#its like when you realise your cat has somehow made its way onto your lap without you noticing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honeyhenry · 3 years

Text

Tiny Vol. 2: Kal + Will

you can read the first instalment of Tiny here!

A/N: I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!! All the love for our sweet bear and Henry of course! And baby Will my new fave 😍

Warnings: Premature labour, a LOT of fluff

as a family of three, you, Henry and Kal were the dream team

Kal had of course taken to you the moment you’d met him

a lot of the time Henry claimed you were more loving towards the big bear than him; “I’m your actual boyfriend, remember?”

Kal naturally being part of your inevitable wedding

hell, he was likely part of the proposal, as role of The Distractor, while Henry would wait on bended knee behind you

Kal knew that he didn’t have a place on the big kingsize bed, but that never stopped him from standing by the closed door of the bedroom whenever you and Henry were occupying it, waiting for either an invitation for cuddles, or for your day to start so he could have some company

and any available snacks, of course

On Henry’s birthday, just over a year into your marriage, you’d bribed the Akita with an extra large prime rib steak in the kitchen so that he could stay content downstairs, while you kept Henry more than content upstairs

It was only 3 weeks later that Kal started to press his large head onto your stomach

at first it was endearing, but over time he became persistent and Henry often had to get him to heel so that he would keep out of your way

it was only one missed period later that you realised your fluffy companion might have been onto something

with a fairly tame schedule for now, you and Henry had stopped “not trying” for a baby, deciding instead to just let it happen when it happened

and somehow Kal had been the first to find out that it had indeed, happened

over the next few weeks and months, it wasn’t just your large, concerned husband that was protective over you, but your bear of a dog too

by the time you were showing, Kal was in full guard dog form, growling at anyone who expressed any form of interest towards your growing belly

even Henry was on the receiving end of a warning growl now and then

but most of the time, Kal knew that Henry was likely safe, based on the look of love he often saw on his owner’s face towards you, and the special little moments his two humans have together with whatever is blooming within you

any strangers that get close to you would face the wrath of Kal because if whatever is happening gets this much love and attention, then it must be special to his Henry and his Mama

Kal hangs around you a lot, favouring you over Henry, especially in your last trimester

which makes Henry pout because damn it, Kal is taking his place most of the time

“Only because i’m carrying a little you.” you’d reassure your husband “he’ll be back to his Henry-loving ways after baby’s born.”

Kal often lays his big head on your bump when Henry isn’t there because he knows you’ll let him get away with it

but if Henry spots him he receives a “Kal, off!” just for your goofy husband to rest his own head there instead, chattering to the baby about things that sometimes have you falling asleep

his voice is soothing, yes

but his video game talk is just the perfect soundtrack for a nap

you get slower and slower as you enter the last few months

soon its just Kal and Henry going for walks together at the park

your bear always whined to you, pawing at your lap as you curl up on the sofa, while Henry would attempt to nod him over to the door

“Mumma can’t come today, she’s staying here with the baby. But she’ll call us if anything happens”

You get a soft kiss on the lips from one member of your family, and a lick on the hand from the fluffier one

Did you know it was Kal who saved the day, the morning you went into early labour?

you’d winced at a small twinge of pain, and then groaned out loud, taken by surprise as you had just been peeling some apples to be made into a stew

the sun was rising slowly, glinting the dewy grass out in the garden, your favourite view from the kitchen window

Henry was in his study, a floor up, with headphones on, completely oblivious to what was happening downstairs

clinging to a table, you’d started to feel tight pain across your belly, issuing you with a mild dose of panic

of course, as Kal has been by your side for the past few months, he’s right there in an instant

he rushes over to you, sensing that something is wrong, watching you as you attempt to sit down on the floor to try and take control of the pain

he had pressed his big head to yours, nudging you as if to ask what he should do

“Get henry, go get Henry, Kal”

you didn’t have to tell him twice

he’d bolted to the study seeking out henry, knocking over everything he flies past, running as fast as he possibly can within the confines of the walls in the house

he was loudly barking the whole time, knowing that right now you are in jeopardy and that his Henry is your only saving grace

he’d burst into Henry’s study nearly knocking the door off its hinges, almost jumping onto Henry’s lap

immediately Henry knew that something was wrong

normally a gentle giant around the house, Kal is bumping into things trying to reach his master, to get you the help you needed from Henry

“Kal, Kal show me where, what’s wrong. Is it Y/N? The baby? Mumma?”

He received a large bark in return, before Kal was rushing back to the kitchen to show his Henry where you were

Henry had raced behind Kal to where you were, panicking as he heard you call for him weakly

he eventually found you, sitting on the kitchen floor and clutching your belly in pain

Kal had stood by the door, watching Henry take over, his muscular form lifting you up and holding you close to get you to safety over on a soft chair

“it’s too early love, it’s got to be false contractions”

“they don’t feel false”

Kal had watched as Henry made a couple of calls, with sweat collecting at his brow

He had then spent a few moments with you, counting and calculating timings on his watch while you’d cried “it can’t be time, he’s not ready Henry”

Kal watched his Henry take your hands and stay close to you, trying to keep calm on the surface while making you a myriad of promises

just 10 minutes later, Kal had been left in the house alone

his only hope was that you and his Henry will be okay when you return

he’d had a strange few days at a friend’s house

their garden was smaller and they had a cat, but Kal hadn't minded them too much

he had still been concerned about where his Henry and his Y/N went so suddenly

and why did you not want to take him with you?

On the Tuesday, Kal hears the words “You’re going back home today, to see your parents! And they have your baby brother waiting there too!”

Kal was delivered back home that afternoon, and comes bounding into the house, making a beeline for Henry who was waiting by the front door to greet his furry friend

You had stayed upstairs in the master bedroom with Will, making sure he was safe from the inevitable commotion downstairs

You’d heard Henry embrace Kal, talking to him like an old friend whom he hadn't seen in years

Kal was so riled up from being away for so long, and Henry still in a lovestruck daze from the last 72 hours

“I know we were gone so suddenly, but everything is okay. We’re back now, and we have someone special we want you to meet” you can hear your husband speak excitedly to the bear

Kal had whined in retaliation, as if to ask "why did you leave me, Henry? What could have possibly been so important?”

