity. Usually you’re the one initiating the contact, little side hugs or poking his cheeks when he’s grumpy. You always tease him about his fear of intimacy.

He huffs out a breath and closes his eyes. His hands tighten their grip on your waist.

You let him hold you. Part of you can tell he somehow needs this. You wonder if he can feel how heavily your heart is beating inside your chest. It feels thunderous to you.

Yoongi shifts, turning his face into your neck. You feel yourself relax a bit. This feels more familiar, closer to the hugs you’ve shared before. You allow yourself to wrap your arms around him, hoping to bring him some comfort.

“Don’t date anyone else.”

The words are soft, spoken against the skin of your neck. But you hear them perfectly. And your heart skips a beat all the same. “Yoongi-”

He moves, pulling his face from the crook of your neck. It takes him a minute to bring his eyes up to meet yours. And it almost seems to pain him when he croaks out “Please, Y/N.”

One of your hands seems to have its own mind as it combs through the hair at the back of his neck. His eyes close a little as he waits for your answer. “Okay,” you whisper.

His sharp gaze snaps up to yours and it takes you aback. Your hormone addled brain thinks that he’s going to kiss you. And it really seems like he’s going to. He moves one of his hands from your waist to cradle your face in his palm.

You lick your lips subconsciously and Yoongi’s eyes dart down to watch the action. And then something happens in his brain because he’s letting you go and backing away. “I should go,” he mutters as he pulls a mask from his coat.

Something about his tone is final. You don’t want to push it or question him. He turns back to you when he’s out in the hallway. “I’ll call you later.”

You nod, thoroughly overwhelmed and incapable of forming a response. And then he’s gone. And you close the door and have to ask yourself if you didn’t just dream the whole thing.

You were slammed at work the next week, trying to get the initial details of your new project hammered out. And maybe the lack of communication from Yoongi encouraged you to throw yourself headfirst into the work. Because you really didn’t want to stop and think about what your conversation that night had meant.

‘Don’t date anyone else’? That could really only mean one thing, right? If he didn’t want you dating anyone else it was so you could be with him. Right?

Or maybe he just meant he didn’t want you dating the wrong guys, to protect you or whatever. As if he could know that Minho or any of the other guys you’d dated were “wrong”.

And this whirling blackhole of a thought process is exactly why you’d been staying late every night this week.

The sun had been down for hours when you finally left your office building. You’re on the subway home when Yoongi calls you. Your eyes widen and you feel your heart stutter a bit when you see his name on the screen.

When you answer the phone you immediately hold the receiver away from your ear, the speaker blasting music and overlapping chatter from a crowd. “Yoongi?”

You think you can hear him saying something in the background. After a few moments you hang up. He must’ve called accidentally. And you have to kick yourself for getting so excited.

He’s out at a club or a concert, judging by the noise. It could be for work or for pleasure. Either way, he’s out with people and probably other girls-

You have to stop yourself. He’s not yours.

You get through the train ride and the walk home with a set jaw. This was exhausting. This weird, in-between thing was way worse than just suppressing your feelings altogether.

It was a little after 10:00 when he started texting you. You’d just finished eating a bowl of instant noodles over the sink when you see it. And from the first text you could tell he was drunk.

10:11 Yoongi: I MISs you

10:15 Yoongi: Y/N

10:15 Yoongi: This palace sucks

10:19 Yoongi: wis

10:19 Yoongi: I wish

10:20 Yoongi: Wish yu were hr

10:23 Y/N: Yoongi, you’re drunk. Text me when you’re sober.

Not long after your message he tries calling again. It pains you to do it but you let it go to voicemail. Nothing he says right now is going to keep you from combusting.

So you try to occupy yourself with a few episodes of trashy reality TV until you think you’re tired enough to go to bed. Yoongi hadn’t texted or called again. You hoped it was because he went home. Your brain strayed to some other girl catching his attention at whatever club he was at. Imagined her taking his mind off of you and his phone.

You bite your lip to stem off the ridiculous tears that spring into your eyes at the thought. He’s not yours, you remind yourself again.

The incredibly overwhelming sense of deja vu hits you when your ringing phone wakes you in the early hours of the morning. Yoongi’s face is on your screen. Maybe it’s because your brain is more than half asleep or because part of you is desperate to know if he went home alone that you answer the call.

You were grateful that you didn’t immediately hear the noise of pounding bass and drunk people in the background. But you do hear traffic noise, lots of it.

“Yoongi?”

“Y/N, what time is it?” His voice is still heavy with alcohol and you wince.

“It’s like one in the morning, Yoongi. Where are you?”

“Fuck. I told you I wouldn’t call you like this again.” He mumbles and you can imagine his lips forming that adorable pout. You have to shake your head out of that thought process when you hear a car horn too close for comfort.

“Yoongi, listen to me. Where are you? Are you safe?”

There’s a moment of silence as you imagine him looking around. “I’m- near the um, that corner store where you spilled soda all over me that one time. ‘member?”

“Yeah, I remember. Yoongi, can you get yourself a ride? You should go home and sleep this off.”

He continues talking, as if he didn’t hear you. And maybe he didn’t. He sounded just like that night, months ago. Who knows how much he’s had to drink. “You were so… so flustered and I-I remember you asking me how much my shirt cost because you were worried you wouldn’t be able to pay me back. And I told you it was just a regular t-shirt but really it cost $300 and I never told you that. And you were so cute. You were stuttering, and your cheeks were so red.”

“You- you kept trying to clean me up and everyone in the store was staring. I kind of realized then that you were maybe the cutest girl I had ever seen. Like, the cutest. But I didn’t… I didn’t know how to say that. Because I don’t like people and there are very few that I choose to spend time around.”

While (a very large) part of you loved this confession, you know it didn’t count. He was so incredibly drunk and would probably not remember any of this in the morning. And since you couldn’t see him, all your brain can imagine is that he’s about to stumble into traffic at any moment.

“Yoongi please. I need you to put me on speaker while you get yourself a taxi. I need to know you’re safe.”

He cuts himself off. All of a sudden the traffic noise is much louder so he must’ve put you on speaker. He grumbles as he’s tapping through the app. “Y/N thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“You’re welcome, Yoongi.” Your voice comes out whisper-soft and he might not have heard you over the rushing cars,

He must take you off speaker because he’s easier to hear again. “Says it should be here in ten minutes.”

You exhale, not even realizing how worried you had been. “Okay, good.”

“You interrupted me, you know.” Again, you can picture the pout on his face so clearly.

You chuckle a little, leaning back against your headboard. “You’re right I did.”

“Where was I?” You notice his Daegu accent is slipping in the more he talks. You wish it didn’t affect you as much as it did. “Oh, that people suck. Not you though, Y/N. You don’t suck and I’ve been scared to tell you that because I love our friendship. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

Your heart flutters. You try to keep reminding yourself not to read too much into this. He’s drunk and has never said anything along these lines when he’s sober. He’s had all the opportunity. But maybe you’re a masochist because you ask. “Fuck what up, Yoongi?”

He sighs. “I hate that I’ve never had the guts to say any of this to you sober. I’m such a coward, Y/N.”

As if you somehow know what he’s going to say, you try to stop him. “Yoongi, wait.”

“I love you, Y/N. I’m fucking stupid because I love you and I can’t even say it to your face.”

Tears sting into your eyes because this feels so surreal and it almost physically pains you to hear the words you’ve been dreaming about for so long.

You think you hear him getting into the cab when a car door slams shut and the traffic noise is much more muffled. “I fucking love you, Y/N,” he sighs happily, like he’s glad to have it off his chest.

You have to steel yourself because you can feel your brain slipping into La La Land. “Yoongi, you are drunk. Hang up and call me when you’re sober.”

He chuckles a little. “So bossy. Just because I’m hanging up, doesn’t mean I’ll forget that I love you,” he croons.

“Christ,” you mutter under your breath and hang up.

You flop against your pillows and try to calm your racing heart. What. The. Fuck.

In all of your fantasies about Yoongi you had never let yourself imagine he would say those words to you. It was too painful.

It was painful even now. Until you could talk to Yoongi face to face, you couldn’t know what he meant, if he meant any of it at all. So you were reminding yourself of this, to keep yourself sane as you lay spread eagle on your bed. Wondering what you did in your past life to deserve this kind of emotional turmoil.

When there’s a knock on your door. And a very drunk Yoongi calling your name through the cheap wood.

You run to the door to let him in before he wakes up any of your nosy neighbors. When you open the door, Yoongi almost falls across the threshold. You reach out on instinct to steady him and close the door promptly behind him.

“Would you shut up?” you hiss.

As he straightens and sees you, he gets this lazy smile on his face.

You decide to speak first and cut off whatever thought process he had. “What are you doing here?”

Yoongi pouts and rubs a thumb across your cheek. “I missed you.”

“You were supposed to go home Yoongi.”

“Didn’t want to,” he shrugs.

You sigh, knowing you didn’t have the heart to kick him out when he was like this. “Fine. Will you at least take a shower before you crash? You stink.”

“You just want me naked,” he says, waggling his eyebrows at you.

Instead of answering him, you turn to your room to get him a change of clothes. If he were anyone else, if he hadn’t just told he loved you- this would be hilarious. You would never let Yoongi live this down.

But it wasn’t someone else. It was Yoongi. And not only had he told you he loved you, it seems like he already forgot about it. He was so unaware of the spiral you were in it was painful.

He was struggling with his boots when you made your way back into the living room. You swallow back the lump in your throat as you kneel in front of him.

You nudge his hands away and make quick work of the laces.

“Y/N.” When you look up, you’re struck with the clarity in his gaze. You’re not sure what changed in the time it took you to get him some clothes but the flirty Yoongi was gone.

His eyes were still dropping and he was a little sideways on your couch but he seemed more like Yoongi again.

“What?” you ask and wince when your voice cracks.

“I meant it.”

Your eyes close and you sit back on your heels to give yourself some distance. “Yoongi, please.”

He doesn’t say anything more and when you finally open your eyes again, he’s running a hand over his face. “Okay,” he sighs. Then he grabs the clothes from off the floor and disappears into the bathroom.

How did things get so complicated so quickly?

This was exactly the kind of situation you were hoping to avoid all these years. You roughly wipe your eyes to stop any tears from falling before getting to your feet.

You hear the shower turn on as you make up the couch, tucking sheets into the cushion and bringing out extra pillows. And then you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your first instinct is to go close yourself in your room and not come out until he’s gone in the morning.

You knew you could never do that though. You’d never been good at ignoring Yoongi. It was unclear if other people experienced this kind of magnetism towards him, but you were hopeless.

Because of the war going on in your brain, you were still sitting on the couch when Yoongi walked back down the hallway. And - in a word - oof.

The clothes were his, some you’d stolen a long time ago but he’d put on a muscle since then so the shirt was a little tight. His damp hair hung a little longer, hanging into his eyes a little bit.

The shower seemed to do him some good, he looked a little more alert. More himself.

You watch him warily and tuck your knees into your chest. He takes a seat opposite you on the coffee table. Then you two sit there, not looking at and not talking to each other.

Then Yoongi heaves a heavy sigh and you dare to look at him. “Y/N…” He doesn’t seem to have more to say than that.

You turn to look at him. “Yoongi, I’m exhausted. Can we talk in the morning?”

He nods, shoulders sagging. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.”

You shoot up from the couch, ready to get out of this tense atmosphere. “I brought out sheets and blankets. And there’s a stack of pillows there. If you need anything else, you know where everything is.”

“Y/N.” Yoongi’s hand reaches out, maybe to stop you or grab you. You just dart a few paces away. You had no resolve left and you were pretty sure if he touched you at this point that would just crumble.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Yoongi.”

His sighs and it ruffles your hair, sends a shiver down your back. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

The next morning, as the sun shone brightly through your curtains, you were praying for a sinkhole to open underneath your apartment building and swallow you whole. Or maybe like a stray asteroid could come in through your window. Less casualties that way. Anything to get you out of this conversation with Yoongi.

You hadn’t slept all night, trying to decode Yoongi’s words and your own feelings. You’d been squashing them down for so long, trying to make them as small and inconsequential as possible.

It was sometime after the sky started to turn pink that you truly allowed yourself to accept how much you love Min Yoongi. How much you always have.

For as long as you can remember, you have cherished every moment with him. Your movie nights. When you could bring your laptop to his studio and listen to him produce music while you worked. Getting late night coffees at the same cafe you first met.

The list goes on.

Now it was just a matter of figuring out if Yoongi really did… love you. You know that saying “drunk words are sober thoughts.” And maybe it was true in this case. But what if he just meant he loved you as a friend?

Really, it wasn’t that far fetched. You have never met a more emotionally guarded person than Yoongi. He didn’t even want to admit to being friends until after you threatened to send a video of him dressed up as his female counterpart “Yoonji” to Dispatch.

In short, you were getting nowhere fast. Which is why you finally kicked yourself out from under your sheets to make some coffee. Coffee always helps right?

A quick peek into the living room and you can see Yoongi curled up on the couch, still out.

You tiptoe past him and into the kitchen. You start to brew a pot of coffee and let the comforting smell wash over you. It seemed to rouse Yoongi as well. Over the back of the couch you see him stretch his arms, groaning as he does it.

You pour two mugs of coffee and give him time to fully wake up.

He shuffles into the kitchen, one eye cracked open and trying to smooth his hair down with his hands. “Morning,” he mumbles.

You wordlessly hand him a mug of plain black coffee. He hums gratefully and takes a large gulp.

Not for the first time you internally coo at his early-morning grumpiness. His eyes are puffy and his hair is sticking up in multiple directions despite his efforts. You sip your own coffee and try to figure out how to start this conversation.

Yoongi leans against the opposite of the island counter and looks at you over the rim of his mug. “So.”

“So,” you agree. And then leap into it. “You remember everything you said last night?”

He takes another large gulp of his coffee before setting the mug down. “I do.”

You lean your elbows down on the counter and grip onto your mug with both hands to have something to ground you. “Okay.”

Yoongi looks at you, eyes wary. You can’t look at him, can’t be the one that says something that ruins this friendship.

“Y/N… can we just forget it?”

Your eyes fall closed. You wonder at the same time if it’s possible for your heart to fall out of place in your chest because it no longer feels like it’s there. “Yeah,” you force out of your vocal chords. “Let’s forget it.”

“I just- it was wrong for me to say those things. To you. While I was so… out of it.” Yoongi sighs. “Will you look at me? Please?”

He’s staring at you, fully awake now. His gaze is imploring, like his words are saying one thing but his eyes are trying to tell you something else.

“Y/N, your friendship is one of the most important things in my life. You found me when I was in a shitty place and couldn’t find any real people to be around. Everyone wanted to know Agust D, they didn’t give a fuck about me. I can’t lose that, I can’t lose you-”

You take another drink from your mug to distract you and to hopefully hide the tears building in your eyes. This was the most likely scenario, you knew that. But you had still allowed yourself to hope for the best.

“I get it Yoongi. You love me, as a friend.”

He makes this noise in the back of his throat and comes around the island towards you.

On instinct you back away, trying to keep the distance. You throw your hands up when your back hits the counter behind you. “Yoongi, please don’t-”

He immediately stops a few feet away from you. “This is exactly what I didn’t want,” he says, voice breaking a little on the last words. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

You realize that the tears in your eyes have fallen so you wipe them away hastily. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Yoongi frowns, “You’re crying so it’s not fine.” He looks at you with such concern that it hurts. Like he would do anything to fix it if he could.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” you say weakly.

“Like what?”

You are exhausted, mentally and physically. So your filter is gone. And you blurt, “If we’re going to be just friends, I can live with that but that means you can’t look at me like that. Like you love me more than that.”

Yoongi just looks at you, jaw slack. “Let me be perfectly clear, Y/N. If we’re going to be just friends I am going to be the one living with it. Because…” he sighs and closes his eyes, as if to collect himself. “Because I do love you more than that.”

If your heart hadn’t fallen out of place earlier it certainly did in that moment. “What?” you squeak.

He takes a cautious step towards you. “Last night, I meant everything I said. I’ve never been brave enough to say it to your face, but I have been in love with you for the better part of three years. It wasn’t fair of me to say all of that to you or to show up here and have you take care of me. And I mean it, we can be friends. Because I’d rather be friends than nothing at all. But since we’re here I might as well get it all off my chest, even if it means I never mention it again. At least that way I can finally breathe again.”

Your chest heaves with panicked breaths as you absorb everything he just said. This time there wasn’t any way to misconstrue his words. No doubt about the meaning. Yoongi had just laid himself bare in front of you.

“Idiots,” you mutter.

Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up past his hairline. “What?”

“We are idiots,” you say and a somewhat manic laugh slips its way past your lips. When you see the hurt cross his face, you step closer and clap a hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, Yoongi.”

He pulls back a step and the action sobers you immediately. “We are both complete idiots, Yoongi. Because I’ve never been brave enough either. Brave enough to tell you that you are what kept me sane during my intern year. That getting to see you is the best part of my day. And I’ve never told you I love you because I was terrified of you not feeling the same way.”

“Idiots,” he muses. Yoongi looks at you, eyes darting everywhere as if looking for the lie. His lips slowly curl into a smile when he doesn’t seem to find one. He closes the gap between you, cradling your face in his hands.

When he presses his lips to yours, it’s gentle. The tenderness makes your eyes slip shut, makes every time you’ve ever dreamt about this in the past pale in comparison. You could never have imagined how perfect it would feel when his hands roam the planes of your body, wrap around your waist and pull you flush against him.

The closeness has you overwhelmed, whimpering into his mouth. You find yourself craving even more contact, pull yourself infinitesimally closer by wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

Yoongi pushes against you, making you stumble back a few steps until you hit the counter. Without missing a beat, his hands move from your waist down to your thighs. He grips the flesh there and hoists you up onto the countertop.

You gasp at the lift, legs wrapping around his hips for anchorage. Yoongi takes advantage and licks his way into your open mouth. You let him take the lead, feeling wholly overwhelmed by the way he kisses you. Your fingers thread in his hair, tugging on the roots when the sensations become too much.

Yoongi groans, pressing his lips harder to yours for another second before pulling away. He immediately presses another chaste kiss to your lips before leaning his forehead on yours.

You don’t open your eyes right away, almost afraid he won’t be there when you open them.

“Y/N,” he whispers. Your heart flops over, probably somewhere down near your appendix at this point. “We really are idiots.”

You smile, finally looking back at him. You tighten your legs around him, your body’s way of telling him he wasn’t allowed to go anywhere. Yoongi’s eyes slip shut as he lets out a hiss. “Woman, you’ve gotta stop doing that.”

“Why?” you smirk.

“Because all I’ve thought about for years is being able to love you like I want to. I want to love you in every way you deserve to be loved. But I also haven’t slept in days. I haven’t slept a full night since I was here last, for movie night. If you keep doing that I’m going to take you right here and it won’t be my A game.” He kisses you slowly, making your toes curl in. “I want to give you my A game.”

You smile fondly at the rant but relent, dropping your legs to either side of his hips. Your fingertips trace the shadows under his eyes “I haven’t slept well either. Since that night.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispers, slumping into you.

“Don’t be,” you say as you comb your fingers through his hair. “How about a nap? Because I too want nothing less than your A game.”

Yoongi straightens and glares at you. You put a hand on his chest and push lightly. He backs up enough for you to hop down from the counter. You take one of his hands in yours, taking a second to appreciate how easily they fit together.

“What, you’re not going to make me sleep on the couch again?” Yoongi says as you lead him to your room.

“I’m still not fully convinced this is all real.” You turn and pull him close again. “Until I am I need you to stay close to me. So no more couch.”

Yoongi smiles softly. “I can do that.” He kisses your forehead sweetly.

He audibly groans as he climbs into your bed beside you. You roll your eyes at him. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You try sleeping on that couch. Whoever talked you into that couch is a nutjob.”

You smack his chest. “You convinced me to buy that couch!”

Yoongi shrugs, grinning softly. You smack him once more for good measure. Then you give into the instinct your body has been screaming for, which is to snuggle into him. You get comfortable with your head resting on his chest and one of your legs tangled between his. Your fingers fist into the material of his shirt on their own volition.

He pulls you closer with the arm that’s under you, not seeming to be satisfied until every gap between the two of you is gone.

“From now on, let’s be idiots together, okay?”

Yoongi chuckles and drops a lingering kiss on the top of your head. “Deal.”

#min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #suga x reader #min yoongi x y/n #suga x y/n #min yoongi #suga #bts x reader #bts #bts imagines #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi angst #min yoongi domestic #agust d #angst with fluff #angst with a happy ending

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cluelessgurl · 3 years

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Hey guys, this is like my first fic ever so I hope you like it. I’d love any feedback as it always helps. Enjoy :)

This was requested by the lovely @jedicatt

You and Him

Pairing- Anakin Skywalker X Female Reader

Summary- You are the outspoken representative of Alderaan and the sister of Bail Organa. When you are under threat, you are put under Jedi protection by no other than Anakin.

Warnings- None :)

Words- 2.7K

The luscious green, peaceful world of Alderaan had been your home since birth. Growing up under the success of your brother Bail meant you always wanted to follow his footsteps, and as you grew older your passion for politics was apparent. You were well-spoken but people would always describe you as fiery, you knew you had to stand up for what you believed in and sometimes that got you in trouble. Like the time, when you as a representative of Alderaan beside your brother Bail spoke out against malicious ways of the Trade federation quite blatantly, so much so, your brother swore he heard hundreds of gasps echoing through the senate. This was definitely one of the times you caused yourself trouble, but this time you swore you'd never take it back because this time, you met him.

‘I don't understand why there's any need for this!’ you gasped out you as scurried to catch up to Bail who was currently huffing down the corridors of the senate, ‘Of course you don't, you never understand when I tell you anything, like when I told you to not associate politics and your rather explicit personal view of the Trade federation together yet here we are’ he exclaimed. Smiling up at him ‘Uh yes, however, they deserved everything I suggested about them and you know it Bail and so do hundreds of other delegates. But Jedi protection? That's highly unnecessary and hyperbolic’, he looked down at you sternly but you could see the amusement in his eyes ‘ Well your suggestions have now got us on the tracks of bounty hunters and assassins,we are in danger, and by ‘we’ I mean you specifically. So I suggest this be the time you do listen’ you sighed in defeat, your brother had always been protective of you, he claimed it was due to your ‘outlandish’ ways but you knew it was because he cared for you. As you made it to the docking bay stepping into your yellow speeder, Bail spoke out ‘We’re heading back to the quarters and there we’ll meet our Jedi representative, please try and be polite or say nothing at all, both are fine’ he chucked, you looked up at him with an unamused expression as he turned the speeder around mid-air , why must he always treat you as if you were a child you thought frustratedly,but then proceeded to smirk the way you always did ‘Of course brother, when have I ever disappointed you’ he managed to give you smile before you sped off.

This is my mission, why must Obi-Wan escort me there as if I am a mere youngling, my master is a wise man, but his misunderstandings about my abilities are frustrating to say the least, Anakin’s mind rushed with thoughts as the elevator bolted up towards the quarters when his thread was broken by Obi- Wan ‘You seem a little on edge, nervous for your first mission?’ Anakin turned swifty ‘Not at all’ he replied a little unconvincingly ‘Are you sure? I haven’t felt you this tense since we fell into that nest of Gundarks’ Obi -Wan chipped amused, “Of course” thought Anakin, rolling his eyes, ‘You fell into that nightmare Master, and I rescued you remember?’ Obi-Wan pondered ‘Oh, yes’ followed by a hearty chuckle, this made Anakin smile. He did appreciate all that he and his master had been through, and after all he did care for him, as this thought passed the padawan’s mind,the elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened. Obi-Wan strode into the quarters, Anakin at his heel, if he was being completely honest, this was not the most thrilling first assignment , Aayla told him that she went ventured into the the notorious streets of Corellia as her first mission without Master Tholme, that all changed though, it all changed when he set his eyes on you. You stood there tall, confident with the most mesmerising smile he had ever seen on any species, it made his heart soar even though he’d never met you, though your eyes said different, they shone bright like the suns on Tatooine, like they’d known him for a thousand cycles with a sense of mischief clear, your hair framed your face perfectly like everything about you, perfect that’s what you were to him, perfect. Anakin was lost in you, so much so that he didn’t hear any of the conversation that was taking place, he only came to his senses when Obi-Wan gave him a rather harsh nudge ‘Anakin!’ he muttered. You chuckled softly looking up Bail.Anakin blinked ‘My apologise Senator Organa, and -uh..’ ‘Y/N, Y/N Organa representative of Alderaan’ you replied gleefully ‘Pleasure to meet you Master Kenobi and Anakin’, you must admit to yourself, when you thought you were going to be under Jedi protection, your imagination took you to the likes of Master Yoda,you did not expect men like Obi-Wan and Anakin who were quite frankly, far too dashing. Maybe this would be fun after all.

After brief discussion, it was decided that you were to be escorted back to Alderaan to the family country house under Anakin’ protection. Following a small , private bicker with Bail about sending you away from the Senate, you gave in and said your goodbyes to him and Master Kenobi and waited for Anakin to do the same. ‘I have faith in you Anakin, keep Y/N safe and don’t do anything without discussing with me or the council first’ Obi-Wan spoke somewhat tense himself ‘I assure you, I will master’ Anakin replied with a strange determination in his eyes, ‘Well then,you best hurry’.

As you two settled down in the surroundings of your passenger starship, covered by unknown faces, Anakin took it upon himself to get to know you. ‘So, what is a lady like you doing as a representative in the senate?’ he quipped, the smile you gave him yet again brought warmth to his heart, ‘Well, I have a tendency to speak my mind, so I thought why not put it to good use?’ you noticed how Anakin’s face sweetly scrunched up as he let out a most sincere chuckle ‘How about you? What is a flyboy like you doing at the Jedi temple’ you asked out of genuine curiosity ‘I was found in Tatooine at a very young age, the temple is all I’ve known since then.’he replied plainly ‘Must be difficult, having sworn your life to the Jedi, not being able to visit the places you like or do things you like’ ‘Or be with the people that I like’ he interrupted with a expression you couldn’t quite decipher, he was proving to be more and more alluring, you decided to let it pass. Changing the topic, you spoke mischievously ‘What do you like to do , apart from being the mighty defenders of the Republic?’ Anakin grinned he found you rather humorous, it lifted his spirits ‘We don’t have much time for hobbies but I'm good at fixing things I always have been , I used to pod race back in Tatooine’ he observed that you seemed to perk up that ‘What?’ Anakin inquired smiling with curiosity, you replied with a proud smirk ‘I pod race too actually, I have since I was little’ Anakin was pleasantly surprised, his earlier interpretation of you being perfect was only proving itself to be true ‘Really? I’m impressed, your talents only add to your ravishing beauty’ Anakin replied with the same mischievous grin that adorned your face earlier. You replied with a quaint smile, trying to disregard the heat rushing to your cheeks, nobody had ever spoken to like that, not in the way he spoke to you.

As the starship was just about to land, you stared out of the window you couldn't lie, you did miss home. Anakin stared at you whilst you peered out the window with a smile reaching high up to your cheeks. He must admit, Alderaan was an exquisite planet but to him, nothing compared to your bewitching beauty. Anakin knew he shouldn’t let his mind wander to thoughts such as these, he was a Jedi, he was supposed to be void of attachments. Y/N turned around, her hair gliding across her back ‘Come Anakin, I’ve got lots to show you’ stripping Anakin of his thoughts ‘ Of course Milady’ he smirked through his reply.

Y/N and Anakin spent most of the morning discussing, and jesting around about their strict lives back in Coruscant. Y/N showed Anakin her pod racer that she had previously built, Anakin seemed more and more invested in her life, slowing getting lost in the way she talked, smooth and resilient, like she believed in everything she said, even if she did say some questionable things which only made him laugh like he hadn’t in years. Currently, they were sat down at the table, feasting on some Starblossom fruit, an Alderaan speciality. Just as Anakin made the fruit float your mind also floated to a thought ‘Are you allowed to love?’ I sputtered out, Blast! What was that Y/N?, this was the first time you regretted being so vocal, this was sure to make things awkward ‘I mean, isn’t it forbidden for a jedi?’. You were surprised when he simply just smiled at you, his eyes looking straight into your own, they were blue and deep like the oceans of Mon Calamari, completely mesmerised ,you sighed softly, ‘Attachment is forbidden. Possession is forbidden. Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is central to a Jedi’s life’ he smirked ‘So you might say that we are encouraged to love’ if you weren’t already completely lost in him, you were now, nobody had ever left you speechless like he had now, silent at his fingertips. Just by using a number of words, there was something so special about him.

The next morning Anakin was woken with the bright sun rays shining upon his eyes and by the roar of your pod racer, pod racer? Anakin quickly changed and jogged out towards the sound, it seemed to be taking him in the direction of the Alderaanian flame-rose fields you had shown him yesterday. There he saw you, standing under the warm sun, you looked ethereal. Your skin glowing, your lips appeared so soft, so comforting, he swore he had never seen anything more beautiful. He noticed it wasn’t just one pod racer that was stagnant by your side, but a second one, now he matched the smirk jeweled on your face. ‘You said you used to pod race so I thought, why not test your skills?’ he smiled so fully, his face felt tight as a tied rope ‘Oh really? I wouldn’t want to undermine your abilities, Milady' ‘Don’t you worry about that Anakin, you don’t want to underestimate me’ ‘Of course, I wouldn’t dare’ he laughed content. Ah that laugh, it made your heart want to jump out and fly away, it made your day already. You both buckled up into your pods, making sure all the dials are at the correct calibration, gave each other one last glance and a signature smirk and sped off, you both doing unnatural speeds to the passing eye, dipping under trees and spinning to reach higher altitudes. Anakin was staying right beside you, almost harmlessly mocking you, you recalibrated the ignition switch and sped off, Anakin raised his eyebrows in surprise, he was genuinely impressed but his competitive side got the best of him, soon he met your speed. The finishing line by the trees was dangerously close you both looked at each other, eyes locked with determination and lips spilling with playful laughter, however, as you and Anakin were lost in each other,you failed to notice the flock of Nerfs herding around grass, you spotted them at the last second and tilted your racer up towards the sky. The finishing line was right ahead, Anakin was mere inches away and you were adamant on winning so, you jumped out of your pod. You steered towards the line and crossed it seconds before Anakin, landing on a patch of flame roses. Anakin’s eyes widened, he abandoned the pod and dashed towards you figure, laying face front ‘Y/N!, Y/N’ he rolled you over, only to hear you burst out laughing, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in ‘You should have seen your face! Your soul left your body, I swear’ you let out holding your stomach ‘Of course I was! Obi-Wan would have killed me if I let anything happen to you’ Anakin spoke out between chuckles, trying to hide his anxiety ‘Hmm I think not,I think you're terrified at the thought of anything happening to me’ you smirked. Anakin started into your eyes, shook his head and said nothing, but he started tickling your sides which only made you giggle further, you both rolled down the field, roaring with laughter. Anakin had never felt this happy and untroubled before in his life, as you both laid on the grass, the scent of roses brimming in the air, basking under the sun, you and him both letting out sighs of contentment, hands intertwined.

It was late at night, you were restlessly tossing and turning in your bed, your mind was whirling with thoughts of him, his smile, the way he spoke to you and only you, his golden hair glowing in the heat of the sun, his Padawan braid that you’d twirl between your fingers, you giggled yourself; you never had feelings like these sitting in the center of your heart, but it didn’t feel wrong. Your heart took you to the place it always took you when your mind was wandering like this.

Anakin felt your restlessness, his concern grew and grew until he had to come find you, you were right, he was terrified at the thought of anything happening to you. He gave in and, walked timidly towards your room, when you didn't answer to his knock, his anxiety took control. He composed himself and searched his feelings like his master had taught him, he let the force be his guide in search for your signature he’d progressed to love. Anakin's legs finally led him to the roof, where he saw you lying there on the ground under the lights of the stars ‘Y/N, are you okay? I couldn’t find you’, you replied with a simple ‘Join me’, Anakin didn’t hesitate and laid down beside you, he looked up at the glittering stars scattered in the sky of Alderaan, there was a gentle breeze, the scent of roses still following the both of you, then he turned to face you, he watched your chest rise and fall, his anxiety disappearing slowly just at the sight of you, you radiated beauty, charm and confidence, everything he had grown to love about you ‘I come here when my mind runs wild with thoughts’ you spoke out gently, you turned to look at him only to find him already looking at you. ‘What are you thinking about?’ Anakin inquired softly, you stared into his eyes, still bright and blue even in the shadow of dusk, you uttered timidly ‘You' he gave you a wide smile, ‘You’re all I think about Y/N, I love you’ he spoke barely above a whisper, so much so, that you wouldn’t have heard him if your faces weren’t so close and they only got closer when you replied with ‘I love you, with all of my heart’, the small gap between you and him started to close ever so slowly, shaky breaths falling from the both of your lips until they met with a chaste kiss.

You’d never regret the trouble you’d caused yourself that day at the senate, because you‘d always remember his deep eyes staring back at your own all those times, you’d never regret it because you met him. Anakin knew he’d never let you go, his other half he’d met on his first assignment, he’d never forget your face illuminated by the stars, the pure beauty of your face and mind. And for you both, it’d always be you and him.

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars #hayden christensen #female reader #reader insert

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swanlake1998 · 3 years

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Article: Julie Felix: the brilliant Black ballerina who was forced to leave Britain

Date: March 3, 2021

By: Steve Rose

(CW: racism, anti black racism, police brutality, violence, murder mention)

She was told there was no room for a ‘brown swan’ in the London Festival Ballet, so she went to the US. There she found enormous success, dancing for everyone from Michael Jackson to Prince

The turning point in Julie Felix’s career came in 1975. A student at Rambert ballet school in London, she was selected to dance in Rudolf Nureyev’s production of Sleeping Beauty with the London Festival Ballet (now the English National Ballet). Nureyev was the god of British ballet – and he lived up to his reputation on the first day of rehearsal, Felix recalls. “He was late, but everybody said he was always late. All of a sudden, the doors flew open and in he came. He was well renowned for these big boots he used to wear, and a big fur coat. He took the coat off like a matador and threw it so it slid across the dance studio floor. Everybody jumped up and stood to attention. He was there for probably about half an hour.” At the time, 17-year-old Felix was awestruck. In hindsight, half a century later, she is less impressed: “Talk about unprofessional.”

In the fairytale version of Felix’s life, having acquitted herself on stage with Nureyev, she would have joined the London Festival Ballet and become the first Black British dancer to begin her ascent through the ranks of a British ballet company. Instead, she was told she was a “lovely dancer”, but was not going to be given a contract, “because of the colour of my skin. I would mess up the line of the corps de ballet, because you can’t have a whole row of white swans and then there’s a brown one at the end.”

Felix was stunned: “It hit me like a thunderbolt.” Her mother was white British and her father African-Caribbean, from Saint Lucia. She had never thought of the refined world of ballet as being what we might now describe as institutionally racist. “It sounds ridiculous, but because I didn’t experience any racial issues or difficulties before that, I didn’t think there was anything wrong with the colour of my skin. I thought that I was talented and that would be enough.”

Having grown up in Ealing, west London, in the 60s, Felix certainly knew about racial difference. She rarely saw any faces that were not white in the neighbourhood or at school, she says. After her parents had met on a bench in Hyde Park, her mother’s family disapproved. “They said: ‘If you marry that man, we’re going to disown you.’ And my mum just said: ‘Well, fair enough, I still want to marry him.’”

Her father, who worked as a foreman at the Hoover factory, was quite the charmer, says Felix. “He was the proudest man. He would paint the front door a different colour every year. He was always up the ladder washing his windows. He would grow fruits and vegetables in the back garden. But I would say my dad had a big chip on his shoulder.”