“Kal” and it’s Henry’s no nonsense voice that you’d recognised this time; “Your baby brother is upstairs with Mum but he is very little. Very, very small. And you’re a big bear. So we’re going to be calm. Okay? Calm and gentle bear, good boy.”

Henry's footsteps and the tinkling of Kal’s collar were becoming clearer and clearer before the door to the master bedroom creaks open

and there stands Kal in all his fluffy glory

Henry is right by him, watching over every move Kal makes, with baited breath in case he decides to make a running leap towards you and your tiny bundle of joy

Henry had looked up to you with a gentle grin, ensuring the door was left open in the event of any sporadic movements, particularly if Kal wasn’t interested in this new person after all

“Knock knock, Kal’s promised to be good if he wants to see his brother”

Kal wants to jump up onto the bed but he knows he can’t, no matter how curious he is

so he just waits patiently by the bed, because whatever you were holding seems important, especially given that Henry is being very stern with him

maybe this is the special thing that his Henry and Y/N had loved so much

he looks up at you as you lean down enough for him to see the baby’s little face

“Kal, this is your baby brother. This is who all the fuss has been about. he’ll be able to play with you some day, when he’s a bit bigger.”

Kal blinks, taking the situation in

A new smell, a new person

A new, tiny Henry

At this realisation, he fondly rested his head in your lap right next to Will, receiving praise from Henry “easy boy, good boy Kal”

Kal makes an oath there and then to protect his tiny Henry

He sniffed a blanketed foot carefully, nuzzling it before staring at your sweet baby’s face

You look up at Henry briefly, and he’s already watching you as the rest of the scene plays out

“I think our boys are going to get along just fine” you murmur, basking in the fond greeting between Kal and baby Cavill

only for it to end a moment later when your son squeaks the quietest noise, causing Kal to back up quickly, shocked by the sound

“Ohh, are you saying hello to Kal honey? He is so gentle and fluffy isn’t he?” you’d cooed to the fidgeting bundle in your arms

“i think it’s Kal who needs to watch out around here now” Henry comments with a grin

Whenever Henry goes out to play fetch with Kal in the huge garden - it may as well be a football field - you’d watch carefully from the balcony window while cradling Will, pointing out his how his Daddy throws a ball or a stick, and how clever Kal is for fetching and returning it

whenever your older boys are done, they both scramble to be first back to see you and the youngest of the Cavill pack

Will is often found snoozing, giving Kal the perfect excuse to curl up right alongside his crib him to protect him, should anything threaten his soft sleepy snores

And if Will is sleeping in the crib in the master bedroom right beside you and Henry, Kal paws at the door until he is let in, taking his rightful spot curled up beside his new best friend

If you or Henry, or a loving relative or friend is holding him, there is Kal right by their side, as if to stake his claim; “this is my baby”

In the middle of the night when Will starts crying, Kal is there first to check on his tiny Henry before he runs for immediate assistance

cue Henry having tripped over Kal in the middle of the night several times now, as Kal had rushed to the master bedroom and Henry having rushed out of it in the dark

Usually the consequences involve Henry taking a bump to his shin or his head, with you having to get up, turn the light on and fetch a crying baby Will

So yes, Kal is in the nursery a lot of the time and yes, you need to install a couple of night lights in the hallways so that Henry doesn’t ultimately fall down the stairs or continue to injure himself via a fluffy Kal on a rescue mission

Henry always exclaims the next morning “I can’t believe he’s always in the room”

Which makes you laugh, replying “You’re just jealous he loves Will more than you now. I have to say Will is taking the badge for favourite Cavill of the month in this household”

Will sleeps a lot, and when Kal eventually gets bored, he sticks his big head into the crib, panting and waiting for his tiny Henry to pay him some attention

when you catch him, you rub his big head, letting him sit on the bed while you cradle a snoozing Will

however if Henry catches Kal with his head in the crib? Kal is out of the nursery for the rest of the day

“He can’t stick his head in like that, I’m not having him hurting Junior, accident or not”

So you need to unite your parenting tactics to train your dog before you use them to parent Will

When he’s not in his crib, Will is in one of the new moving cribs that Henry had researched to death before ordering and consequently building himself

That was an especially hot day in your pregnancy, and it was in December

Kal often just lays and watches his little best friend in it for as long as he likes, as he soon realises his large Henry will allow him to do that

sometimes you see Will laying in the crib with lots of dog toys around him

courtesy of Kal, of course

typically, Henry will be around to supervise, always thanking Kal on Junior’s behalf, engaging his two dependents in conversation; “oh look another toy, Will. Thank you Kal”

Kal would already be out of the room to fetch another toy while tiny Will is taking a hardcore nap

feeding and putting weight on is hard work!!

Henry definitely gets a few stares at the park now; a big beefy man, pushing a high-tech stroller, alongside an absolute unit of a dog

Kal is obedient as always, walking nicely beside the stroller with his two Henrys

he’s not even tempted by puddles or ducks or squirrels

his focus is on his best friends, especially the one wearing their brand new sweater to signify his move to newborn sized clothing at the age of 9 weeks

he loves watching his Henry and his Mama celebrate his tiny best friend, no matter how small their achievements - or sweaters - are

Kal is always gonna look out for his large Henry and his new tiny Henry, who both have the same dark curls and sparkly eyes

He is just the most wonderful big brother you could ever have wished for your little boy, and you’re sure they will get into heaps of laughs and trouble when Will grows up to become a rambunctious toddler, with peels of giggles coming from wherever the two will be playing together

Kal has the patience of a saint, and it’s why you don’t worry at all when you find out a couple years later, that there will be two more little Henry’s for him to play with and guard, with his whole fluffy being

---

let me know what you think / any questions / any requests HERE

#Henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fan fiction #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fluff #dad!henry cavill #kal cavill #Kal + Will vibes #it's tiny will cavill's world we are all just living in it #cavillary

547 notes · View notes

slashingdisneypasta · 3 years

Text

Jack Bass x Younger!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Bass's.