She describes how he would dress like a dandy, in 40s suits and spats, even if he was just going to do the shopping. “He would always berate the grocers and say: ‘You’re picking the bruised fruit and vegetables because I’m Black. You think I can’t see this?’” She laughs. “Why would you move somewhere if you’re going to spend your life being concerned about the way other people look at you and your colour?”

There was an incident when she was eight or nine, when her father returned from work very late, his shirt ripped and covered in blood. A colleague had attacked him outside the factory gates with a meat cleaver on a chain. “He didn’t like, one, the way my dad spoke to him and, two, because my dad was Black,” she says.

Culturally, the Felix household was “100% British”, she says. She had no connection to her Saint Lucian family, although she would see her British grandparents in Essex regularly (relations had thawed when Felix’s elder sister and she were born). Musically, her father liked American crooners such as Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole; her mother preferred classical music and had once aspired to be an opera singer. “So, when it came to my wanting to dance, there was a local ballet school around the corner in Ealing that I would go to, and Mum said: ‘Well, as long as you keep working hard and you’re enjoying it, I will fund it for you.’ She wasn’t a pushy, stereotypical ballet mother, but she knew that I loved it. And because she’d been stopped doing what she wanted to do, she was there 100% for me.” When she passed the audition for the Rambert, her parents could not afford the fees; Felix won a grant from the Inner London Education Authority, which paid 75%.

Felix says no one is “born to dance”, but, as a student, her passion for ballet was boundless. “I can remember the feeling of waking up in the morning, earlier than I needed to, getting on the underground and going into Notting Hill Gate, where the school was. I was the first one in the door. The cleaner was still there.

“I could not get enough of it. My friend and me would stretch and practise our fouettés in the lunch break. We’d be the last ones out of the building. Get back on the train, go home. My feet would be bleeding. I’d have blisters all over my toes. And I didn’t care. I just knew this was what was required. I soaked my feet in salt water, dabbed surgical spirit on them to get the skin to heal and get them dried out so that I could get up the next morning and get on that train again.”

After all her dedication, being rejected for her colour was devastating. “It didn’t last long, mind you,” she says. “Part of my personality is: sink or swim. And I thought: ‘I am not going to sink here.’ So I just flipped it around and just said: ‘Watch me. I’m going to show you I can do it.’”

She didn’t have to wait too long. The previous summer, the Dance Theatre of Harlem (DTH) had come to perform in London. This was a pioneering Black ballet company founded in 1969 by Arthur Mitchell, the first top-flight Black dancer in US ballet. While they were in town, Felix went along, auditioned for Mitchell and was immediately offered a contract. She declined. When her teacher at Rambert found out, “she absolutely hit the roof”, Felix recalls. “She said: ‘You can’t pick and choose. You’ve been offered a job!’” Fortunately, the DTH returned to London a few months after her Nureyev experience. Felix auditioned and was offered a job a second time. She did not turn it down.

This time, Felix’s skin colour was to her advantage, although working with an all-Black company in the US was a curious reversal: “I’d gone from all of my ballet training, and growing up not really being aware of anything to do with Black people, to going to New York and there’s no white people.” Before relocating to New York, Felix had never had a passport, left the UK or flown in an aeroplane.

“Within two weeks of being there, Arthur Mitchell said to me: ‘We’ve got to knock the British out of you.’ And I took umbrage, because I’m really proud of being British,” Felix says. In retrospect, she knows what he meant: “It was the wishy-washy way I approached my technique and my ballet training. But it wasn’t just about that; it was everything that Arthur Mitchell taught and portrayed and wanted us to portray within our work. He wanted to show that Black people really can do this.”

DTH’s sense of purpose aligned with Felix’s own. She stayed with the company for 10 years, earning her place as a soloist and touring the US and beyond (including a satisfying return to the Royal Opera House). Life in the US put British racism into perspective, says Felix. In her first week in New York, she witnessed a young Black man being shot dead in the street by two white police officers for shoplifting. A touring performance in Mississippi in 1978 had to be cancelled because the Ku Klux Klan staged a protest outside the theatre, in white hoods, burning cross and all. “No words can describe that feeling,” she says.

There were more good times than bad, though. Felix shared the stage with, and danced for, luminaries from Ronald Reagan to her hero, Luciano Pavarotti. She danced with Lionel Richie to All Night Long at the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics closing ceremony; visitors to her shows included Michael Jackson and Prince. Jackson wanted to cast the dancers in his ill-fated Peter Pan movie, she says. He came to a matinee in Pasadena, California, supposedly incognito, but in full Jackson regalia: black sunglasses, Jheri curl and military-style outfit, with a complement of bodyguards. “I was annoyed, because I was there to deliver the performance, but you had all these girls screaming in the audience,” says Felix. “Anyway, after it finished, he came backstage and said to us, very, very quietly: ‘I really enjoyed your performance. I just think you’re fantastic.’ What a humble man.”

A year later, Prince came to a show, by coincidence at the same theatre. He was similarly “incognito”, in a sequined, hooded purple cape. He never took the hood down. “At the end of the performance, he got back in his limo and left and didn’t say thank you, hello, anything. Really quite rude.”

By 1986, aged 30, Felix was beginning to feel the physical toll of ballet life. She also missed home. She returned to the UK and became a teacher and remedial coach for Sadler’s Wells Royal Ballet, first in London, then in Birmingham, where the company relocated when it became Birmingham Royal Ballet, in 1990. She married and had three daughters (none of whom followed in their mother’s footsteps).

She then became head of dance at a local school. Now it was her turn to “knock the British out” of her students. “They don’t seem to know how to really push themselves,” she says. “Ballet is really painful. If you don’t feel that, then you’re not doing it properly.” Ballet has also always required a highly specific form of physicality, Felix points out. “It needs very arched feet, it requires good natural rotation of your hip sockets, a slender body, long, lithe muscles, long neck, small head.” Regardless of talent or musicality, she says, dancers who do not conform to this body type will struggle. Perhaps it is this inherent discrimination that has made other forms of prejudice easier to disguise.

British ballet has made some progress since the 70s, but it could do more. Birmingham Royal Ballet, for example, had a successful workshop programme with local schools, whose pupils were often from Black, Asian or minority ethnic backgrounds, but such programmes seem to have “fizzled out” as a result of local authority budget cuts, Felix says. On the other hand, there are institutions such as Ballet Black, which advocates for diversity in professional ballet. At the time of its founding in 2001, there were still no women of colour performing in any British company. The Royal Ballet recruited its first Black, British-born male dancer, Solomon Golding, only in 2013.

Felix is not convinced British ballet has turned the corner: “I still believe that we’ve got ballet companies who will take a few people of colour just to be politically correct.” However, she was heartened by the appointment of the Cuban-British dancer Carlos Acosta as director of Birmingham Royal Ballet in 2020, although the pandemic has so far curtailed its activities. While all British arts are vulnerable at the moment, ballet – with its high demands for time, labour, space and personnel – is especially so. Now based in Cornwall, Felix has made do teaching over Zoom for the past year. She is not complaining: “It really is a lovely place to be locked down.”

Felix’s skin colour began as a factor that counted against her, but it became an animating force in her career and led to a wealth of experiences and successes she might otherwise not have had. With that satisfaction, the anger she feels for her 17-year-old self being told her brownness would “mess up the line” has mellowed a little. “Their choice of not accepting me enabled me to find something within myself that I probably would never have known was there,” she says. “And then to open up this whole world for me. So I can say that hatred was turned to gratitude.”

#article #julie felix #ballet #anti black racism #racism #murder mention #police brutality mention #antiblackness tw #violence tw

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

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Humans are Space Orcs, “Not like this.”

Hope you guys all have a great day :)

Hijan was sitting on a patch of red moss staring out at the red sky over the distant volcanoes. A dull ache rose up in her carapace, though it was one she could mostly ignore. It was going to rain later, that much she could tell from the red of that distant sky.

Upon her lap lay a long spear chipped and worn with age, though its point was still as sharp as ever.

She heard the footsteps while they were still a ways away, below the bluff. SHe didn’t bother to look up knowing who it was…. The sentinel, her only son: Hasan.

He walked over to where she was standing, but did not sit with her.

She looked up mildly confused.

His face was somber.

“Hasan, is something wrong.”

He bowed his head to her, “Mother, there has been some… news.”

She stood, not liking the sound of this. Her joints were a little stiff, but she managed just fine, “What news?”

Hasan lowered his head, “Word was brought by messenger early this morning. The Drev counselor for the GA is calling the Drev war clans to arms if they would be willing to fight.”

He tapped her spear against the stone, “And how does this concern us?” her son had always been a believer in the old ways, and was generally not interested in the outside politics of non-drev nations.

He lowered his head, “Mother… I… we received word. He’s dead.”

Hijan crossed her arms, a little habit she had picked up from her other son (adopted son) a human, “Who?”

“Tanan…. Uh…. Tsata, he’s dead.”

A quiet crept over them. Tsata: the name of that very same adopted human, the small helpless, squishy human she had helped turn into a warrior.

“What?”

“They were attacked by an enemy called the Burg.His ship was destroyed, and he was lost.”

Hijan blinked, staring at her son. Something about this didn’t seem real. Perhaps it was the way that her son talked about the outsider, in a way of respect she had never seen. How he lowered his head at the mention of his name, “Was his death honorable?” She finally wondered.

The pause grew even longer and she saw the answer in his face before he spoke, “The burg tricked them. They distracted the rest and set up a machine to do the work for them…. Their tactics were dishonorable.”

Hijan felt her hands clench, but she did not go to move, instead stepping forward slightly. She rested a hand on the shoulder of her son, “Thank you for bringing this to me.” She said softly, “I know my love for him has always confused you.”

Hasan shook his head, “No mother, I understand .”

They didn’t say more than that, and hijan moved quickly back to her hut.

She stood in the open doorway for a long moment before moving inside and picking u her things, pulling on the old armor crafted for her by her father once long ago. She picked up her battle partner’s old spear and rested it against her shoulder before turning from the door and stepping outside.

The horizon was warm to the east, and she began to walk.

SHe was alone for only a few minutes before the clatter of armor followed after her.

She turned , surprised to find,rows of drev warriors following her from the village interior. Even the children came confused their heads turned towards the village.

She paused as Hasan walked over the stone looking regal in his armor, and powerful with the cape billowing at his back.

“What are you doing Hasan?”

“Taking up the call to arms.”

She shook her head, “But our village.” “Can be retaken.”

“Why?”

“They have killed a member of our clan, thus declaring war on us. We will answer the call.”

Hijan was quiet for a moment, then lowered her head in deference to her son thankful, and proud.

He walked past her towards the front fo the column and barked the orders to head out.

***

Eris floated absently from one room to the other. Voices echoed to her from all sides, and she based quietly in the glow of freedom. Floating, she let her hands trail out to the sides ribbons billowing at her back, dark hair rolling around her waist. She was letting it grow out, she thought it made her look nice.

“Give it back!”

“No!” “Its not fair!”

She cracked an eye and floated into the next room.

Glados and Hal were facing off against each other crouched low to the ground, now as big as large dogs, the two of them could cause some mess when they got into a fight.

“WHat is going on here.” She asked

Hal turned, “She stole it and she wont give it back!”

She frowned turning to look at Glados hearing the choleric voice inside her head as she denounced her brother for being a tattle tail.

“Glados, give it back, you have toys of your own.”

“But i WANT that one.”

“We don’t always get what we want gladoes, and we certainly don't take from other people.” Glados sighed but gave it back apologizing only grudgingly when she was ordered to by Eris. Hal stuck out his tongue and scuttled away.

Eris shook her head, Glados was getting better, but her first year of life certainly had not helped her. Living aboard a ship, being raised by a dog, and a struggling human who wasn’t ready for parenthood could do that to a person. Of course, not to say that their father had been bad, he was just…. Young and inexperienced, too much love and not enough discipline for the young spiderlings.

She smiled at the thought. He would probably half freak out if he knew she considered him a father. She had never had one, and he was as good a man as any to pick. She didn’t ind that he couldn’t fulfil that roll, it was more about the knowledge that at least someone cared than anything else.

She sensed rather than saw it coming.

She could hear the internal voice, feel it’s nervous sadness. She owned and made her way over to the facility door pulling it open well before their guests had arrived. She peered outside and as soon as the door was out from between her and the visitors, she froze in shock and horror.

Two people stood before her, a man with spiked green hair, and a tesraki, friends of their father’s, from the LFIL

“No…. no no, it can’t be true.”

The human reached out a hand and gently put a hand on her arm, “I’m sorry.”

“No… no…. He can’t be I… he just can’t.”

Hearing the distress in her voice hal and Glados came scuttling towards the door as did the other hybrids. Glados growled, knowing Eris was upset but not sure why. She put her head in her hands tears rolling down her cheeks, “No.” How was she going to tell them that he was dead? She didn’t believe it herself.

***

Krill floated high in the air.

He hated this, he hated this, he hated every single last moment of it. He hated the big tree things, he hated the animals, he hated the strong breeze, and he certainly hated the pack of roaming land shark things circling below him. Ten days on this planet, ten days in hell where he had been hunted, hounded, and nearly killed repeatedly and to his great and everlasting displeasure. He had looked for the commander but found no sign of him, knowing that it was more than possible they could have landed on different continents.

Krill was pretty sure he was going to die here, and that was not a thought that he particularly enjoyed, but was slowly resigning himself to. HE floated off in the other direction, leaving the circling predators wandering in confusion below him and moved off in another direction.

He was high up now, kind of towards the top of the trees, where he could see large red fruits dangling from their very tops. He had seen red debris on the ground below some of those trees, implying that to spread their seeds they dropped those massive fruits from a few thousand feet like a fruity nuclear warhead.

Not a great way to die, being smashed by giant space fruit in the head.

He sighed.

He was up there for a while before it happened, and watched as a small black dot broke off from the top of one of the trees, at first he assumed it was just something falling to earth, but when the thing picked up on a gust of wind and began heading towards him, he got a bad feeling.

He pushed in mid air doing his best to try and get a better look at whatever it was.

He didn’t like what he saw, as the giant razor beak flying creature winged all the way towards him. He hoped it wasn’t coming towards him ,but was proven wrong almost instantly. He turned around with shock and horror and began floating in the other direction.

It made a loud cawing noise.

It was getting closer

Krill was ongoing to be able to outlast this thing. He turned to factit, watching as the massive creature grew larger in his vision. He was almost upon him now stretching out its talons.

Krill deflated his helium sack, plummeting out from between its grasp and towards the earth.

The creature flew in a confused circle, and krill flailed as the wind shipped past him and the ground rose up to meet him. A sudden burst, and he inflated just before hitting the ground landing with panic and shaking looking around for preditors he was sure had come looking for him.

HE frozen in shock and fear, eyes wide.

***

I sighed and set the radio down. It had been more than a long shot. The radio was pretty strong. Back on earth it could have gotten a message out from the middle of BFE, but it was unlikely to make it very far off an alien planet. I sighed and stowed the thing back in y bag. I knew it had been a long shot for sure, but a gun cn hope.

Besides, I had planned to come up here, on top of this hill anyway, to get a better look of the land. At my side, I carry a large stick, and at the head I have managed to slot a pretty well crafted spearhead into a slot.

It was the only thing Hian had been able to teach me to make.

As it turns out I am horrible at building things.

Like seriously.

I am super shit at it.

But a weapon was better than nothing. Spear in my hand, knife at my belt, and a backpack made out of plant material over one shoulder, I headed down the hill feet shuffling softly through sand. The plant matter slippers I had made weren’t great, but you now what sucks more than Biblical Adam’s wardrobe?

Being stabbed in the foot by a rock.

I am still walking down the hill wondering just how much cancer I am going to have from all this sunlight on my bare chest and back when I hear it, a soft thudding noise, growing louder and louder by the second. I drop my pack and spin around spear at the ready. The ferns behind me rattle and sway, and a moment later a creature comes bursting through the trees heading straight for me.

A surprised scream breaks from my lips as I dive to the side.

The creature lets off a gurgling bugle noise and rushes towards me again. It ahs bright shimmering blue skin and a line of spikes down its back. Two large claw pincers hang at the front of it’s body, and it runs on two back legs. IT charges at me again, and this time I can’t run. It swipes at me with one of its claw things, but I catch it with the edge of my spear.

The wood sends a painful shock wave up into my arms.

It screams and I scream back kicking at it.

I catch it in the stomach and it jolts back, but that only seems to piss it off. It races for me again and I am just barely able to hold it off as it scrambles over sand. Dust is kicked up into the air around us.

I pull away and stab at it with the head of the spear cutting straight into one of its joints and pulling out with a sickening crunch. It screams and lunges for me. I slip on a fallen fern, my leg sliding to the side.

It catches me high on the chest, and a gout of fire seems to erupt from my torso.

I scream in agony and hit my back hard.

IT jumps forward on top of me now its teeth snapping at my neck.

I stick the spear in its mouth.

Its back legs kick and beat my thighs gouging open my left leg.

A burst of agony rips through me. It backs up trying to get the shaft of the spear out of its mouth. In that time I reach down, grab my knife and sit up driving it once, twice, three times into the thing's neck. It staggers back and I leap forward tackling it to the ground and repeatedly stab it.

Over and over and over again.

My teeth are gritted.

I scream like an animal and continue to stab even long after it has stopped moving. Exhaustion overtakes me. I am lying on top of its corpse bloody hand still gripping the knife buried in its neck. My body begins to shake, I am breathing hard. The pain hits me in rolling waves as I look down at myself covered in blood.

I am gasping forehead now resting against its shoulder

I am dead.

I know it

I scream through the pain as I roll to the side leaving great drops of blood behind me. I grab my spear and my knife clawing my way to my feet. I am dragging the bag behind me.

I stagger over the stone.

Ten days

Only ten days.

I limp forward

Trip to my knees blood dripping onto the sand. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

I look up at the sky my vision beginning to fade, and then when I look down my eyes go wide and my heart stops.

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markszone · 4 years

Text

Don’t Need a Lucky Charm

GIF from nakamotens

Summary: Supporting Mark's first boxing match

Pairing: boxer!Mark x female reader

Genre: fluff, fluff, fluff

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.8K

( A/n: couldn’t get this boxer Mark out of my head... enjoy!!❤️)

You and Mark were laying on the couch watching a show to pass time.

“I’m so excited for tonight,” you said, turning around to face your lover.

“I’m nervous,” Mark admitted.

You ran a hand through his smooth brown hair, your hand parting through the soft strands. He was going to his first boxing match after months of training, he has every right to be nervous.

"Win or lose. You'll always be a winner in my eyes," you comforted him.

His arms tightened around your waist. "There's no bigger catch than you, baby." he said with a wink after.

You smiled, feeling all the butterflies erupt, and kissed him.

You turn to look at the clock. "Aren't you supposed to be training?"

"Nah, I don't want to wear myself out," he explained.

He stood up letting go of you and straightened his clothes, he held a hand out to you and you looked at him puzzled.

"I thought you weren't gonna train?" you asked.

"I'm not," he replied "C'mon, let's go to the nearest beach while we still have time."

"Okay," you replied, taking his hand and straightening your clothes as well.

He grabbed the keys while you grabbed a bunch of chips to munch on the way.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yep, c'mon," you replied.

-----

It wasn't a long drive to the beach, you reached there within a few minutes, you stepped outside the salty breeze clouding the air. You loved the beach even though you drove by it plenty of times.

Mark walked around the car and grabbed your hand making a smile light up your face. His fingers laced through yours holding you tightly. He brought your hand to his mouth, his lips brushing your knuckles.

"Can we switch hands?" you asked, you still wanted to eat the potato chips while you walked. He released your hand, and you walked around quickly grabbing his other hand.

He was holding the chips packet with his spare hand while you fed him and yourself with your other hand.

"Summer is coming around, you have any plans?" he asked.

"Maybe just lounge around and just spend time reading," you said, which was exactly what you did every summer.

"I think we should go on a road trip," he suggested.

"I thought we were gonna do that during spring?" you question him.

"I thought about it but I think it's better if I work during spring, save up, and then we go on a road trip for two months," he explained "That means we get to spend more time with each other."

"I like the sound of that," you said.

Mark sat down on the sand and pulled you down on his lap, his arms embracing your torso, resting his chin on your shoulder while you rested your head on the side of his. Watching the waves crash the shore feeling utterly at peace in his arms and near the beach.

"Wouldn't it be cool if a shark washed up on shore?" he asked enthusiastically.

"More terrifying than cool, bub," you muttered.

"You could watch me kill it in order to protect you," he said his arms tightening around you "Would you be impressed, my lady?"

"Considering it would already be dead due to lack of water. I'm pretty sure I could kill it too." you chuckled.

"I suppose this is the downfall of dating someone ten times smarter than you," he sighed.

You faced him and gave him a peck on the cheek. Mark blushing immediately as soon as your lips left his cheek. You smiled at your boyfriend, admiring his boyish smile and red cheeks.

You traced your hand on his jaw wondering just how lucky you were to be with the single most amazing person in the world. You lost track of how long both of you sat there in silence, comfortable silence. The kind that you could only share with certain people and yours was Mark.

"It's so beautiful," you breathe, staring at the sun setting in the distance. The flickers of orange, pink and red mixed in a beautiful swirl illuminating the sky. It was breathtaking.

"You know what's beautiful? Watching you admire something which seems so dull in comparison to your beauty," he whispered softly.

You blushed hard, thinking you were hardly prettier than the sunset, but it was kind of him to say so. You looked down hiding your reddened cheeks.

"I wish you believed me," he said.

He looked at his watch before slowly bringing the both of you up.

"My match will start soon," he informed.

You could already feel the nerves kicking in at the statements so you wondered just how nervous he must feel.

-----

Mark paced around the locker room, his hair put up neatly to avoid the bangs on his face while fighting, and his strong chest on display. You could hear the sound of his name loudly echoing through the room.

"I have to go home. I forgot the dishes," he said suddenly.

He reached for his shirt just as you grabbed it. He looked up at you and just beneath his firm expression you could see the glints of fear.

"Mark you are going to do fine," you whispered, placing your hands on his shoulder.

"How do you know that?" You're not a psychic."

"I don't have to be. You are the strongest and most hardworking person I know and tonight you'll prove tha-"

Your words were cut off by his lips, his lips moved against yours hungrily as though he were saving a piece of you for the match. He pulled back his breath ragged. His forehead pressed against yours.

"I don't need a lucky charm. You are my strength Y/N," he said.

"Then go prove me right, Lee."

He pulled on a pair of blue gloves, and pounded his fists together. He gave you one last kiss on the forehead before he headed to the entrance.

"Next up is Lee," the announcer yelled.

He gave you a small wink before walking out into the crowded room, and stepping into the ring. The other boxer stood on the other side of the ring, he must have already entered before Mark's moment of doubt.

You moved to join the full crowd, elbows dug into painfully, shoulders pressed against yours. The more you tried to get to the front the more you were pushed back. You couldn't see anything mainly due to your height but also because you were too far back. How were you supposed to cheer for Mark if you couldn't even see him?

"Lee wants the girl in the blue shirt to be brought to the front," the announcer demanded.

"I'm over here," a girl wearing blue called.

"No he means me."

"Bring me front."

"My bra is blue. I can prove it."

"Mark baby I'm coming."

The room erupted in chaos with everyone claiming to be you. You halted in your spot feeling your protective instincts for Mark kick in, because every girl was struggling to move front towards him and every guy seemed to be irritated by this.

"Shut up," Mark said in an annoyed tone, through the announcer's microphone.

The room slowly grew silent.

"Much better," he murmured.

His voice softened. "Y/N, babe, where are you? Raise your hand please."

"I'm here," you said raising your hand.

"Good," he said "Now all of you please part like the Red Sea and let her come through."

They slowly moved aside providing you enough space to navigate to the front. You gave the people you were passing a small smile to show your gratitude, but they all seemed to be sporting matching expressions of irritation. You finally made it to the front of the ring glad to be closer to him.

"Let's begin," the announcer yelled.

The crowd resumed in their cheering, yelling 'Lee' repetitively and occasionally the name Jaehyun who must have been the opponent. You eyed this Jaehyun he was built, very built, Mark was almost as tall as him. It kinda scared you, but you believed in Mark.

The announcer went over the rules, explaining what determined a win and a loss. You listened intently paying attention to the rules much of which the crowd wanted to drown out in their cheers.

"Round One"

They circled each other like predators. It was Jaehyun who threw the first punch which Mark effectively dodged, retailing with a swift punch to the stomach. They did this a few times exchanging positions of defense and offense. At times it seemed like Mark had a third eye because of the way he dodged a majority of his hits.

The rounds came and went each time Mark got hurt it felt like a blow to your own chest, and each time he had the upper hand you felt like a proud soccer mom at one of her kid's games.

You couldn't help but notice that Mark was very talented, his punches were well aimed, his steps seemed measured, and just looking at the constant flicker of his eyes you could tell that he was aware of his surroundings. His behavior seemed to imitate that of an animal fighting for survival.

The last round of the match was nearing and Mark's face and chest was a burning red coated by sweat. Exhaustion didn't begin to cover the state of him at the moment.

"You can do this Mark!" you yelled "Take it home, baby!"

The round felt like a century with them both seemingly worn out.

"Mark, baby, put him down!"

Mark suddenly charged at Jaehyun, forgetting about holding his position, and continuing firing a punch after punch. I watched wide eyed as Jaehyun dropped to his knees and finally rested on his back. The referee blew his whistle, and soon after raised Mark's hand declaring him the winner.

His chest rose and fell as the crowd roared in delight and victory. He spit out his mouth guard grinning widely. Your heart clenched with joy as you watched him bask in his glory and heard the growing chant of his name begin. This was his moment.

In his moment Mark proudly smiled and when your eyes met, you swore you saw the galaxies in his eyes and you felt as if you're the luckiest person to have ever crossed paths with him. He made you so proud.

------

You waited for Mark to enter the locker room and once he did, you tackled him with a big hug not minding his sweaty body. Mark pulled away to cup your face, seeing you smile proudly at him made his heart burst into happiness. He leaned in to give you a kiss. Your lips moving against each other.

You slowly pulled away just enough that your lips were still brushing against each other. "I love you," you said "Win or lose, I'm proud of you for doing your best."

"I love you too," he replied.

Kissing you once more. Happiness and pride lighting up his face.

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socialwriter · 4 years

Text

Ch.1- Welcome to the Moulin Rouge

Listen alongside: This and this

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Female Reader

1.5 K words

TW: Prostitution, cursing, insinuations of criminal activity

A/n: This is chapter one of my Moulin Rouge series, I hope you enjoy! This is mainly to set up the coming chapters, so it will get better!

Our story begins in Paris, at the turn of the 20th century…

It's a crisp night, and all the patrons rush into the Moulin Rouge to escape the weather, the anticipation of what the night may hold causing a jump in their step. They would get a show complete with singing, dancing, and the fulfillment of their wildest, lust-filled fantasies. Liquor flows freely from bottle to cup, the intoxication of the guests no doubt a ploy so that all frugality may be forgotten while in the establishment. They were destined to see the performances of many, but it was unspoken common knowledge that they all came for one person. Her…

As the lights dimmed and latecomers scrambled to their seats, Topper Thorton, the owner and MC of the establishment, made his way onstage. He had built the business from the ground up, a way to provide housing and an income for many girls with no other option, living on the streets. He had begged, borrowed, and stolen, and was willing to do anything to keep the establishment open. It may not seem like it on a surface level, but Topper deeply cared for the girls, and in fact, what he did to keep the business running, he was really doing for them. Without the Moulin Rouge, most of his performers would be left homeless and hungry, a fate that Thorton would not accept, no matter what it cost him. He was hopeful that with the plan he had enacted involving his right-hand woman and best performer, he might save the place from going under.

"Hello, chickens!Yes! It's me your own beloved Topper Thornton in the flesh! Welcome...To the Moulin Rouge!" He exclaimed, earning polite applause from the night's audience.

"Now, are you ready for our dazzling opening duo… Sarah and Kiara!"

The curtains were pulled back, revealing the two girls clad in red corsets and black fishnets. Thornton had learned his tricks throughout the years. Put your top performers first to initially pull the audience in, and leave the best for last so that the audience stays engaged throughout the show. Sarah and Kiara were some of his best, ruthless in their pursuit of position as the best performer of all the girls of the Moulin Rouge. They used all the tricks in the book. Their voices. Their dance moves. Their bodies. Never had they had a dissatisfied customer. They made Topper proud, never doing any wrong. Yet they could never be at the top of the pecking order. That spot was reserved for one person and one person only.

The Moulin Rouge was a prime example of the economic divide, with both the rich and the poor flocking there to spend whatever money they could on a fun night. The rich aristocrats with their pristine suits and crisp white shirts sat in booths, sheltered off from who they deemed the lowlife Bohemians. These lowlife Bohemians, while clad in their best attire, looked unkempt compared to the rich. Their pants donned holes and stains, while their jackets frayed at the edges. And as Topper's top priority for his business was money, he made sure that the aristocrats received the best services, copious drinks, and the best seats for entertainment, while the Bohemians were left with the scraps.

The wealthiest and most pompous of all the aristocrats had to be Rafe Cameron, the Duke of Monroth, sat in the centermost booth. All the performers were instructed to visit him and his posse most often, as he always paid with the biggest bills. Rafe Cameron was to be used as a cash cow, milked for every penny he would give, all in an effort to save the Moulin Rouge. He was, at best, an asshole to those he disliked and at worst..well at worst, he wasn't able to be called a name at all.

The two Bohemians that had been a thorn in Thornton's side the entirety of his time at the Moulin Rouge were no doubt John B Routledge and Pope Heyward. The two of them always snuck in, never paying, distracting from the performances, and mooching off the wealthy for free booze. They were bad for business, but like cockroaches, they never could be exterminated, and they now had added a third member to their band of misfits: JJ Maybank.

----

JJ ventured through the streets of Paris that afternoon, absorbing all the new city's sights. The blond was fresh off a boat from America, and he had moved to France, hoping to share his music with the world. However, his quiet walk around the city was interrupted by the bickering of two men a little ways away. They were loudly arguing and flailing their arms, but the second JJ heard them aggressively singing tunes at each other, his interest was piqued, and he approached the two men. "I'm sorry, but what exactly is going on?"

The dark-skinned man stood up, placing his hand on JJ's shoulder, much to JJ's surprise. He had just met the men, but he had been told that the people in France were often more affectionate than those in America. "We can't decide what sounds better for our show. I think that the line should go 'the hills are alive, with the sound of clanging.'" The man with his hand on JJ's shoulder explained, to which the brown-haired man stood up, shaking his head.

"No, it should go 'the hills are alive, with the bells and chimes."

"See, that just sounds wrong."

"If I'm wrong, then you're really wrong."

JJ furrowed his brow, glancing between the two bickering men. He didn't need his musical abilities to tell you that neither option sounded good. "Um, actually, what if you went with 'the hills are alive, with the sound of music'?" He sang out, looking at the two men who both had a look of shock on their faces, mouths slightly ajar.

"That's...genius!" The brown-haired man exclaimed, looking at his friend, both grinning. "You must work with us on our show, it's going to be the big-ticket item that gets us out of this hell hole. So, what's your name, friend?"

He hadn't really noticed it before, but it appeared that JJ had stepped into the poorer part of the city, which was presumably where the two men lived. The paint on the walls was chipped and faded and the only bench on the entire street were the two crates that the men were sitting on earlier. It seemed like these two men just wanted to make it big and create a better life for themselves, something JJ had always hoped for. And if he got to share his music with the world while he did it..well he was sold. "JJ. My name's JJ Maybank." He said, shaking the hands of both men.

The more affectionate man grinned, patting JJ on the back. "Well I'm Pope Heyward, and he's John B. And Mr.Maybank, we may need to use you for more than your musical talents." Pope uttered seriously, looking JJ directly in the eye. "I,um-what?"

"You see, the Moulin Rouge is the most well known theatre in all of Paris. You get your show in there, and you're guaranteed success." John B explained to the blue eyed boy. "The problem is, our reputation," he gestured to himself and Pope, "precedes us at that place. We need a new face like yours to get our show even considered by the big dogs. We're gonna need you to talk to the it girl of the club. Thornton will do anything she wants, so you convince her, we're in. Can you do that for us JJ?"

Both Pope and John B looked at JJ hopefully, and JJ didn't have the heart to tell them no. Despite only knowing them for a short time, JJ had the feeling that he would grow very close to them, forging a bond of brothers. "Okay, I'll do it."

---

The trio of Bohemians had snuck into the Moulin Rouge after the show had begun, the dark lights making it difficult to see exactly who was sneaking into the building. "All right, one of the middle booths is open." Pope whispered to the other two boys, to which John B excitedly quickened his pace to snag the seats. JJ didn't see the big deal, it was just a set for crying out loud.

When the three were situated, John B leaned over to JJ, filling him in on the ways of the Moulin Rouge. "You don't know it, but we just snagged the best seats in the house. This is where all the girls give their attention to, making your 'mission' that much easier." John B clarified, causing JJ to form an 'o' with his mouth.

"She'll be on any minute, JJ, get ready," Pope murmured, the energy at the booth going from joking and fun to serious. These boys had a mission, and JJ didn't want to let his new friends down. But nothing could have prepared him for what he was in store for.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you our "Sparkling Diamond" The unique, the indomitable, the one and only! Y/n."

The curtain rose, and JJ's mouth instantly went dry when the most beautiful woman he had ever seen walked onstage. Immediately, butterflies erupted in his chest. He realized that this mission of his was going to be much harder than he had initially anticipated.

Tags-

@normatural @thelonewolfdies @bricksatanakinswindow @ssjiara

ppl who expressed interest (I’m only tagging u for this chap dw)- @heliopvth @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @spilledtee @obxmxybxnk @denimandcurls @pogue-writings @adoreyoudrews @stargazingstarkey @queenk00k @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @downbytheouterbanks @summerintheobx @shawnssongs @lefthandwritings

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fenheart87 · 4 years

Text

Healing the Magic

For @bloody-no-kissu happy belated birthday!

-start-

“Well hello there, sniffer’s no good upwind.” Luka kept his relaxed posture, no need to scare the young woman, especially when he had no way of knowing what she was capable of. "Rest easy lass, just a wee break for the legs before finishing my journey. Beautiful women are welcome to the river beside me, I don't bite."

Marinette snorted and moved closer, much more at ease with the werewolf as he was coherent. Carefully she scooped some water from the flow of the river with a chipped bowl and carefully filled her canteen. Silently she thanked the river spirits that this one was untainted by the illness that was flooding the capital. Once her canteen was full, she filled a few vials and other potion bottles. She would need moon water but that was harder to come by, unless…

"Pray tell furry friend," she smiled at the eye roll and continued, "if I were to say leave a basin to be touched by Sister Moon would you place a watchful eye and help me to gather pure water from a full and a new moon?"

"Moon water aye?" Blue eyes narrowed in consideration and a healthy dose of wariness. "And what would a young lass such as yourself need any type of moon water for?"

"I come from the Agreste ranch, rescued as a healer for the ailing late Madame Emilie Agreste. Since her passing and resting of her soul, I have been helping to use my skills for those in the nearby town, most wounds heal best under a full moon. Other times I must raise defense for myself against those who wish to harm a skilled healer such as myself. I understand if you cannot help." Marinette simply returned to drinking fresh water from the river and making sure she had collected enough for her next round of potions.

"Lilly wheat grows yonder the hill to the west, right along the tree line. It can be tricking to navigate, I swear to watch yer things should you need to gather it."

Surprise covered her features, it was exactly what she was looking for and made her rethink this werewolf and wonder, how did he recognize the potion? "Many thanks, should you need flea repellent, there is thistle burn about two miles east of here."

"Ah the smell would be unmistakable." Nodding his shaggy head in thanks and reclined on the other bank, he seemed to be done with conversation.