Notes:

I have no idea when this is supposed to be set. Just go with it.

I have two things to say about Jack in this gif, though. 1. Does he not know how to carry a tray. And 2. I love this statement, here. Its like 'Bart's Dead, Chuck. I can barely contain my joy, Chuck. Its taking all my willpower, Chuck, to keep a monotonous expression. Also Chuck I am carrying a tray, do you see this?'

Plot: Bart Bass decides to be his creepy fucking self (Not that Jack is exponentially better in any way but whatever) towards you, Chuck's best friend- but thankfully, Jack accidentally walks in on the scene and gives you a get out of jail free card.

Good old 'lesser of two evils' shit. I love stuff like that.

Warnings: BART BASS being predatory, and a bit of age difference (You and Jack. I'm going by actors ages though so there's only a, like, 11 year age gap between him and Chuck which is not that bad if you ask me). Sexual references.

~~~

Chuck looks from his phone, that's flashing Blairs name, to you and your big, wide eyes and lips mouthing 'Don't you dare', then to his father quietly tapping away on his phone on the couch a few feet away... then back at his phone.

"Charles- " You hiss, prepared to threaten his very existence but he cuts you off first- slipping off the bar stool beside you and heading for the hallway.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom."

Why am I friends with him again!? You think, but stay quiet and hope that Bart doesn't realise that you're back there despite having said hello to you earlier when he came in. You think, if you stay quiet like a mouse, he will forget your existence and keep texting until Chuck gets back- although, who knows how long he and Blair can go on for.

Depends what its about, honestly. If its about revenge or espionage... well, the conversation could last quite some time.

Should I just leave?

The impulse to run away is a strong one, as you sit there with your cheeks heating up and you start to feel nauseated. You never liked Bart Bass, from the moment you met him. Before that, actually. You had heard Chuck talking about him to Nate before you even became friends with them, and none of what you heard was good. And then you did meet him, one day when Chuck invited you over to do a school project. Or 'school project' as he so obnoxiously put it. You really did end up just doing a school project, though. Hence your friendship nowadays. Bart was creepy towards you even then, at 16 with terribly died hair and the wrong eyeshadow.

You've been very careful since then to never be alone with him like this. You would talk to him at parties if you were forced to, say hello to him when Chuck had you at his place and the man walked by, but that is the extent of your communication with the creep. Always, always, someone would be around. Chuck, mostly. But also staff, or Nate, or random fundraiser ladies, or Jack who Chuck the bastard never left alone with all willy-nilly like this, unfortunately, or Lily, or literally anyone else possible on the earth.

You've even hidden away in the men's bathroom, which is disgusting no matter how expensive the restaurant, with Nate before to get away from this man when Chuck once ditched you both at a dinner with him. And that's the story of how you got your first kiss, too, and it was from Nate Archibald. Hell yes.

That's how much this man makes you want to grab your bag and flee.

But you don't. You stay glued to your seat, super still, listening only to the tap-tap-tapping noises that Bart makes and the bump-bump-bump noises your heart is making right into your throbbing ears.

Until it stops.

Not the bump-bump-bumping, oh no. The tapping. And, nightmarishly, it's replaced by a groan and footsteps coming towards your turned back.

"Y/N," As soon as he says your name, his hands fall on your your shoulders and you literally jump under his touch. Shit- Shit- Fuck- what's happening- "I've been meaning to speak with you recently but Chuck- ah. Well you know him. He refused to share with me your telephone number. But I knew you'd turn up here at some point, so not to worry."

"Uh... right." You cant even force yourself to be your normal, cheery, polite self in this position. You just want him to get. off. of. you.

"Did you want a drink?" He asks, in that possibly cheery (But only because its slightly louder then his usual husk level) but mostly still scary voice he uses to convey emotion, letting go of you thankfully and rounding to the other side of the bar. You shake your head, though. He raises his brows, picking out a scotch for himself. "You don't drink? Shocking, seeing as you're friends with my son."

Oh I drink. You think, giving him a shrug. Just not in situations like this one. Also, what must he think of Chuck? Jesus Christ. For sure, your boy likes debauchery but what's wrong with that?

"Well, I like that." Bart pauses before pouring his drink, to appreciate you. "Mature."

Damn it. It makes your skin absolutely crawl.

"So... " You take a deep breath, tucking your hair back behind your ears rather then ruffling it back like you usually would to get it out of your face- lest that be recognised as some kind of extremely subtle form of flirting. God, fear makes you think weird things. "What did you want to discuss?"

"Oh- Just, your future. Where are you going to school? Will you be sticking close to us?"

Us? US? No, I'll be far far away, from you.

You don't really want to tell Bart where you're going to be going to school, because in your fear addled brain you know that that will just lead to 'Which campus?', or 'Where will you be staying?' and you really don't want it to go there.

You're just taking another, shakier deep breath, when the front door of the apartment opens and shuts loudly and set of feet trample down the hallway towards you. Immediately total relief plashes over you and you wipe your face. Oh, thank god.

Jack Bass appears in the doorway to the living room, looking as put-together yet somehow simultaneously still totally relaxed, as always, and forces aa polite smile onto his handsome face. "Brother. Y/N? Its good to see you."

You have no idea. "Good to see you too Jack. Uh- Chuck's in the bathroom."

"Thanks. For that... enlightening, information, Y/N. I needed that." You cheeks flare up in embarrassment, but ultimately you just roll your eyes as Jack flashes you a subtle wink, and turns promptly to his - much, - older brother. "Bart."

The older brother in question looks less then pleased at his baby brothers appearance in his home. Right now. And he possibly isn't thrilled about that little wink, either. Like you two are in on some kind of joke together. "Jack... What are you doing here?"