"I'll take you up on your kind offer stranger, I'll be swift." Marinette heard the snort but paid it no mind as she gathered her dagger, amulet and her bag for the herbs she had collected. Swapping the jars of water for a few empty ones, she made her way to the west. Humming some disguised spells, Marinette committed the path to memory and found a few alternate routes for future trips. Sure enough she spotted lilly wheat from its lavender and pale blue coloring, it was a hybrid lookalike of wheat and blue bell flowers. Gathering as much as she could to fill the jars to the max and even stuffed her apron pockets to the brim. Making her way back, she heard a few twigs snap and the trees across the river had a slight sway, signalling the werewolf just left.

"Thank you kind wolf!" Upon reaching the middle of the clearing, she noticed both collection jars were missing. Smiling, she made a note to return in a month's time.

________________________________________

The walk helped clear her senses, too much magic and illness in the capitol had clouded Marinette's magical innate ability to sense other beings. Nature was usually at a neutral point unless tainted by those who lived in the area. Out here so far away from anything or even the manor of vampires she cohabitated with was still pure and loved to trade her negative things with a positive rush of natural magic. It was quite a boost and usually she stored it in her crystals, sometimes bringing them with her to recharge if she was able to stay for a long period.

The tree line broke and the sounds of the river filled her ears and the birds sounded louder than before. Marinette basked in the cheer floating in the air and made her way to the natural alter that she frequently used as her desk. Noticing a note hidden under a rock with a gem tied to it. Carefully she pulled the letter free, not wanting to touch the gem in case it was rigged with a spell.

'Hello Witchling,

I trust your fortnight has been fruitful and as you asked, I was indeed able to get both water from the new moon and the full moon. Untouched completely by every element but the collected water and the air itself. The gem is a family heirloom, there is a hidden cave and it shall lead you to it with just a drop of water from the river.

The Big Friendly Wolf'

Giggling to herself, she did as the note bade and with a touch of cursory magic, determined it was harmless. Dipping a finger in the river for a drop of water, Marinette followed the glowing red light to the cave where her collection jars waited for her, completely untouched. Taking care, she poured the water into the marked pots and carefully sealed them for transportation. This would be plenty for what she needed and Marinette made a note to make something for the helpful Were. Leaving the crystal with the note in the cave, she set off to gather the few missing herbs left. It took only a few minutes of scouting when her senses sparked in alarm, there was another magical signature drawing closer and it was unfamiliar. Deciding the risk was worth it, Marinette touched her amulet and teleported back into the agreste stronghold.

Dizziness filled her vision for a moment and she steadied herself with a few deep breaths. Looking around her room, she noticed nothing out of order and apart from the usual lingering traces of her magic and of Adrien's, everything was still. Grabbing a couple cookies to help her nausea, Marinette teleported back out of the castle and to the nearby wood. It would make it seem as if she skipped over the mountain and river instead of jumping right through every defense that Gabriel had set. Normally the elder vampire had no qualms with her use of magic but he disapproved of it greatly and even forbade Marinette to teach his son. The magic had chosen the young heir and there was not a thing she could do to stop it but that was a long time before they needed to discuss anything if her luck had anything to do with it, she dearly hoped she would be released from their service before then.

The guard, a quiet man whom Adrien called Gorilla, nodded in greeting and let her pass unharmed. Not many could come and go as they pleased, it was a hard earned honor to be rarely granted. Resuming her humming, her magic reached out and brushed against Adrien's, giving her a clear path to follow. Turning left instead of her normal right, the torches illuminated her way. The only thing King Gabriel requested to be enchanted at all times and now only let Marinette or Felix boost them when the stored magic was running low.

"Oh posh, you know as well as I do your father is hardly that." A foreign voice could be heard as she approached the heir's chambers.

"I'm not having this argument again, either you can shut up or I'll have your tongue." Adrien rarely snapped and it caused the witch's curiosity to peak even more. The moment of silence was her best bet, knocking in a familiar pattern and humming a containment spell, Marinette opened the door and slipped inside quickly.

"Oi! You never told me Tikki was here!" The blurry black form was hissing and thrashing in anger, the spell working like a charm.

"Oh you must be Plagg! I thought Mullo said you were a cute cat with a bad attitude?" Marinette wondered aloud, smiling in greeting to the frozen vampire.

"Mullo?! Wait wait wait! You're Marinette!"

Plagg settles into his hybrid form, acid green eyes and fluffy black ears being the first clear features to show. He stepped out of the transformation smoke and his body clad in black robes became solid, a slender tail flicking in excitement behind him.

"Oh no, you talk about me?!" Marinette shrieked in alarm, dropping the bag she had forgotten.

"Hold on, what in the Hell's Fires is going on here?" Adrien cut in, looking at the Demigod and his healer in anger and confusion.

"Oh Adrien, you know my true talents are not in healing so I know the Demigods when I see them. I've always known you're magic kissed like your mother." She smiled guiltily as the shock filled his face.

"Of course we talk about you, there's only one of you even century if we're lucky. A Destined is something to be proud of and you are definitely a very special one too. I'd love to see what kind of chaos we could create." His smile was full of fangs and a mischievous gleam shone from his eyes.

"Maybe one day, especially since I was forbade from teaching any magic and now you're contracted to Adrien." Marinette surmised, it was the only explanation as to why the demigod would actually be there in person.

"Father will never learn to trust me will he?" The blonde sighed deeply, defeat easy to read in his hunched form.

"He fears the illness that took your mother will take you as well…" Marinette hesitated, looking to Plagg for permission to disclose the truth; a move that Adrien noticed and pounced on.

"What are you hiding from me?" He rose from the chair, brow furrowed in anger and stalked towards the shorter woman.

"I cannot say, the King has his ways of forbidding even the most noble of truths." She turned her gaze to the floor in preservation, a vampire's thrall wasn't effective enough to hold her for long but it did cause severe damage.

"He marked you." They had nearly forgotten the demigod was in the same room. "That bastard! Touching a Destined with Darkened Magic is forbidden!"

"I had no idea I was a Destined, my powers never came in until I became lost in the Forbidden Woods." Her voice was soft with sadness but still clearly heard. "This means he will have to be put to death doesn't it?"

The silence from the demigod was loud enough in its own right. King Gabriel would pay the price of meddling with the Darkened Magic, the blackest of black magic and required sacrifices of souls and thousands of blood rituals or even contracts with demons. The penalty was raised even more for using the Darkened Magic on a Destined and stunting Marinette’s growth and endangering her life, a Demigod had chosen her and had been denied the right to connect with her because of Gabriel's foolishness.

"You'll rise to your place in the throne then Prince Adrien."

"You can't be serious, killing my father? For using magic on a witch?" Adrien cried, waving his arm carelessly.

"Boy, Magic Kissed you are but Chosen you are not! I will take you down with him should you choose to go against the wish of the Gods!" Plagg snarled, teeth glinting sharply in the candlelight.

Adrien started at the show of anger and reacted with fangs bared and eyes darkening to red. The predator was unused to feeling truly like prey, even in front of his father and his fight or flight instinct was set to fight. Marinette hummed herself, layering a few protective spells over herself and Plagg, surprising the demigod enough to whip his head and stare at her in disbelief.

"You're Tikki's chosen…" Adrien calmed a bit and glowered at the two that had suddenly forgotten him.

"I wouldn't know." Marinette whispered, barely heard by either male.

"Look kid, either he dies and you step up to be the man they need you to be or you'll suffer at the end of my claws as well. You have until sundown to decide. Little witchling, I shall keep in touch. There will be three parting gifts in your room and with your smarts you'll put it all together." Plagg bowed slightly, a show of respect to Marientte which had her and Adrien shocked as the demigod disappeared.

"We need to act normal for the time being. I'll see you at dinner." Adrien spoke dismissively, an echo of Gabriel's attitude behind his words. Marinette was left with no choice but to retire to her room.

Her room was alive in the way only a witch could truly achieve, the flora was bursting with healthy green leaves and big bright beautiful blooms. The air carried a weight of the magic she often conjured within the four walls, positive and practice vibes floating playfully past one another to create a safe atmosphere. Little did anyone realize the room itself was enchanted and she could move the entire thing at will, it was difficult as it required a lot of magic but with the help of Moon Water, she could do it and hide away to regain her strength.

"Alright, time to get to work." Marinette opened her chest and humming a light airy tune, the shelves floated off the walls and slowly drifted into the chest, allowing her time to select certain ingredients. Taking a deep breath she changed her tune and her furniture began to shrink and floated into the chest as well. The young witch was about three quarters depleted of her magic, Marinette had suspicions that Gabriel had something to do with it.

"Okay, time to juice up. Just a little bit, nothing major. Nothing ventured, nothing gained after all." She muttered under her breath, trying to shake off the sudden nerves. Tapping into the last of her power, Marinette focused on the new moon water and held the clear quartz above it, near breaking concentration as it began to float. Starting a soft hum, the water took a shiny quality and the crystal glowed in response. Very thin multicolored wisps of smoke drifted back and forth, showing a tangible power exchange between both stored magics. Once the water no longer shined and the smoke faded fully, she stopped humming.

"One more step and onto freedom…" Blue eyes took in the half packed state of her room, fingers already reaching for her Amethyst to charge with the Full Moon water. This was easier as there was only a little need for direction, the power was already there and no need to purify or mix with another essence. Gently she placed the crystal to float on top of the water and with a whisper of a chant, the process began.

Marinette moved around the room and tossed the shrunken furniture into the chest, convincing her plants to sleep for the trip and even getting some to shrink into seeds for packing purposes. Once everything was cleared and stored away, the young witch turned back to the crystal and pot, the process about halfway done. Steeling herself, Marinette grabbed a ring she rarely wore when staying inside the castle, strands of gold layered and twisted to form a beautiful rose. This was one of her more precious gifts, it also lent the ability to disguise everything tattletale from vampires.

"Now to make it through dinner… And hopefully out of here alive."

Dinner was a quiet affair, the tension could be felt by even the servants who were speedy about setting down the dishes and retreating as quickly as they could without triggering a chase from an angry vampire.

"I thought King Gabriel was to join us?" Marinette asked politely, forcing herself to enjoy the cooked lamb at a moderate pace.

"Father had some unexpected business to attend to." Adrien had finished sucking his peice dry and moved on to the goblet of blood wine.

"I hope nothing too strenuous."

"Father can handle anything."

Once she was finished, the table was cleared for dessert. The young witch knew this would be her moment as everyone else had left the room and if things were to go south, they would be spared from Adrien's wrath. Gathering courage, she rose from her seated position and bowed slightly.

"If you have a moment to spare, I would like to discuss something with you."

"So be it, speak your piece." Adrien leaned back in the chair, his persona more and more like his father every day but never closer than in that moment.

"After the events I am resigning from my position as healer for the Agreste Coven."

"Marinette, there's no reason to have this discussion." He sighed heavily and rose from his seat, turning to leave.

"There's no reason for me to be here any longer Adrien. My original reason for employment has been null for a long time. I feel it's time to leave and further my skills, that cannot be done while in here. There's nothing for me to learn." As a human she knew this would trigger what was left of his humanity and kept her breathing even to avoid the blow up

Adrien spun around suddenly, knocking off the dinnerware from the table. The plate was a near miss from cutting Marientte's bare feet but she stood her ground, after all no matter how nice Adrien was, there was still a predator in his heart. Green eyes blazed with anger and a low snarl ripped from his throat, it had no effect on her after so long of being in his service. "You dare mock me and then presume to leave me!? For the flea bitten mongrel at that?"

"I'd rather lay with that so-called mongrel and risk fleas than be with you a moment longer than I have to." Marinette calmly stated, pulling on her inner strength to not let her ring fail her and reveal how fast her pulse was truly racing.

"What is this really about Marinette? Did I not give you all the splendor and treasures you could want? I let you choose a trade and keep your money from it, supporting you and never asking for you to repay your debt with me. Have I ever hurt you?" Adrien spread his arms dramatically, appearing innocent except for the look of rage taking over his face.

"Adrien. Do not make this a big deal, Plagg is already watching you closely." Praying to the demigod himself that Adrien wouldn't be able to call her bluff. "I am not a prize to be won or fought over, I am most certainly not yours. You have never hurt me nor have I you, please do not change that."

"Then leave, when you get fleas do not come crying to me." Adrien spun and left the dining hall, anger leaking from him.

Marinette wasted no time, teleporting back to her room and casting a cloaking spell on the chest. The transfer was done and quickly she saved the water for both by sealing the collection pots temporarily. The crystals went onto the pouch at her waist, Marinette noticed that there was more than usual and smiled in relief.

"One of three found little witchling. Best hurry to get out of here before my kitten blows a gasket." Plagg commented lazily, floating above the opening of her door.

"Thank you for your watchful eyes Plagg." Dropping into a quick curtsey and drawing a quiet chuckle from the Demigod, the witch finished packing what little was left. Humming brightly, she gasped as the chest shrunk into a perfect sized bracelet.

"The least I can do to help rectify the wrong that has been done towards you. Mayhaps you should find a mentor that has knowledge of God's and Divination."

"Consider it done! Master Fu told me if i ever needed anything to go see him at the Temple of Heroes." Marinette smiled brightly and with a wink, teleported into the clearing she favored. She miscalculated how drained she was on magic as something solid but somewhat squishy.

"Well lass, did not expect you to fall into my lap quite like this." The werewolf's deep timber caused a shiver to run up her spine.

"Not quite my intention but I do need help and a certain big friendly werewolf would be quite helpful against the big scary vampires."

"Well lassie, you're in luck. Just hang on." He shifted her to his back and she clung on for dear life with a huge smile on her face. Time to live for herself.

#miraculous lb #miraculous fanfic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous au #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #lukanette endgame #plagg is a little shit

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soul-music-is-life · 4 years

Note

Good morning! I was wondering if you could write a little Sam and Pam and the twins interaction? Or maybe Pam meeting the baby and learning his middle name is Wayne?? Or something? Por favor??? Gracias

Enjoy

******

Even though it had been a long night, Emily couldn’t stop staring at her son. It had only been hours since his birth. And she was so insanely in love that she couldn’t stand it. His birth had been different than the twins.

Emily and Alison had been wrestling with some wildly conflicting emotions when Lily and Grace had been born. The only people who knew the origins of Alison’s first pregnancy were their best friends. Emily had never told her mother the truth about what Alex Drake had done to her and Alison.

The pregnancy had been tough on both of them. They’d had lives thrust upon them that neither one of them asked for…against their consent. Deciding to have the babies had been a difficult choice.

But after months of depression and hours of labor they fell in love with them. That was the thing about babies. They had a way of making the entire world stop for just a moment. The idea that life could create something so amazing and innocent was an incredible notion. Babies were so pure and malleable. Watching a child seeing the world around them for the very first time was eye-opening.

The moment Lily took her first breath Alison felt like the world fell away, and her baby girl was the only thing she saw. The moment that Grace had latched on to Emily’s finger Emily didn’t care about anything else in the world.

The day their twins had been born their mothers had become putty in their hands.

Emily’s mother fell in love with them the instant she met them. She was the only grandparent they would ever have. And she spoiled the hell out of them.

Pam loved her granddaughters. She loved them when they snuggled up to her. She loved them when they made macaroni crafts for her in school. She loved them when they begged her to let them help her bake, even if it got a little messy. She even loved them when they were sullen and moody.

Emily and Alison knew that she would love her grandson just as much. There was nothing different about the love that they had for their baby boy. The only difference is that he had been a conscious choice. In fact, they had tried for him, several times. So the pregnancy hadn’t been as emotionally distressing.

The labor had been tough on Alison. Emily had stayed up with her all night…rubbing her back to help with the contractions, bringing her ice chips for the hunger pains and to cool her down, and wiping away her sweat and tears when it came time to push.

Alison had squeezed Emily’s hand so hard that her fingernails had drawn blood. She’d sprained Emily’s wrist, but Emily hadn’t said a word to her about it.

The hospital room was quiet now, which was a stark contrast to the madhouse it had been earlier. Emily looked at her wife, who was quietly sleeping in her hospital bed. Emily was sitting next to her, their son in her arms.

She reached up and swiped a tendril of Alison’s hair out of her face, her knuckles sweeping her skin. She looked beautiful even after the entire night of labor.

Hours ago Alison had been screaming at Emily, telling her she couldn’t do it. But when it came time to bring their baby boy into the world she was determined.

She’d pushed through. And when she held his tiny naked body against her bare chest for the first time she’d openly wept while kissing his head. He’d been wriggling at first, but when he felt the warmth of his mother’s bosom he’d stilled in her arms.

Alison had reached for Emily, weeping in joy…and in exhaustion. She’d kissed her bruised fingers and told her she loved her. Emily had kissed Alison’s sweaty forehead and put her other hand against their son’s belly. He’d been perfectly calm, like he knew he was safe.

Emily stared at the sleeping blonde. Her love for her was beyond eternal. She couldn’t imagine having a family with anyone else. They had wavered through hard times, but they always found their way back to each other. Because true love meant not letting the darkness drag them down. True love meant that even if they were apart…their hearts were still intertwined, and they always would be. They didn’t care what other people thought. What mattered was their connection. What mattered was their family.

Their son squirmed in Emily’s arms. His eyelids flickered and fluttered as he dreamed. She thought she saw a tiny smile.

She traced her index finger across his impossibly small fingers. In an unconscious reflex his palm flipped over and grasped Emily’s finger. Emily felt a warmth flowing through her entire body. She never wanted to let him go.

He puckered his lips and started sucking against the air. He opened his eyes, looking up at her curiously, as if he knew exactly who she was.

“Hey, sweet boy.” Emily cooed quietly. She gently rose to her feet, rocking him softly.

His wide eyes scanned Emily’s face. He furrowed his little brows and opened his mouth and a tiny little squeak came out.

Emily smiled. He was so perfect. She kissed his little button nose and watched as he scrunched his face up. It looked like he was thinking…like he was trying to figure something out.

“Hi, Sammy. Hi, baby.” She was mesmerized.

She heard soft footsteps approaching. She assumed it was the nurse coming to check in on them. She didn’t even bother looking up, because looking away meant that she’d miss a moment of her child’s life. She knew how quickly it went by. The girls had grown up in the blink of an eye.

“Em?”