"Simmer down, bro. Just visiting." Even you know that that excuse is weak, but anything that comes out Jack's own monotonous voice right now is blessed where you're concerned so you certainly don't say anything. Or make any faces, which would be more appropriate. "Y/N, I don't think Bart-man here's too happy about my presence." Hm, no. You'd have to agree with that observation- not that you've looked up at Bart since Jack came in. You wont risk it. Jack glides through the room with the practised grace of a man who's lived 3 quarters of his life in suits and the other, happier quarter in board shorts, and ends up right next to your chair, an arm resting on the bench in front of you.

If you weren't already so nervous about Bart, you would blush about Jack.

"At least tell me you're glad to see me."

You grin, which is less forced then you thought it would be prior to trying it. Damn, he's good. You think, realising he just swepped in here and made you comfortable in less then 50 words. "Always, 'Uncle Jack'."

"Oh," He groans, like it physically pained him to hear you tease him like that. A tiny smirk even slips through his usually emotionless - well, not emotionless. He has one standing colour, that being sly, - stone statue of a face. "'Uncle Jack'- Please, stop. I'm barely a decade older then you."

That's enough to make anything else possible, inappropriate. Unfortunately. "Hey, I said I'm glad to see you." You wink, a bit sly yourself. "Count your blessings."

His grin widens a bit, like the dangerously charming Cheshire cat-type that he is. Genes that Chuck inherited, clearly, if his track record with girls say anything at all, but that Bart obviously missed out on. "You've got a point."

"She's a remarkable young woman." Bart pipes up, making your stomach tie itself up in knots again, and you immediately revert your gaze to your lap. Remarkable young woman... you want to barf. "Who, I was actually having a conversation with before you burst in here, unannounced." He takes a slow sip of his drink, then mutters. "And uninvited."

"Well that's great." Jack straightens up, clapping his hands together and finally showing his teeth in a smile. They're really freaken white, compared to his skin, deeply tanned by the hot Australian sun. "A visit would be kinda uncomfortable without a conversation; I'll join. I can converse with the best of 'em, Bart. I assure you."

"It was private." The old man sneers, thinking that he's got the upper hand on Jack, and all you can do is hope to god that he's wrong.

Jack turns his head back to look at you, and you meet his gaze tentatively. Your eyes scream, 'Please don't leave me alone with that guy'. He promptly looks back to Bart. "Well Bart why don't we ask the lady in the room what she wants? We are gentlemen here aren't we?" Then Jack makes a face, all crumpled up and unsure, for a moment. "Err. Well actually... 'gentleman' might be a bold faced lie. We'll ask anyway. Y/N! Do you mind if I weigh in here?"

"Not at all." You say quickly, flashing a tiny, thankful smile. He gives you another wink- this time actually subtle. So Bart didn't see it. Your smile gets a little bit bigger, relaxing. He's got you.

"Great." You watch him pull out the stool beside you, that Chuck - who has still not returned from his phone call with Blair. You assume some, likely cruel vengeance must be involved. Possibly involving that Humphrey guy, - had vacated and settles down in it. He then sets his arms firmly on the bench and looks up attentively at Bart, not breaking eye contact with him. Boy these Bass's like their stare downs. "So?" He prompts, expectantly. And a little arrogantly- a Bass speciality that you truly don't mind at all. "What's on the agenda, today?"

Bart glares heatedly, back.

Throughout the awkward discussion between the three of you, which your good friend Chuck has yet to return to discover - at this point you're resigned to him having climbed out the window and scaled the building probably, - , Jack constantly, skilfully changes the subject for you whenever Bart rears to close to somewhere uncomfortable. He makes jokes that make you laugh, he nudges you with his elbow at times - but never touches you any more then that, although you honestly wouldn't mind it if he did, - and takes the attention off you a lot. At times you truly thought you saw steam come out of Bart's ears.

When finally Bart gives up and excuses himself, saying he as an early dinner with Lily, you feel exhausted and relieved. After the door swings shut behind him, you cover your face with your hands and deeply sigh.

"So, what was that about? You looked like a trapped mouse. I recognise that look, I invented that look." You pull back slightly from your hands and glance over at him, to see him thoughtful for a moment. "Well, not by making it. By... causing... it... Either way, it was not good." He shakes his head, taking a sip of his own drink - scotch, - that he made Bart pour for him; Raising his eyebrows at you for an explanation over the rim of the glass.

Jack's always been great, like this. Even when he was horrible, he was the lesser of two evils between him and Bart. Good for a laugh and quality eye candy in a pinch- and that counts for a hell of a lot when it comes to surviving Bart Bass and the Upper East Side. And he had the power and pull of an adult, but knew what the hell was going on like one of you.

So he always made you feel at ease.

You ruffle your hair back, and sigh, straightening your back finally from their hunched over position they live in when you're uncomfortable and pushing back your shoulders. "He was just, saying some weird stuff... and Chuck disappeared to talk to Blair." At that, Jack nods in total understanding. Like ah, yeah. Got ya. Finally, you shrug. "He just makes me really uncomfortable. No offence, but I hate your brother."

As you watch Jack's eyes don't even flicker; He's totally on board with what you've said. Then he finishes the rest of his scotch in one gulp. "Ahh- I hate him too."

"As do we all." Chuck's voice suddenly pops up, as he appears in the doorway like Jack had earlier. You have to practice some serious self control so as to not laugh, at Chuck so coincidentally turning up again at the perfect moment to proclaim his hatred for his father. Jack grins back at Chuck coldly, nodding. Yeah. "Anyway, Y/N, I apologise but I'll be having to abandon you. Blair's waiting for me at her, empty, apartment." He pauses for a moment for dramatic effect, in perfect Chuck Bass fashion, and you roll your eyes, grinning. Jack smirks. "But you're welcome to stick around a while and help yourself to the amenities All on my tab, of course. Good to see you again, Jack." Then he pockets his phone and heads toward the door. The second Bass of the day leaves the building.

"Bye, nephew!" Jack waives as the elevator doors close behind Chuck then swiftly turns around back to you, to which you raise your eyebrows. "So, what do we do now?"

"I dunno." Shrugging you grin and turn your stool to angle your legs towards Jack. "When Chuck says those magical words 'All on my tab'," Those words, oh; You speak them with just as much raw, breathy sexual arousal as the man himself would. As the words demand. 'All on my tab'. Good lord, sex if they were words. "I tend to take advantage."