Emily looked up when she heard her mother’s voice. She had a gift basket in her arms. It didn’t surprise Emily. Her mother was always ready for any occasion. The basket had a teddy bear, several plush toys, booties, blankets, hats, and some lotions and diaper creams. She’d also put in two bottles of chardonnay for the new mommies. It was her own personal touch. She quietly put the basket down on the chair near the door.

“Hey, honey.” Pam said quietly, her eyes darting to a sleeping Alison in the bed.

“Mom. Hi.”

“Is this a bad time? I tried calling.”

“Oh…” Emily reached in her back pocket. “I turned my phone off when he fell asleep.”

Pam walked over to her daughter. She looked down at the baby in her arms.

“God, he’s beautiful.” Pam caressed his cheek with her index finger. “You girls did a good job.”

“This was all Alison.” Emily glanced back at her wife. “She amazes me every day.” She slowly faced her mother again. She was trying to maintain eye contact, but it was hard to look anywhere but at her son. “His mommy is the strongest person I know.”

“Both of his mommies.” Pam put her hand on Emily’s shoulder. She looked at her grandson. He looked up at her, his neck twisting as he tried to scope out the new person staring down at him. “He is precious. You two must be so in love with him.” She ran her hand over the top of his head.

“We are.” Emily’s nose started to burn. She had cried several times already. She couldn’t contain her emotions. “You want to hold him?”

“He looks content right where he is right now.” In his mom’s arms.

Emily gently rocked him. He quietly babbled and made gurgling noises. Emily smiled down at him.

“Everyone always says that you can’t entirely understand what it’s like to love someone more than you love yourself…that you can’t get the love that a mother has for their child until you see them the first time. But something no one ever tells you is how much it hurts to love them.”

She felt like wrapping him up in a blanket and holding him close to her chest forever. She wanted to protect him from the world.

“You know, when Lily and Grace were born it was like our entire world changed. I didn’t realize how much of yourself that you lose in your children…and that you would willingly do it…that you willingly give them every part of your heart and your soul.” She lifted her son up so she could kiss his head. “I would do it a thousand times over.”

“I am so proud of you, Emmy. Of both of you.” Pam touched her cheek. She had seen her daughter grow from a shy insecure little girl to a beautiful woman with a beautiful family. And they were flourishing. “I know I made some mistakes…”

“I wouldn’t be who I am today without you and dad. I wouldn’t be here if things hadn’t gone exactly the way they’d gone when I was younger. The mistakes didn’t break me. They taught me. I know no one is perfect, not even parents.” Emily smiled at her. “Hell, I turned away from Lily and Grace one day and they crawled off in different directions and I thought I’d lost them forever. I found Grace in a pile of laundry and Lily in the kitchen cabinet. They both thought nearly giving me a heart attack was hysterical.”

“Babies are resilient.” Pam assured her.

“I know that now.” She looked down at the infant in her arms.

She couldn’t believe that they were going to go through it all over again. The girls were so old and independent now. It was a little intimidating to think about going through the baby stages again.

Emily had a weary look on her face. She hadn’t slept since they’d gotten to the hospital. It felt more important to let Alison get her rest. Her mother didn’t miss her exhaustion.

“You look so tired.”

“It was a long night.” Emily admitted.

“I can come back another time. I know Alison must be exhausted. I don’t want to wake her.”

“She’s awake.” The blonde said from behind them.

They both turned around and saw Alison slowly sitting up in the bed. She looked at Emily holding their son and she smiled. Seeing Emily with their babies made her heart swell. She looked at her mother-in-law.

“Hello, Pam.”

“Alison, how are you feeling, honey?” Pam walked over to her side. She sat down against the edge of the bed.

“I’ll be in good shape if you tell me that’s Russian River Valley.” She eyed the alcohol in the basket. She couldn’t wait to have a drink. She’d missed her wine during the pregnancy.

“I know what you like.” Pam nodded.

“Best Mother-in-law ever.” Alison reached out and touched her hand. Pam squeezed it.

“How’s the pain?”

“Not so bad. The worst part was the actual labor. It was longer than my first. And I waited too long and couldn’t get the epidural. I felt everything.”

“I hear that. Emily ripped me to shreds…” She glanced at her daughter.

“Mom.” Emily made a face.

Emily groaned in disgust. She hated hearing her mother talk about bodily functions. It was so very un-Pam Fields-like. But she’d mellowed out in her old age.

After Emily’s dad died her mother had changed quite a bit. She’d loosened up. Some of the more strict aspects of her personality fell away. Her husband’s death had softened her. And the birth of her grandchildren had made her think she was some kind of comedian. The twins thought she was oh-so-funny because she told them stories about their mom being a kid. Embarrassing stories.

“I still pee when I sneeze because of you.” Pam teased.

“The twins already bestowed that honor on me.” Alison admitted.

“Kegels help. It’s the only thing that got me back up and running down there after Emily…”

“This is an awesome conversation,” Emily uttered dryly.

“They never apologize for ruining your body.” Pam winked at Alison. They glanced at each other, as if they were in on some kind of joke. Pam’s face softened. “I’m kidding, of course. Childbirth only makes our bodies more beautiful. They change, but the imperfections are worth it, because when you look at your babies…you realize you wouldn’t have it any other way.” Pam gave her daughter a warm smile.

“Tell that to the stitches in my vagina.” Alison scoffed.

“Okay, on that note…I’m taking my boy and leaving, because he certainly shouldn’t have to hear about his mother’s and his grandmother’s body parts.” She bounced the baby in her arms. “Let’s wait a little while before we warp him.”

“Lily and Grace will have him warped by the end of the week.” Alison reminded her.

“Where are the girls?” Pam questioned.

“Shit. I thought they were with you.” Alison raised her brows. “Emily…”

“They’re fine. They’re at home.” Emily walked towards the bed, joining her mother and Alison.

“The last time we left them alone Grace set the kitchen on fire.” She reached for her phone.

“And Lily put it out. They balance each other. It’s fine. Lily knows where the fire extinguisher is. She knows the number to the poison control hotline. And she knows better than to leave Grace unattended.” Emily tried to calm Alison’s nerves.

“Forget baby-proofing the house. We’re going to need to Lily-and-Grace proof the baby. Get some durable bubble wrap and a tiny little helmet.” Alison was only semi-joking.

“He’ll be fine. His mothers are tough.” Pam reached down to play with his fingers.

He cooed. He reached out and latched on to Pam’s finger.

“I think he wants his Grandma.” Alison smiled.

She turned the phone towards Pam, Emily, and the baby and snapped a picture, capturing the moment that Pam fell indefinitely in love with her grandson. All it had taken was his tiny little fingers latching on to her. He had her heart.

“You know ‘Grandma’ makes me feel so old.” Pam made a face.

“We could go back to Pam-ma.” Emily snickered. When Lily was little she’d declared that Pam was Pam-ma, because she couldn’t pronounce the ‘G’ correctly.

“No.” Pam smiled down at the little boy as Emily slowly passed him over to her. “We’re going to go old school with this sweet one. Filipino style.” She carefully cradled his head and wrapped her arms protectively around her grandson. “Hi, bubby. I’m your Lola. Just like I called my Grandma.”

He scrunched his face up and kicked his feet out, trying to readjust to being moved out of his mom’s arms. Pam lifted him up, moving him so that his face was in front of hers. His mouth fell open in a little ‘o’ and he blinked several times. She readjusted him, letting him curl against her body until he was comfortable. He smacked his lips together and then settled in her arms.

Pam had been a natural with the twins, too. She was great with babies. All of their friends’ babies had loved her, too. Sometimes Hanna would call Pam when she was overwhelmed and her mother was out of town. She’d gotten Hanna through colic with her daughter.

“I know I’m biased here, but I think he might be the most handsome little baby I’ve ever seen.” She tickled his nose.

“The calm nature is all Emily.” Alison reached for her wife’s hand. Emily took it. “The girls got my attitude, but with him…” Alison touched her son’s foot, “…I can tell he’s going to be more laid-back. And he definitely didn’t get that from me. I imagine all those late night talks and lullabies you sang to him got through to him.” Alison peered at the brunette.

“Your father did that when I was pregnant with you.” Pam looked up at her daughter, tearing her eyes away from her grandson for a fraction of a second. “You were a calm baby. Your eyes were so bright. You were always watching…observing…like you were afraid you might miss something.”

“You’ve always been good at seeing things that no one else can see.” Alison rubbed Emily’s arm. After all, the brunette had seen the best in her.

“You got that from your dad, too.” Pam put her free hand on top of Emily’s hand. “He’d be so proud. I wish he was here…” She sighed sadly.

Emily and Alison glanced at one another, sharing a loving smile. Pam missed the exchange. She was too enamored with her new grandbaby.

“Dad is here.” Emily squeezed her mom’s hand, gently calling for her attention. “In a way.”

Emily looked down at her baby boy. She could only imagine how her father would have reacted to having a grandson. He would have loved it.

Pam looked up at her daughter and daughter-in-law, perplexed. Emily smiled at her.

Sam squeaked and then curled his head and pushed himself against Pam’s body.

“Your grandson here will always have a part of dad.” Emily blinked back tears. She could see the confusion on her mother’s face. “Did you see the name on his bracelet?”

Pam gripped the little hospital bracelet. She made out the name Samuel ‘W’ D-F.

“Samuel Wayne DiLaurentis-Fields.” Emily touched her son’s hands. “Meet your Lola, Samuel Wayne…”

Pam tore her eyes away from the baby and looked up at Emily, tears in her eyes. Hearing her husband’s name stirred a plethora of emotions inside of her. It had been years since she lost him, but she still slipped into the stages of grief quite easily.

“You named him after your father?” Pam’s voice trembled.

“It was Alison’s idea.” Emily grasped her wife’s hand.

Emily had wanted to name him after her dad, but she didn’t want to pressure Alison into it. She hadn’t had to say a word, because Alison suggested it the second they found out they were having a boy.

All Alison could think about was how big of a void her father’s death had left in Emily’s life. She remembered Emily crying before their wedding because he wasn’t there to walk her down the aisle. She’d tried to hide the pain. Alison and Pam had been able to see it, but she’d ended up looking beautiful anyway.

Jason had walked Alison down the aisle. Toby had walked Emily. But it wasn’t the same, and Alison knew it wasn’t the same. She knew because her parents weren’t around either. The difference for her was that she didn’t want her parents around.

Alison felt Wayne's absence, too, and she didn’t even know him very well. She wanted their son to have the best parts of their blended family.

“I want him to know his grandfather was a great man.” Alison reached up and touched her son’s cheek. “Wayne was a wonderful human being and I don’t doubt that his spirit lives on in him.”

Wayne Fields had been a kind man. A decent man. He loved his family more than anything, and Alison knew his grandson would be able to carry out his legacy.

They had entertained the twins with stories of their grandfather, and they wanted their son to feel connected to him, too.

“We wanted him to hear stories about how his namesake saved lives and made the world a better place for his grandchildren to play in.” Her fingertip landed against Sam’s lips. He suckled against it.

“We want Sam to know about dad’s kind heart. And his corny dad jokes.” Emily laughed, though she had a tear slipping down her cheek, which Pam automatically reached up and wiped away. “And his obsession with going overboard on Christmas...”

“That man and his Christmas lights, I swear…” Pam said with a sad smile.

“He’s going to know dad’s love. Just like the girls.” Emily leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder.

There had been a time when Emily had pulled away from her mother. But after her dad died she’d gotten closer to her than she ever imagined possible. They wouldn’t have gotten through it without each other.

“I don’t know what to say, girls.” Pam looked between Emily and Alison and then back down at her grandson.

When she looked into his wide wandering eyes she could see an old soul. The soul of her late husband. It’s as if though he was destined to be in their lives.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Alison smiled at her mother-in-law.

Sam spoke for all of them when he let out a squeaky grunt and kicked his feet.

“I am so glad those little soccer legs aren’t kicking me anymore.” Alison chuckled, tickling the bottom of his foot.

“Dad liked soccer. He played it with the kids overseas, didn’t he?” Emily asked.

“He did.” Pam nodded. “Are you going to be a soccer star, Sammy?” She pulled his blanket up around him, making sure he was snug. “Or football? Whatever you want to do, your Lola will be on the sidelines cheering for you and embarrassing you in front of all your friends. Because that’s what grandparents do.”

She leaned down and rubbed her nose against his cheek. He cooed. She sniffed his hair. He had that beautiful new baby smell. She wished she could bottle it up and save it forever.

She glanced at Alison and Emily, who were sharing a quiet look of adoration.

“Why don’t you let me look after him for a little while?” Pam slowly got to her feet. “You two get some rest.”

Emily nodded as her mother walked out of the room to take her grandson on the tour of the hospital hallways. Even after she’d disappeared, Emily’s eyes were fixed on the door.

“Hey…” Alison gripped her wrist, trying to get her attention. She had seen the look in Emily’s eyes when she was talking about her father. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Emily squeezed into the bed next to Alison carefully. She was trying to be mindful of her tender body. She knew she was sore. “I just miss him.”

Alison curled against her. She kissed her. She could taste the sorrow that Emily was hiding, but there was also a burst of joy. Their son couldn’t completely mend her broken heart, but he was certainly filling the gap that her father’s death had left there.

They laid in bed silently, Emily rubbing Alison’s back until the exhausted blonde fell asleep again. Emily wasn’t far behind her, as she dozed off right after. They knew their son was in good hands.

Sam had Pam’s heart completely. He made her feel connected to her husband again. She could feel Wayne’s energy surrounding them as she walked the hospital with her grandson.

Sam bonded with her in the same way that he’d bonded with his mothers. He never cried when he was in Pam’s arms.

She babysat several times the first few weeks while his exhausted mothers tried to get a balance back in their lives.

She offered to watch Sam and the twins one Sunday night so Alison and Emily could have some time to reconnect. They jumped at the chance.

Sam had woken up in the wee hours that Monday morning and Pam went to get him from his bassinet. The twins weren’t far behind. When their baby brother cried they always rushed to his side. But Pam was already there, rocking him in a rocking chair, soothing him and giving him a bottle.

“Is he okay?” Lily asked quietly as she crept into the room in concern.

“He’s fine. He was just hungry.”

“As long as he stays away from my Cheetos.” Grace walked in behind her sister.

“I don’t think Cheetos are good for babies.” Lily frowned.

They walked over to Pam and their baby brother.

“He’s so tiny.” Grace played with his foot. “And cute. Nothing like Lily was when she was a baby. I’ve seen pictures. She looked like a little gremlin.”

“We’re identical, gremlin.” Lily reminded her. “But you are very cute, Sammy.” She reached down and slid her index finger into his palm. He immediately latched on to her.

He glanced at them as he chewed on the nipple of the bottle.

“He’s a good little eater.” Lily smiled in pride. “Bottles and mom’s boob.”

“Gross. Can we not talk about mom’s boob this early in the morning? Or…ever.” Grace frowned.

“Breastfeeding is perfectly natural.”

“I get that. But I’d prefer not to think of mom’s boobs when I have a Chem test to get to. It’ll distract me.”

“Grace, you got distracted by a scuff in the floor last week.”

“That’s because it was shaped like a dick…” She suddenly realized her grandmother was in the room and quickly added, “tator. A dictator’s…um…” She squirmed awkwardly. “Hitler’s mustache.” She blurted out. “It was ugly. He was a very bad man.”

Lily smacked Grace on the back of her head. Grace let out a sheepish laugh.

“You girls need to go get ready for school.” Pam glanced at the clock.

“Yes. School.” Grace nodded.

Grace and Lily rushed out of the room.

“A dick? What were you thinking?” Lily growled in a hushed toned.

“It slipped out!” Grace answered back.

Pam couldn’t help but chuckle at her two crazy granddaughters. They were a mess. They always kept things interesting.

After they left for school the house was quiet. Pam sat with Sam for nearly an hour, rocking him, talking to him, singing to him.

She glanced at a picture of her husband all decked out in his dress blues. Keeping pictures of Wayne near Sam was Emily’s idea. She wanted him to know his grandfather’s face.

Pam sighed. She missed her husband more than anything. She hadn’t just lost a spouse. She’d lost a best friend. It had left a void in her life, a pain that was always there, like a window opening to let in a chill from which you couldn’t escape. But her grandson helped with the pain.

“Look what our daughter and her wife did.” Pam said quietly, smiling at the image of Wayne.

She looked down at the sleeping infant in her arms. He looked so peaceful. She felt a shift in the room. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh.

Sometimes if she closed her eyes she could picture him standing next to her, his hand on her shoulder, looking down at their grandbaby.

“Our girls…” Pam said, “They did good, Wayne.”

She knew he could hear her. She knew he was there. She could feel him. She was afraid to open her eyes, afraid to let go of the image she’d conjured up. But she did, because she knew that her grandbaby would be there when she did. So she opened her eyes and she looked down.

Sam’s eyes were open. He was looking up, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking beyond her, like he could see something that she couldn’t. He cooed and his mouth fell open in a gummy grin for a fraction of a second. If she didn’t know any better she would have thought he was laughing at one of Wayne’s corny jokes.

Pam would never forget the first joke Wayne had ever told Emily when she was little.

“How do you get an astronaut’s baby to sleep?” He’d lifted Emily up like a little astronaut in space and made her squeal and giggle, “You rocket it!”

It was little moments like that that kept her husband’s memory alive for her. She knew Sam would have loved him. She rubbed his cheek with her knuckle and his eyes started to droop closed again. Minutes later he was asleep.

“Samuel Wayne,” she whispered quietly as the baby slept soundly in her arms.

He would be everything his grandfather had taught their daughter to be. It had been years since he died, but his legacy lived on. He was a hero. He was a gentleman. He was a beautiful soul. He was everything Alison and Emily wanted their son to be.

#Pretty Little Liars #Emison #PLL #Emison prompt

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irenedonnee · 4 years

Text

One shot

For the mood board challenge by @outlanderlush and @iamnottrisha

A/N: So that was fun! Mood board by @holdhertightandsayhername and beta by the amazing @lcbeauchampoftarth ❤️ I hope you’ll enjoy!