"An easy girl to please; That's what I like to see." Your cheeks flame up at those words out of Jack's mouth as he turns to look down at the room service menu. Yes, Jack Bass has toed the line, between platonic and flirtatious since the very moment you met the man... but that seemed a little bit more then toeing the line.

And you get a far different reaction to him doing it then you do the other Bass brother.

You don't even really mind the implications of his words.

"You're staying back with me?" You ask, feeling hopeful at the idea.

"Yeah well, I cant in, uh, good conscience," He makes a bit of a show to you, of pressing his hand to his chest totally earnestly as those words 'good conscience' come out of his mouth. "leave you here unguarded in case Bart comes back, can I? Besides, the way you said 'All on my tab'- man, you could sell moonshine at an AA meeting with that voice."

"Ha," You laugh, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. "Well, thanks."

"Oh. Don't thank me. You're just using what uh, your mama gave you. I actually encourage you totally, to do that more often- "

"No!" You exclaim, sighing in exasperation; But there is still a smile on your face you cant seem to shake. "For not leaving, today. When you walked in. It would've sucked if you had, not that I would've blamed you at all."

"Hey, just call me your knight in shining armour." He doesn't look up from the menu, flicking through it. Then turns to you with one of those beach boy/politician, toothless grins of his. "Besides you were automatically, my favourite person in the apartment. I mean, anyone with... uhhh- different, appendages to what I have, instantly gets a one-way ticket access to my rare bouts of chivalry. Now come over here, pick out what you want off here."

You just gape at him and that comment, making him stifle a laugh and return to the menu himself.

Bass's.

#Jack Bass #Jack Bass x Reader #Gossip Girl Jack Bass x Reader #Jack bass x Reader Oneshot #Bart Bass #Chuck Bass #Oneshot #Gossip Girl #Gossip Girl x Reader

202 notes · View notes

dreamescapeswriting · 3 years

Text

Almost ~ JJK [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.2

GENRE: Angst, fluffy, established-relationship, jealous, happy ending

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hope this is okay, I took a different approach with it, rather than a huge fight I did a calmer one? Hope you like it!

The sun felt as though it was burning your skin even through the layers of clothes you were wearing and the vast amount of suncream you had on didn't feel as though it was doing its job. You knew that Australia was going to be hot but you had no idea it was going to be this hot,

"You okay?" Jungkook chuckled as he stepped back to walk with you, you hummed at him taking the bottle of water he was holding out for you.

"You sure?" He knew that you didn't handle the heat well but he didn't want to leave you behind while he and the boys travelled to Australia for Bon Voyage 5. This season was one of their more relaxed ones, just like season four when they were in their own place the boys had been offered their own small b&b to film the fifth season in. Whilst in Australia they could do whatever they wanted to do, including travelling around, touring the famous places and doing whatever it was that the boys wanted to do.

"Yeah, just out of breath." You giggled as you all came to a stop at the museum the boys had been travelling to. It was Namjoons day to pick what they were going to do and he had picked The Nation Gallery Of Victoria to go to which was why you'd walked most of the way. It was only a 30-minute walk from where the boys, crew and you were all staying so it wasn't a big walk. The heat however was making it a little harder on you.

"Once we're inside and they have enough shots we can walk around together sound good?" He questioned you as you all waited for the crew to go and get your tickets and make sure that the museum was clear for the boys to head inside.

"Sounds perfect to-"

"Jungkook! Make-up!" His personal make-up artist called out to him making him look away from you and over at her. That was how it always seemed to be, whenever she saw you and Jungkook getting close to one another she would give some excuse for him to leave you alone or go to her. At first, you figured it was because of the show, he needed his makeup on for the cameras but even when the cameras weren't rolling and you and Jungkook were finally having some alone time she would come up with something to get him away from you.

"I'll be back soon," He quickly kissed your forehead before going over to her. Lee Bomi was one of the most beautiful makeup artists that BigHit had to offer, she was also the most talented one too. She'd worked with a lot of the BigHit artists before being settled with BTS and becoming Jungkook's number one. Sitting down on a wall you watched the two of them interacting with one another. Deep down you knew that there was nothing going on between them since Jungkook and you were engaged but you still always had that sinking feeling inside of you. The jealously always bubbled up inside you whenever you got to see how close they were with one another. They'd known one another for so long there was no surprise that they were as close as they were with each other but it didn't stop you from getting jealous. Watching them laughing amongst one another with their inside jokes, watching how she could always get close to him physically without being pulled away. Even though you and Jungkook were engaged you were never allowed to have PDA unless you were alone, alone. BigHit had made it a rule when they realised how serious Jungkook was about you, you figured it was just to keep fans at peace.

"Cat got your tongue?" Hoseok asked as he sat down next to you on the wall and followed your gaze, smiling when he saw what you were looking at.

"You know they're just friends." He reassured you as he held out some dried fruit for you to munch on,

"I know but I still can't help it...She gets to be around him all of the time..." Hoseok sighed softly as he nudged you playfully, it wasn't as though your relationship wasn't known amongst fans. BigHit had announced it months ago but you still weren't allowed to be overly physical with him.

"She's a makeup artist, she has to be around all of the time," Hoseok told you as he got up and held out his arm for you to take. Everyone was starting to head inside for the tour of the museum and Hoseok didn't want you to wait outside and overthink every little detail about Jungkook's friendship with Bomi.

"I have these tickets for a small getaway, do you think he would want to go?" You questioned as you and Hoseok stood in front of a display case not paying attention to anything that was inside of it, Hoseok turned to you with a smile and nodded.

"He loves spending time with you and a getaway after being cramped up with the crew and the boys will probably do him some good." He chuckled at the thought of it and you smiled, feeling reassured that you and Jungkook would finally get some time alone together.