On December 7th, Jamie arrived to the small village on the Isle of Skye that was infamous for the tragic bus accident that had killed thirty-five tourists; one of them being his estranged brother, Willie.

Jamie didn’t even remember what had caused the feud between them, seven months prior to the bus crash. It didn’t matter. His big brother was dead and Jamie never had the chance to say goodbye.

During the year after Willie’s death, Jamie tried to find a way to remember his brother. He wrote an article about his law firm, he sent money for the education of Stella, his niece, and he drank. He knew it was not the right thing to do, but only when he was drunk would Jamie stop feeling guilty for his brother’s death.

Nothing worked. So, after kissing Sarah and wishing her a Merry Christmas at the office party, he drove to the train station and bought a ticket to Scotland.

Jamie lived in London, in a small apartment. He had no partner, no pet, no plants; only a bar filled with the finest bottles of whisky and wine. He would not get drunk on cheap alcohol.

He had a very successful career, but he found he had this emptiness inside him. It wouldn’t go away, and got even worse after Willie’s death. His family lived in Scotland and he barely saw them. He wanted nothing to do with them — he was still so bitter and angry. He had never felt loved by them.

His life was a mess.

It took hours for Jamie to reach the quaint village, but he didn’t notice the time passing by. He was lost in his head, thinking about his life, from his birth to Willie’s death. He didn’t consider the last year as living, but mostly surviving.

Jamie was left by the bus on the sidewalk, alone with his leather bag. He took a deep breath of fresh air, looking around. Gradually, Jamie felt a weird sense of serenity fill his soul. Considering the tragic history that was related to the place, the last thing Jamie had expected coming here was peace. He reasoned that he should have come earlier.

Putting his bag on his shoulder, Jamie headed to the local bar that was just on the other side of the road.

A bell rang when he opened the door, and he was surprised to find the place almost empty. There were a few men playing pool and some others drinking beer around tables. Jamie noticed a couple sitting next to each other on the same side of the table. The image of Sarah crossed his mind, but he pushed it away. They had just started seeing each other, and he didn’t want to think about where this relationship was heading just now.

Jamie sat at the bar, putting his bag on the seat next to him.

“Hey.”

He looked up at the barmaid. She was tall, with wild dark hair in a messy bun. He felt her amber eyes looking into his soul, making him feel uncomfortable. Her pink lips were curled up in a small smile.

“Hi,” he said in a breath.

“Tourist?”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

“Welcome,” she said. She stared at him without saying anything. He didn’t really know what to do, as he grew paralyzed by her beautiful eyes. “What can I get you?”

“Uh…” he swallowed, not able to look away from her face. “A whisky, please.”

She smiled and poured him a glass. “There.” She put a napkin in front of him and handed him the glass. “It’s cold outside.”

“Aye,” he smiled, taking a sip. “You’re a Sassenach.”

“Obviously,” she smiled in return, showing off her teeth.

“What are you doing here in the middle of nowhere?”

“Oh, I don’t tell my secrets that easily.” She waved her eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”

Jamie grinned, taking a long sip of whisky, emptying his glass. “Oh, I don’t tell my secrets that easily either,” he responded as he handed her the glass.

She eyed him, the corner of her mouth curled up, before refilling his glass.

“Thank ye.”

There was a cozy atmosphere in the bar that warmed his heart.

“Do you own the place?”

“Yes,” she answered proudly. “I started it almost three years ago now.” She took a glass and wiped it with a towel.

“It’s really nice.”

“Thank you,” she smiled sincerely.

She wasn’t speaking much, only giving short answers and mysterious smiles, but Jamie was mesmerized by this woman. He wasn’t thirsty anymore, but he didn’t want to leave just yet. So, he ordered another drink.

He spent the night at the bar, talking to her or simply looking at her when she was serving other clients. He noticed the crescent moon necklace and the horseshoe tattoo on the inside of her arm. There was something mystical about her, and for a moment, he wondered if she was a witch.

When it was closing time, Jamie rose and put his bag strap on his shoulder. “It was lovely to meet you. I didn’t quite get your name.”

She smiled at him. Her eyes looked tired and her hair was even messier than when he came in the bar. “Claire.”

“Claire,” he repeated with a sly smile. “I’m Jamie.”

After one last look over his shoulder, he left the bar. The cold of the winter night knocked the air out of his lungs. He closed his arms tightly around his chest and made his way to the bed and breakfast that was on the other side of the road.

There was a light on n the lobby, so Jamie made his way inside. An old woman was sitting by the desk reading a book. When he entered, she looked up at him with a smile and greeted him. He eventually booked a room for the next few days..

It was a small room with a bed that groaned loudly when he laid down, but the exhaustion of the day had him falling asleep without even taking his shoes off.

***

Jamie spent the following day wandering through the village. It was a small community, only taking fifteen minutes to walk through it. The bed and breakfast and Claire’s bar were further down towards the end of the street, in a more deserted area. In the light of day, Jamie saw that the bar was facing the sea. He sat on a bench and stared at the raging water for a few hours.

He didn’t know why he had come here, what he had expected to find. It seemed as if there was nothing to do in this village but wait for the day of your death to arrive. It was depressing, and he realized it didn’t help his state of mind much after all. The peacefulness of the place was becoming heavy.

Yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about the woman from the bar. Claire. There was something about her that made Jamie want to go back and see her. The bar opened at seven, but he didn’t want to be the first client.

The day was unending, and as the hours went by, he was growing more anxious at the idea of seeing her again.

He stopped by a tiny restaurant to eat fish and chips while reading the local newspaper. He stopped by his room to take a long shower and watch television. Finally, he put on his coat and crossed the road to Claire’s bar.

It was earlier than the previous night, so he was surprised when he opened the door to see it full of people. It was loud with the sound of people talking and laughing, but it still had the same cozy ambiance.

He immediately spotted Claire standing by a table, talking with two fishermen. Her fists were on her waist and she was laughing. Jamie was immediately taken aback by how stunning she was. Her hair was still like an aura around her head.

She saw him and smiled. He had to remind himself to breathe before smiling back and walking to an empty seat by the bar.

“You’re back,” she said, a few minutes later. She stood in front of him behind the bar.

“I am back. I told you it’s a nice place.”

She smiled and handed him a whisky. “How long are you staying here?”

“Just a few days. And since there aren’t that many things to do here,” he raised his glass in front of her.

She chuckled and went to serve another client.

It took a couple of hours before she could speak to him for more than two minutes. Once the clients were gone and just a few remained, she went to him and let out a proud sigh. “What a night.”

“Is the place always full like that at this time?” Jamie asked.

“Yeah, it usually is on the weekend. Another one?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

She smirked. “Don’t take it personally,” she filled his glass, “it’s my job, after all.”

Jamie chuckled and watched her pour herself a glass. “I think I deserve it.” She clicked her glass with his and took a long sip. He watched her with the corner of his mouth curled up.

“You know I was thinking about you today?”

She raised her brow, encouraging him to continue.

“I was walking around the village and I wondered why an Englishwoman would move to a village this boring.”

“Oh, I don’t find it boring. Not at all. You see, I have my bar and a small apartment on the second floor. It has a fireplace and a big library. I have a spot right by a big bay window where I can paint. I love it. It’s calm, it’s peaceful. I used to live in London and I had a very small apartment. Even though I was surrounded by thousands of people, I felt more lonely than in this little village with 300 people.”

Jamie studied her face, wondering what kind of life she lived in London before moving here.

“That’s interesting. What did you do in London? Did you own a bar?”

She chuckled. “God, no. I was a surgeon.”

Jamie’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “A surgeon.” It was the last thing he had expected.

She grinned in her glass before taking another sip. “Surprise you?”

“Yes, not that you don’t look like you could be one. It’s just… very different than this and your art studio upstairs.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes that’s what we need. Like you, for instance. What are you doing here? Are you in some spiritual trip? Usually people go to warm places in the middle of winter.”

Jamie smiled sadly. “I guess you can call it that.” He didn’t want to talk about himself, as he was too captivated by Claire; but if he wanted her to trust him, he had to open up a bit.

“My brother died in the bus accident last year.” He saw a shadow cross her beautiful face. “We weren’t on good terms and I never had the chance to say I’m sorry, to say goodbye, to tell him I love him. I guess I’m trying to find a way to do so.”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a whisper. “That accident was tragic. I lost a friend of mine too.”

He looked up at her. “You did?”

“Yeah, my friend was also a surgeon from London. He was coming to visit me. You see, I burned the bridges to my old life, but he was my best friend. So he spent Christmas here with me and when he left, well…”

“I’m sorry. God, that’s terrible.”

She nodded. “Life is. We just need to find something to make it less terrible,” she smiled sadly.

That night, they talked until it was closing time. Unlike the day before, they talked about personal things, things they had never told anybody. It seemed so easy to do so; as if they had known each other their entire lives.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” Claire asked shyly, guiding Jamie to the door.

“Yes.”

So the day after, he was there as soon as the bar opened. He wasn’t the first customer, but this time, he didn’t care that he was there early. He had dinner while talking to Claire. As more people started to come in, he had to let her work, but he knew she wished she could be talking to him instead of working. A few hours later, when she was less busy, she came to sit next to him. She lit a cigarette and handed it to him, which he declined.

“I don’t smoke.”

She shrugged and took a long sip.

“I leave tomorrow,” he finally said.

For a split second, he thought he saw sadness in her eyes, but then it was gone.

“Oh,” she said. “I hope you enjoyed your time here and that you found what you were looking for.”

Peace, that was what Jamie was looking for. His brother was dead, there was nothing he could do to change it.

“You think my brother knows I’m sorry?”

Claire looked at him and shrugged. “Do you believe in God?”

“I used to, but now I’m not so sure.”

She thought about it for a long moment, smoking her cigarette. “I think you have to listen to your heart. It will tell you what you need to know. But siblings forgive each other, because that’s what families do. So, yes, I believe he knows.”

Jamie smiled and took her hand. “Thank you.”

She smiled back and bent to kiss him. They both were surprised by the gesture. “Sorry,” she apologized, pulling back, her cheeks turning pink. She got up and went back to work.

Jamie spent the night thinking about that kiss. Claire didn’t come to see him until the bar closed. When she did, the bar was empty, so Jamie closed his arms around her and kissed her.

They made their way to her apartment, not able to keep their hands off one another. They kissed deeply, took their clothes off, and jumped into bed. The way she kissed him, the way she touched him, healed him. And he hoped that it was the same for her.

At that moment, Jamie realized that he had found what he was looking for her. For the first time in years, he felt at peace. No weight on his shoulders, no aching heart. Everything he needed was in his arms.

He fell asleep with his head resting on her chest; and when he woke up the morning after, he left a note on the nightstand. He kissed her goodbye and went to gather his things at the bed and breakfast. As he sat on the bus, looking at the sea by the window, Jamie smiled to himself. He had found a safe haven, he had found peace, and he knew it was a feeling he was never going to let go.

He felt at peace, but he also felt as if he was living in a haze. He had drank a lot during the weekend and he wondered if this was real, or if it was just a dream. Was Claire even real?

He doubted for a moment, but never in his life had a dream made him feel so alive.

When Claire woke up, the sheets were cold. She noticed the paper on the nightstand and a smile lit her face when she read it.

To new traditions.

#mood board challenge #outlandee fanfic #one shot #mood board one shot #jamie and claire #au

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city-writes · 4 years

Text

Hot Rollers and Gossip

Rio finds her friendship with Alit strengthen in the most unusual of ways.

Warnings: Post-canon Pairings: Snowbirdshipping, Lionheartshipping, one-sided Seraphshipping, lots of Yuma-centric mentioned ships

Read it here on AO3!

-----

People really needed to learn how to lock the bathroom door when they were using it.

That was the thought that crossed Rio Kamishiro's mind the millisecond she saw the first sign of what she assumed was an unclothed Alit when she opened the bathroom door that morning, only to find said male already occupying the space inside. Thankfully, he was only shirtless, sparing her the act of bleaching her eyes from seeing anything unpleasant.

Alit, while surprised, didn't flinch and continued his morning routine, using a towel to wipe at his mouth, having just finished brushing his teeth. "You need the bathroom?"

Rio looked him over, her eyes rising to his hair. Before she could stop herself, she spoke. "Curlers?"

In his usually curly brown hair were, in fact, hot rollers. While his hair usually covered part of his face, the hot rollers rose it up, exposing his full face. Alit blinked, tracing Rio's gaze to the aforementioned curlers in his hair. "Oh... these?" He asked, using one hand to point at his head.

She expected him to get huffy and indignant, expected him to get flustered, maybe even get mad. What she didn't expect was the bright smile that graced his tanned face.

"Looks like you caught me, huh?" Alit's grin failed to fade as he spoke, "Not that I was tryin' ta hide it or anything; No one ever asked." He turned to admire himself in the mirror, looking over his curling hair. "If I don't do something with it, it just poofs and goes everywhere."

Rio watched Alit as he admired himself, and found herself too curious to leave. "So why curl it? Why not do something else with it?"

The grin on Alit's face finally faltered, but only for the briefest of moments - so brief Rio almost missed it. "Its how I was shown in my past life!" He explained, not taking his sight off his reflection. "Koutei used these oils and other stuff to tame my hair, but this modern stuff you guys have now is so much simpler? It's great."

Rio blinked at the mention of Koutei, not having heard the name before, but at hearing the rest of Alit's explanation, couldn't help but laugh, not out of cruelty, but out of amusement. "Yeah, I guess so, Alit."

Alit's grin turned playfully coy then, glancing at Rio from the corner of his eye. "Y'know, I could always curl your hair if you wanted. I've got free time today."

A smirk tugged at the edge of Rio's lips then, her gaze meeting Alit's. "Oh please, you wouldn't be able to handle my hair. I can barely handle my hair."

"Is that a challenge?"

___________________

This was how Rio found herself in her bedroom with Alit, her hair pinned up in layers as Alit put hot rollers in it.

"Your hair's alot thicker than it looks," Alit admitted as he set her brush down, starting to set hot rollers on her bottom-most layer of hair. His own curlers were no longer in, and his hair was back to its usual style, covering part of his face.

"I know," Rio replied, relaxing in front of her vanity as she watched Alit work through the mirror. "But I have to admit, you're impressing me right now." She chuckled as Alit shot her a grin of approval through the mirror, and continued, "Are you going to curl all of it?"

"D'ya want me to curl all of it?" Alit arched a brow, pausing his movements momentarily.

"If you want," came Rio's calm answer, as she toyed with the bristles on her brush, "I don't have to meet with Kotori until noon, so I have time." She could feel a heat growing against her scalp as Alit continued to apply the curlers and exhaled slowly, her hair being thinned by layering causing her to feel the heat against her scalp more quickly than normal.

Alit noticed her brief uncomfort and spoke. "Lets just start with the bottom and see how it looks from there."

A comfortable silence settled between them as Alit worked, Rio being mindful not to move her head too much as he did. As he finished with that first layer, he held his hand out for her brush, and Rio complied, handing it to him. "Thanks." He muttered, a muted look of thought on his face as he began to brush out her next layer of hair.

Rio noticed his expression through the mirror and frowned. "What's wrong?"

Alit blinked, and looked at the mirror, shaking his head. "Just thinking."

"You? Thinking? Wow," Rio playfully teased, smiling as she spoke, "I should tell Durbe, he'd be so proud."

Alit laughed at that, his head falling back slightly as he did. "Oh please, nothing I do will be good enough for him, that stick in the mud." He continued brushing her hair, and spoke again. "Its just, well..." His eyes glanced from side to side, like he was confirming they were indeed alone in Rio's bedroom, "You and Kotori, huh? Is there anything there?"

"Alit," Rio said, feigning offense as she raised a hand to her heart, "don't tell me you're a gossip."

"No, no, its not gossip, per se," Alit rebutted, putting Rio's brush down, "I just see the way you look at her, and was wondering, is all."

Rio smiled, putting her hand down. "For your information, there's nothing going on between us."

"Doesn't mean there's not something there though."

"Maybe," Rio replied, "but I'm content just being friends. Besides, she's already got feelings for Yuma."

"Yuma."

As Rio spoke Yuma's name, Alit spoke it at the same time, nodding as he did so. He hadn't moved to put in any curlers yet, and there was a far-away look in his eye.

"Alit?"

"And it gets even more complicated, because Yuma's got feelings for Astral." Alit continued, absentmindedly running his fingers through Rio's hair. "But you got Kotori who's got feelings for Yuma, you got Vector, you got Ryoga, you got Anna, you got Michael... And who knows what Astral's feelings are for Yuma?"

"...Maybe they're the same as yours." Rio concluded, watching the way Alit spoke about this letting her realize that Alit also had feelings for Yuma.

Alit swallowed harshly, before plastering a grin on his face, looking at Rio through the mirror. "Maybe." He reached towards the rollers then, and began applying them to Rio's hair.

"...You want to talk about it?"

"Nah," Alit dismissed, shaking his head. "I've had my chance, and it's alright. I'll always see him as an angel, but its 's ok if he's not my angel."

If she hadn't been getting her hair done, Rio would have tilted her head somewhat at that. "An 'angel'?"

Grinning, Alit nodded. "Yep, an angel! I've only ever known three."

"That's more than most people ever know in one lifetime." Rio commented, amused at Alit's angel antics.

"Luckily I've had three lifetimes, so it all averages out."

Rio laughed at that, before folding her arms and giving a thoughtful look. "Three angels, you said? So one's Yuma..."

"One's Kotori." Alit admitted, causing Rio to gasp slightly. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna steal her from you."

"You better not." Rio playfully threatened. "If I find you curling her hair--"

"Don't worry," Alit repeated, "Aside from my own hair, yours is the only one I'll curl."

"Well I'm honored." Rio replied. "Not even halfway through my first hair curling session with you and you've already pledged your loyalty to me. I'm lucky Ryoga's hair is naturally curly or else who knows - you might go gossip with him too."

"Is that really what we're doing here - gossiping?" Alit asked with a smile.

"Yes!" exclaimed Rio, who smiled back in return. "You don't know for sure all those people have feelings for Yuma, you just think they do."