Later in the night, you were staying up late with Jungkook, sitting on the sofa with your head on his shoulder while some boring movie played on the TV. Neither of you was paying attention to it, you were too busy talking to one another and then kissing to bother looking at the screen.

"I think," You started as you laid down with your head on his thighs, moving so that your legs hung over the arm of the sofa and looked up at Jungkook.

"You think what?" He questioned, moving some of your hair from your face and smiling happily at you.

"That when we head back home, we should go on our own mini-holiday? I've seen this amazing b&b just outside of Seoul, I've got some tickets that I got from a while ago..." You'd been wanting to ask him to go with you for a while but you never knew when to ask. Now seemed like the right time since he'd been working so hard lately. The break would be perfect, just the two of you on a mini getaway,

"It'll be romantic, we can just hide out together. Doing whatever we want," He told you as he bent down to kiss your lips softly,

"I can't wait, babe. I'll talk to Sejin about it tomorrow morning," He promised you as he looked into your eyes, cupping your face in his hands.

"Talk to Sejin about what?!" Bomi's voice called out as she forced herself down onto the sofa behind Jungkook making you move out of his lap so you could all sit on the sofa together.

"Y/n and I are going to take a romantic break together, just the two of us when we get back to Korea," You smiled brightly as Jungkook told her the plans and then held onto you tightly, you snuggled your head down into his shoulder.

"Oh...What about our plans though? I thought we were going to binge-watch Demon slayer and then start working out," Bomi sounded disappointed as she said this to Jungkook, you turned to look at her and she had the puppy dog eyes out trying to convince Jungkook not to go with you.

"We can do that when I get back, I just miss spending time with Y/n-"

"You're always spending time with Y/n! What about me?!" You frowned as she raised her voice at him and then spoke about you as if you weren't in the room, you stared at her as she got up from the sofa. Acting as though she was some child whose parents had just told her off for something she shouldn't have been doing.

"She's my girlfriend if I want to spend time with her, I can?" Jungkook was confused as to where all of this was coming from with Bomi,

"You can go and spend time with Kai?" He suggested as he thought back on Bomi's boyfriend back home but she began shaking her head and crying hysterically,

"He broke up with me! That's why I was looking forward to hanging out with you so much." As soon as the tears began to roll down her face Jungkook turn to give you a sympathetic look and you knew you'd lost the romantic trip to her.

"Fine, Y/n and I can always rearrange the dates?" He asked as he stared at you but you shook your head at him not wanting to talk about it now or ever in front of her.

"Whatever." You mumbled before storming out of the living room, ignoring his calls for you to go back to him as you walked towards your room in the crew section of the B&B, locking the door behind you.

Jungkook knocked on the door over and over again throughout the night trying to get you to come out and talk to him but you weren't going to. You kept the door shut and pretended to be asleep so that he would just go away, all you wanted to do was spend some time alone with him and yet you never seemed to get that. Bomi would always come into it and ruin it somehow.

The next morning Jungkook waited outside your room for you to come out but you hadn't, he'd been sitting there since he woke up and you were nowhere to be seen.

"Y/n left, she said she was going to go to the beach alone today," Yoongi told Jungkook when he walked down the hall to see him knocking on the door over and over again.

"When?!" Jungkook was up on his feet in a flash and Hoseok came down the hall to see why the youngest member was yelling so early in the morning. It wasn't even 9 am yet so no one had expected him to be out of bed. Bomi followed Hoseok and they all stared at Jungkook,

"She was leaving at 6? I got up to make coffee and she was going out of the door. Said she needed to think things over," Yoongi explained but this only earnt a scoff from Bomi as she folded her arms over her chest and pouted out her bottom lip.

"It's a desperate cry for attention for Guky. He said no to going on a romantic get away with her," Hoseok frowned looking at Bomi and then to Jungkook who was already pulling out his phone to call you and find out when you would be coming back.

"He said no? I thought he would have loved it, I told her to go ahead and ask him." Hoseok sounded upset for you at the thought of Jungkook saying no but then he looked at Bomi who was staring at Jungkook.

"Guky, can we go and play video games?" She whined pulling on his arms as he looked at his phone, ignoring her while he tried to call your phone.

"Guky. You promised you'd make me feel better after Kai," That was when it started to sink into Hoseok that maybe Jungkook hadn't said no to you but that Bomi had convinced him otherwise.

When you came back that night Jungkook was curled up on the sofa with Bomi's head in his lap, he was asleep with his head on the back of the sofa.

"Hey, where have you been?" Hoseok questioned when he looked up from his phone, he'd been calling you all day to find out when you were coming home and what had happened with Bomi but you ignored everyone. Turning off your phone and just exploring the city on your own for a while,

"Went out. That's a new development..." You whispered as you looked at your fiancé being used as a pillow, jealously beginning to bubble again but this time Hoseok didn't stop you from feeling jealous. In his eyes, you had every right to feel upset with how the two of them acted around one another. Bomi treated Jungkook as though he was her boyfriend and not your fiancé. All-day he'd had to watch Bomi cling onto Jungkook and try to steer him away from calling you but it was as if Jungkook was blind to it and Hoseok was torn between telling you or letting it go on.

"Babe! I've missed you so much!" Jungkook mumbled as he woke up and saw you standing there staring at him but you made no attempt to go close to him.

"Looks like it." You mumbled sarcastically, turning to Hoseok with a smile and going towards your room.

"Babe! Wait!" Jungkook whisper-yelled as he slowly moved Bomi off him and chased after you. You thought you were safe in your room but he walked straight inside and stared at you,

"You've been ignoring my calls all day, I was worried about you." He said as he tried to wrap his arms around you but you stepped away from him and shook your head.

"You didn't look worried, it looked to me as though you'd been cuddling up with Bomi all day." You snapped as you began packing up your suitcase. Throughout the whole day of being on your own, you'd thought about how better it would be if you just headed home for the rest of the stay.