"Have you seen they way they all act around him!?"

"It's still gossip."

Alit sighed, shaking his head. "It may as well be fact."

"Maybe." Rio said, closing her eyes as Alit continued to outfit her hair in the rollers. A few moments of silence passed between them before she spoke again. "Who was the third person?"

Alit finished with that second layer of hair, and shifted where he stood, his gaze falling to the floor before speaking. "There was an emperor in my past life, named Koutei. He was... he was my everything. He was my first angel."

Rio was silent then recognizing the name from earlier. She knew that whatever good Alit had had with Koutei was shattered by Don Thousand's interference. "I'm sorry I asked."

"Don't be." Alit assured her, shaking his head, "I like remembering him. It reminds me of all the good times we had."

"How did you meet him?" Rio asked.

So Alit told her everything: How they met, how they slowly fell in love, how great everything had been until Don Thousand's interference. He even told her how he himself had died. All this, while still doing her hair.

When he was done, Rio was silent, taking in everything she'd heard. Alit was silent as well, having basically told Rio nearly everything about his first life, something that no one outside of Yuma and Astral knew. Alit finished up the last curl on Rio's last layer of hair, and murmured, "All done."

Rio looked at herself in the mirror, smirking at the sight of her head all hot rollered up. "Don't I make quite the sight?"

The two laughed, easing some of the serious mood, when Rio noticed Alit's nails. Various nails were chipped, and they were all pretty much different sizes: some longer, some shorter. Not wanting their conversations to end, Rio reached into her vanity's drawer and pulled out a nail file and some clear, nail-strengthening nail polish. "Do you want me to fix your nails?"

__________________________

Kotori walked into the Kamishiro manor, let in by Mizael, and walked towards Rio's room. They were supposed to meet an hour ago and Rio wasn't answering her calls! She wasn't mad per se, just concerned. Did she forget? Did she take a nap and just not wake up yet? Did she--

Kotori's thought process stopped as she heard laughter and banter from Rio's room. Curious, she knocked on the door. The laughter and banter died down to hushed whispers, before Rio's voice rang clear with a "Come in!"

As she opened the door, Kotori was surprised to find Alit in Rio's room with her. The sight before her was unique, to say the least: Rio had her hair up in curlers, and she was doing Alit's nails at her vanity.

"Uh, should I come back later, or...?"

"Nah, its fine!" Alit said, smiling at Kotori. "We were just talkin' about different stuff is all."

"I thought we were going to meet at the mall." Rio replied, looking somewhat confused.

"Yeah, we were." Kotori explained, "An hour ago."

"An hour? I'm that late?" Rio asked, her eyes widening somewhat. She looked at Alit then, "Am I good to get these curlers out of my hair?"

"Yeah, sure," Alit pulled his hands away from Rio, gently blowing on his nails. "I just need these to dry already so I can take those rollers out."

"I can help!" Kotori explained, moving closer to Rio. "My mom uses them, and sometimes asks me to help take them out."

"Ok then," Alit replied, smiling, "you take out her rollers while I wait for my nails to dry."

Alit watched as Kotori carefully removed the rollers from Rio's hair, watching their expressions as Rio's hair curled nicely bit by bit. Rio's expression was clearly impressed, as she raised a hand to gently stroke a curl. Kotori's expression, however, was sheer awe, as well as a little something that caused Alit to smirk.

"What do you guys think?" He asked.

"It looks good, Alit." Rio said, looking over herself in her vanity mirror.

"Yeah, she looks so pretty!" Kotori exclaimed, her eyes practically shining as she looked over Rio.

Alit's smirk grew at that, and he urged Rio and Kotori away from the vanity and to the bedroom door. "You should prob'ly head to the mall then, before it gets late."

"Alright, alright, we're going." Rio said, shifting away from Alit. "Thank you for doing my hair."

"Nah, its no problem." He dismissed, waving a hand at her. "I had fun. Now thats what you two should go do now."

The two girls gave their goodbyes and walked out the room, leaving Alit alone with his rollers. He allowed himself to smile as he recalled the past few minutes. Rio didn't notice; She was too busy admiring herself in the mirror. But Alit saw. He saw the way Kotori looked at Rio.

Maybe there was hope for her and Kotori yet.

#Zexal #Snowbirdshipping #Lionheartshipping #Rio Kamishiro #Alit #Kotori Mizuki #Today's just 'Krys uploads everything she forgot to upload' day #Krys writes

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kittenshift-17 · 4 years

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that whole is ‘i love you’ ‘you don’t but thanks for saying it anyway’ UGH I HATED THAT. GOD it was just so patronizing! like thx for sacrificing urself! could’ve given this to my ex but i chose you! bc ur in love with me and will do anything for me! like that was just a slap in the face. she clearly never saw him as an equal even with a soul. with angel she would’ve given him a million chances even if he killed more people she loved but spike was just a punching bag. (4/multi)

Actually, for my own thinking (which I confess has been wildly influenced by the amount of Spuffy fanfic I’ve devoured) I do think Buffy meant it when she said she loved him. I think that SMG did a really bad job delivering that line, but I do think she loved him. Maybe not like we would hope, but she realised when she was about to lose him that she loved him and liked having him in her life. We see that in the way she says “I’m not ready for your to not be here” and we see it depicted through the eyes of the others, like Giles, “There’s a connection. He relies on you. You rely on him.”

There’s no denying that they do feel something for each other. I think it’s just that Buffy spent so long fighting it - so long being determined to hate him, and to want nothing to do with him even when she lusted after him, that even then - even when he’s about to die after proving once and for all that he IS the good guy, despite a lifetime as the Big Bad - it’s hard for Buffy to accept, and harder for her to admit. The human animal is conditioned to believe that we’re never wrong, and to feel shame and anger when it’s proved that we are, in fact, incorrect about something. Buffy is stubborn and prideful and self-righteous and to have been so wrong about Spike, and to have made him suffer for it - to have made herself suffer for it by resisting him when she could’ve been loving him - had to be a bitter pill to swallow.

Spike’s evil. There is no doubt about that. He’s without conscience for the majority of the series, and he proves time and again that he’s in it for himself first, and everyone else as an afterthought. Even when he admits that’s he’s a Grey Hat, or even part of the Scooby Gang, he is begrudging and childish and immature about it. You spend a century being evil and ruthless and a killer, having been trained in it from when he first rose at Angel’s knee, and it’s a hard habit to break. He plays Kitten Poker, don’t forget. He eats kittens. He eats babies and little children. When he first comes to Sunnydale, he kills a man who he claims is too old, because he prefers lamb to mutton. He’s not going to eat him. He just kills him for kicks. Like... Spike is a bad guy. He’s a Big Bad and he’s proud of it because in the world he’s come to know, that’s the thing to be. The demonic underworld is where the biggest and baddest are the best off and the most popular and Spike covets that and acts in whatever way necessary to be that and maintain that for a long time. He pitted his will against Buffy. Stalked her. Studied her. Learned everything he could about her in an effort to kill her - and he didn’t have any good reason for wanting to kill her, other than to improve his reputation as the Slayer of Slaryers and an extra oomph for his Big Bad image. He didn’t need her blood. He didn’t need her soul. He didn’t need to kill her. He just wanted to. Okay, yes, so did Angel, but at least with Angel it was because he claimed she made him feel human and without his soul, being/feeling human is a despicable weakness. Humans today kill people for that very reason. Spike just wanted to kill her because he thought it would be fun, and because he wanted the thrill of the fight and the rush of tasting her blood.

So, yeah. I do understand Buffy being a bitch to him all that time, and I understand Buffy hating herself and beating herself up for wanting him even despite knowing what a bad guy he was, had been, is, and could return to being. Don’t forget that when Spike came back to Sunnydale and got chipped in the first place, he came back with the Gem of Amara, intending to kill Buffy. He still tried to kill her and to hurt her friends several times even after he was chipped. He wasn’t all sunshine and puppies. That said, neither was Buffy, and the older and more mature she gets, the more we see of that.

The show did a fabulous job of depicting the hard knocks that come amid the transititon from idealistic teenager into cynnical young adult and I commend all of the writers for the way they portrayed that. Buffy grows steadily more bitter with age, not just after being ripped out of heaven, but right from the beginning. We see the idealism and hope of first love, and the crushing pain when it’s dashed. We see the fear and despair of learning someone we love has betrayed us and wants to hurt us. We see the betrayal of a father figure turning on us for the sake of doing his job, and the misjudgements our parents make. We see the transition from high school into the real world, and the way it can warp and twist friendships we’d relied so heavily upon into something that becomes a chore. We see the way friendships change as we grow apart, and the way the choices our friends make impact not just their lives, but ours too. We see the way it feels to want someone you know is bad for you; someone who is bad, period. We see the trials of losing a parent, and takcling motherhood, and the tribulations of needing to find work to have money, and the wretched disappointment when the good things we were all promised don’t pan out that way. Watching those scenes as an adult, having lived a number of them myself, those things are bang on, man.

There are definitely things about the show that I hate; that “I love you” “No you don’t, but thanks for saying it” scene among them, but there is so much richness there, that how can you not love it? Even in that scene, those words from Spike scream so much. They show that he’s been pushed away one too many times. That he doesn’t trust easily anymore, not even himself, and especially not Buffy. I truly think in those moments, when Buffy says she loves him, she can barely beleive it herself, and she doesn’t want to say it at all, but she says it anyway because she knows this is her last chance to do so - her only chance to do so - and we also see how Spike’s been bitten once too often to beleive her. He wanted so long for her to love him, and she spurned him every time. Never said it. Refused to feel it, even, perhaps, when she did feel it just the same way she felt lust for him. He doesn’t believe her because he’s spent a lifetime, it seems, listening to her tell him what a monster he is and how she could never love something like him. He refuses the words because he thinks she’s only saying them out of pity. And in a way, she kind of is. Were he not about to save the world by sacrificing himself, she likely never would’ve fully, truly beleived it herself that she loved him, and even if she did, she would never say it. She only says it because he is dying, and so he thinks she is only saying it to make him happy in his final moments. But there’s too much pain and too much bad blood and bad feelings and hurt and anger and betrayal there for it to feel like more than a platitiude to Spike.

As a fangirl, as a viewer, a reader and a writer, the whole scene is a kick in the gut and not the HEA we all so desperately wanted for the two of them. But as an adult, as a person with understanding of everything Joss was trying to portray - everything that is so much bigger than fanciful romance - I do completely understand the purpose and maybe even the necessity of that scene playing out exactly as it was written. No matter how painful and ugly and disappointing. That’s life, after all....

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stoopsbookstore · 5 years

Text

Thirteen Princes Masterlist

Inspired by a post @dahyunmingyu made about Seungkwan being Mrs. Potts and Chan being Chip

Hello, reader. I'm the narrator, you may call me The Bookkeeper. I'm here to tell you the stories of 13 boys, all of whom I witnessed firsthand. I'll be by your side as you read about the story of each prince, no matter how twistedly heartbreaking, how teeth-melting fluffy, how virigious smutty or terrifying horrific it gets. I remember each story like it was yesterday. The thirteen princes of Pledis Kingdom are famous for being a tightly knit group, they're rarely seen in a group less than 4. Each prince has his own cut of the land and their families are known throughout the island for their synchronization when it comes to wars and battles. Each prince has his own story to tell, maybe a story never told, one you saw in a theatre or one you used to be read at night. You may be used to seeing the colorful images, hearing the vivid songs, but some may be more, how you say, dramatic or violent. The thirteen princes are eager to tell their stories and here's where you begin.

Fluff - 🧁

Angst - 🙁

Smut - 😳

Horror - 👻

Seungcheol (Robin Hood)

The eldest prince has a secret, he's the vigilante the resident head of knights is after. He's been taking a small portion of the goods and money that had been seized by the knights and giving it back to the poor, the children and the ones who struggle from time to time. To hoard this gold and not help the village pissed him off. When he starts to fall for a maiden, he's torn between his feelings and her safety. A smut/angst loosely based on Robin Hood.

Seungcheol is the first in line for the throne, a good prince. Maybe he should be careful of his little secret.

Jeonghan (Beauty and the Beast)

A horrible curse was placed on the prince of the Yoon kingdom. One cold night, a witch attempts to tricks the young Jeonghan to letting her in the castle. He rejected as he didn't know who was standing in front of him. Feeling hurt and betrayed by the so-called nice, charming prince Yoon, she cursed him to look like a unlovable beast until someone loved him for true or when the last petal fell of a rose colored blue. No one dared to go near the castle until the local inventor is kidnapped and the town blames the beast who may not even exist. The daughter of the inventor decides to investigate herself and meets the beast and his way of living. A horror story based on Beauty and the Beast.

Joshua (Snow White)

A hunter who was sent on a mission by the queen to kill a girl, the queen's envy of her beauty the cause of the heinous crime. But when he came back empty-handed, the queen sent her son, Joshua, to kill the girl, to toughen him up, teach him the world is cruel and unfair. When the two meet, it was love at first sight and Joshua helps the girl hide until his mother catches wind of the girl being seen on the outskirts of town. Clearly the rule "don't take candy from a stranger" doesn't exist in the Pledis kingdom as the girl is soon kidnapped after eating a poisoned apple. An angst/smut based on Snow White.

Jun (Sleeping Beauty)

The section of Pledis ran by the Wen family falls under a deep sleep when the curse placed upon Prince Jun when he was born finally comes true. A mysterious girl sent by her mother bearing gifts soon finds the ghost town, vacant of life, any bodies to be seen were in a death-like sleep. Her heart too fragile to experience the destruction finds the prince, a familiar face she thinks, and tries to awaken him. A horror/smut story based on Sleeping Beauty.

Hoshi (Cinderella)

The dance was supposed to bring everyone together, not tear them apart. A shoe found by the prince, a show belonging to the girl he danced with, the girl who would become his princess and eventually his queen. Families tore apart because their daughter's foot wouldn't fit, daughters disowned because they're not the next queen, girls cutting off their heels and toes to impress Prince Hoshi. All the girls in the kingdom are accounted for, except one who is known by her family as Cinderella, but she hasn't been seen in years. Hoshi feels this is his future wife and he's determined to find where she is and what her family is covering. A horror story based on Cinderella.

Wonwoo (Tangled)

Prince Wonwoo has been meeting a girl in a tower for years, ever since they were children. He never knew her name for she doesn't have one, at least she think she doesn't have one. One day, while they were playing, her caretaker called out for her, Wonwoo hiding under the bed, seeing the girl with magical hair helping the woman through the window. The woman started to beat the little girl, Wonwoo struggling to keep his anger back. As the woman left, he came out, telling his friend that he will rescue her one day and they'll go to the Lantern festival held by the Pledis kingdom every year. An angst based on Tangled/Rapunzel.

Woozi (Atlantis)

Only rivaled by Wonwoo as the kingdom's booknerd, the determined prince is ready to find a hidden city, long believed to be lost. He reads stories of Queen Kahi and the Pristin Princesses, fascinated by how an entire city can just vanish. His friends think he is foolish, except for the aforementioned Wonwoo, but he is convinced that there is a surviving kingdom under their very own. His expedition drags him and his 12 friends into a wild adventure. A mashup of all 4 genres, most likely a multi-part.

You know this story is a mash-up of everything, it may not be contained to just one story, there's simply too much to his adventures and misdeeds.

DK (The Little Mermaid)

He would always sing to anyone who would listen, children, elderly, even animals that passed by. His favorite place was the pier behind the kingdom, hidden in the forest. He liked to think the fish below the surface could hear and enjoy his music, and it was true. A mermaid started to leave him little gifts and notes as trinkets from under the sea. He has only caught a glimpse of her face, but he remembers the tail vividly, rose quartz, a pale pink representing love and healing and a light blue the kingdom dubbed Serenity. Unfortunately, he also attracted the worst type of sea creature. The sea witch, Ursula, wanted his voice as her own, so she tricked into being her own personal singer in hopes that he will find the girl. With time running low, what can Dokyeom do with no voice? A horror/fluff story based on the Little Mermaid.

Mingyu (Aladdin)

Growing up, Mingyu had to do some things he wasn't proud of. Steal a loaf of bread here, stab this man over there, yeet that guard to the kingdom over, you know... normal boy stuff. When Mingyu finds a lamp and is given a chance to impress the one girl he has had his eyes on for years, he discovers that maybe it's not your past or how you present yourself, but maybe it's what's on the inside that counts. A fluff/angst story loosely based on Aladdin

Minghao (Mulan)

When his father discovers that Minghao refuses to teach a local townsgirl because his admittedly sexist views, he tells the young prince the story of two lovers who were thrown for a whirlwind when a sudden war threatens to destroy the kingdom. An angst/fluff story based on Mulan

Seungkwan (Emperor's New Groove)

Cocky, brash, aggressive, flamboyant, loud, all these words can describe Boo Seungkwan. He has that type of personality that can make you love him or will make you want to rip his throat out. The villagers get fed up, and when one deranged kingdom workers attempts to poison him and he goes missing, no one seems to notice. It's not until a local girl, Y/N, finds a lost llama in the wild that Seungkwan realizes that maybe he is a bit too much. An angst based on Emperor's New Groove.

Vernon (The Princess and The Frog)

You would think the first time Vernon almost got cursed, he would stop asking strange people for his fortune, but no. The 2nd youngest prince asked for his future from a voodoo doctor and was transformed into a frog, the curse only to be broken by a kiss from a princess. When he convinced a girl who he thought was a princess to kiss him, the two are dragged into a trip where they must figure out how to get cured and avoid being found by the voodoo doctor. An angst/fluff based on The Princess and The Frog.

Dino (Frozen)

The youngest prince had a brother, it's rumored that the brother is dead or a traitor to the Pledis Kingdom. The truth is much more heartbreaking. The boy was locked up after accidentally injuring Dino with his ice powers. Dino was confused as to why his brother was locked up, so he constantly visited the door his brother was held captive behind, trying to talk to him, day after day, month after month, year after year. When the town is submerged into an endless winter, Dino has to figure out the cause with the help of a strange townsgirl before his brother is killed or the town is destroyed. A horror/angst based on Frozen.

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