"No, I haven't, I've been non-stop calling you. You would know if you bothered to check your phone," Scoffing at his statement you continued to pack while Jungkook un-packed everything you were putting inside.

"What are you doing?" He questioned as he continued to watch you try and pack,

"Leaving. You're clearly having more fun with Bomi here, I'll go home." You said dryly as your head continued to throw the image of them on the sofa together but he shook his head.

"Bomi just needed comforting, Kai and her-"

"Kai and her broke up four months ago. I asked him while I was making coffee this morning," You interrupted him as you waited for the next excuse to come from him but he said nothing. Just standing there staring at you in silence,

"Can't you see why she's doing it? She has a huge crush on you, it doesn't take a genius to see it." You told him as you finally got everything into your suitcase and zipped it up, turning to leave when you saw Bomi standing there. Tears streaming down her cheeks,

"I-I had a nightmare and you weren't there," You rolled your eyes and laughed as you turned to see Jungkook falling for it all over again,

"See. Just like that, you're putty in her fucking hands." You dragged your suitcase off the bed and began to leave the room when Jungkook took hold of your hand.

"She doesn't have a crush on me, she's just upset and lonely," He tried to defend her but you weren't going to stand for it anymore, you'd reached your breaking point.

"I'm lonely too but I don't go around clingy to other people's fiancé's." This time you stared at Bomi as you said it to Jungkook, waiting for her to finally crack and tell Jungkookt he truth as to why she was always clingy onto him but she just smirked at you.

"That's insane, you're not lonely," He told you as he let go of your wrist but you just walked away from him, ignoring his yells after you as you put your suitcase into the trunk of the rental car you'd gotten.

"You can keep the tickets for the romantic getaway, you and Bomi might need them." You mumbled as you opened the driver's door but Jungkook slammed it shut,

"Enough! What is your problem?!" He called out as he stared at you waiting for some kind of explanation as to what you doing.

"I already told you. She's trying to come between us because of her crush on you and you're too blind to see it." You tried to open the door but Jungkook leant his back against it so you didn't have a chance to.

"Bomi is a friend-"

"Does she know that?" You questioned turning around to see her watching you from the front door of the b&b, arms folded across her chest as she waited for all of this to be over.

"You're being ridiculous," Jungkook grumbled as he looked at you but this time you didn't have a chance to say anything. Hoseok stepped in,

"Jungkook all day Bomi has done nothing but stop you from calling Y/n, clinging onto you as though you were the couple." Your head snapped around to Bomi who was now smirking even more while tears rolled down your face,

"No she hasn't, s-she's been upset over Kai and I wanted to comfort her like a good friend." You stared up at Jungkook as he spoke and it hit you that he really didn't see what Bomi was doing, that he was just an innocent party in all of this.

"You don't see it, do you? You don't see the way she clings onto you and pulls you away from me?" Your hand on the car door dropped as you realised he really hadn't seen what she was doing to the two of you.

"See what?" Jungkook sighed as he looked at you,

"She's manipulative, she'll push a wedge between you both until she can slot herself in until she can finally get Y/n out," You turned around when you heard a new voice come into the conversation and Kai was standing there watching everything. Bomi moved out of the way and headed into the b&b while Hoseok looked at you and smiled weakly before leaving. After seeing Bomi and Jungkook all day he went to speak to Kai about everything to see if he could speak to Jungkook for you.

"You cheated on her, you'll do anything to make her seem-"

"She cheated on me. Starting sleeping with one of the other crew members...Also engaged. That's what she does, she loves chasing after things she knows she's not supposed to...Jungkook don't throw away what you and Y/n have." Jungkook looked back down at you as he heard Kai speaking and it hit him. Everything she had been doing since before the trip to Australia. Everything hitting him as if he'd been driving and hit into a wall.

Jungkook convinced you to stay that night and he laid in bed with you, holding you close to him as you both spoke over everything to do with it. He was going to remove Bomi as he makeup artist and put forward that he was switched to someone else. It wasn't just to make you feel better but also himself, he felt awful for not seeing what she was doing until it was almost too late.

"I can't believe I almost lost you," He whispered as he noticed you were nodding off to sleep

"I-I don't want to lose you," He whispered again as he began to draw small patterns into your skin, you hummed against his chest as he spoke to you about it.

"I love you too much to let you go," He said to you again as you hummed tiredly in agreement with him. Yawning as you tried to speak to him,

"I love you too...N-Not going anywhere." You whispered tiredly before drifting off to sleep in his arms, Jungkook holding onto you tightly throughout the entire night.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @rjsmochii @fan-ati--c @bisexualmess007 @sweeneyblue1 @sw33tnight @innersooya @jin-from-the-block

308 notes · View notes

eryiss · 3 years

Text

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Summary: Laxus has returned to the guild, but is still scared of not being accepted. Freed does what he can to help, and insists that Laxus attend some of the events held in the guildhall. Over the course of a year, and four different parties, the guild starts feeling like home again. And Freed, well... Freed has something to confess.

Notes: Hi. This was a little thing I wrote becuase I haven't done enough canon-verse writing; that and I want to procrastonate from uni work. I hope you all enjoy it, and sorry for any mistakes.

Links: FFN, Ao3

Part of the Party

The Summer Solstice

Freed was, despite what some might claim, rather fond of parties. Not so much in the way a typical Fairy Tail mage might do; he didn't find pleasure in getting as drunk as his body would allow, starting a fight, and collapsing in the mountain of rubble they'd created. Rather, he went to the guild parties to nurse a glass of wine, watch the inevitable decline in both intelligence and balance of his friends, and watch from the side-lines. It was his own form of enjoyment, and yet it had somehow given him the reputation as, as one of his guildmates had so eloquently put it, a boring stick-in-the-mud bastard.

That had been Natsu, who at that moment was wobbling haphazardly towards the bar, hugging Pantherlilly as if he were his own cat, singing at the top of his lungs with neither pitch nor tone. Hardly a reputable source of judgment, Freed concluded.

Still, that was the reputation he had gained, and he wasn't helping that tonight.

Rather, he was making it worse. From the moment he had arrived he had refused any drinks, had perched himself at a table on the second floor as to overlook the party but not be a part of it, and hardly spoken to anybody; not the most convivial actions for celebrating the summer solstice. It hadn't been for lack of wanting to be involved, but rather out of necessity. This was Laxus' first guild event since he had returned, and he hadn't been entirely enthusiastic to go.

It was a problem that had Freed worried. Laxus had been accepted back with open arms, and yet he was still skittish around anyone other than the Raijinshuu. He had been forgiven, but didn't seem to believe it, and avoided everyone as much as he could. Freed knew that, had he not been forceful with his friend, Laxus would have spent the night alone.

So they'd made a deal. Laxus would attend the party, but he was allowed to leave at any moment.

Freed felt that this was maybe too big a step taken too quickly, and he'd only realised that as they approached the guildhall. Laxus was… off-kilter, and this might push him over the edge. So, he had decided that if the worse did happen, Freed would be sober and waiting to help Laxus with it. But it didn't look like he needed it.

"You can't just watch him all night, you know," Mirajane commented as she walked up the stairs, holding a glass of chocolate milkshake; if he couldn't have alcohol, Freed would indulge in other ways. "You might enjoy yourself more. He's doing okay."

"I know," Freed agreed, taking the drink and placing the used glass from earlier on Mirajane's tray. "But I think, the longer he's down there alone, the better. He needs to be fully submerged without his crutch."

"His crutch being you, Ever and Bicks?" Mirajane asked, and Freed nodded. "That's why they're avoiding him, then."

"Indeed, although I suspect Ever would gravitate towards your brother no matter what," Freed chuckled a little, and Mirajane preened a little at the reminder. "Though I must admit, Bickslow, Loke and Natsu being so close does concern me. They're chaotic enough as is, I'd rather not deal with them all together."

"I think they're playing tic-tac-toe," Mirajane frowned a little. "I think it's only a matter of time before Loke suggests making it strip tic-tac-toe, but it's innocent enough right now."

"Perhaps bring me a bucket of water, I could probably pour it over them all from here should they get too involved in their game," Freed mused aloud, and Mirajane laughed a little at the thought.

They both remained in silence for a while, Freed watching as Laxus had a somewhat awkward looking conversation with Reedus, who seemed to be requesting Laxus model for a painting sometimes in the future. Freed smiled a little, hearing Laxus say that he'd consider it; a step in the right direction already. Before his excommunication, Laxus wouldn't have given a second before denying the request, it was nice for him to be making the effort.

Too engrossed in his pride for his friend, Freed missed the slightly sad look on Mirajane's face as she looked down at him. Because of this, when she spoke again, Freed found himself on the back foot and ill-prepared.

"Have you told him yet?" She asked, voice soft but words making Freed freeze. She continued. "It's just that you said that you would, and I really do think he'd-"

"It's not the time," Freed spoke softly, but with firmness.

"When will the time be, Freed?"

"He's," Freed began, but stopped and sighed. "His life is a mess right now. He has nowhere to live other than my sofa, feels like the place he's called home for most of his life doesn't want him there, and doesn't know what to do. It would be cruel to add something else onto that."

"I understand that, but it might be nice for him," Mirajane shrugged. "He likes you back, he always has. He's just not been ready for you until now."

"Well, if that's the case, then we can both wait until things are a little less precarious," Freed stated, putting an end to the conversation.

Mirajane didn't seem to want to push, so Freed looked over the banister to the lower floor to see that Laxus' conversation with Reedus had ended. He looked a little lost for a moment, and Freed let a smile flicker onto his face before it immediately died. Laxus couldn't see it yet, but Lucy was approaching him. She, more than anyone else in the guild, was the person Laxus was most scared of speaking with. He had been avoiding her like the plague, and by the expression of determination on her face, she had noticed.

Freed wanted to intercept, or at least break his own rule and be there beside Laxus. Many times, Laxus had expressed regret for how he had treated his guildmates, and more than anyone else he believed Lucy could not forgive him. Many of the others had known Laxus before his shift in character, but Lucy had only seen him at his worth. He couldn't believe that she would give him any benefit of the doubt.

He clearly didn't know her. Freed had thought that way, until he'd been forced to speak with her about fixing his issue with his hair – something that should have been humiliating, but had instead been easy, and without complication. The woman was kind, nothing less.

"He'll be fine," Mirajane assured Freed. "She just wants to get to know him, and he's been okay with everyone else. It'll be fine."

"I know," Freed said, not believing his own words.

They watched from afar as Lucy finally came face to face with Laxus. He was clearly tense, face unmoving and words stilted. Lucy seemed unaffected, chatting away as she so often didn't with enthusiasm and with cheerfulness. Freed had often wondered how so much optimism could be contained in a single person, but he was glad for it now. This was good, it was going fine.

Until it wasn't.

Freed couldn't hear what had been said, but without warning, Laxus erupted into lightning. He was consumed by it within a moment, and bolts of flickering magic shot out of the door, breaking it open and lighting up the city as it darted through the streets. Laxus was gone, and Lucy was left with her mouth agape, silent in her shock. Freed hissed, placing his milkshake on the table and storming towards the staircase. Teleportation runes had consumed him before he had reached the top step, and he found himself in his sitting room, with Laxus on the sofa, hunched over, crying weakly and trying to stop.

With a small breath, Freed stepped forward and placed a hand on Laxus' shoulder. Laxus tensed, but leaned into it.

"I am so proud of you," Freed whispered. "You were spectacular, and did so well."

Laxus didn't respond. That was how the rest of the night went, until Laxus' tears subsided, and he slept curled up, head resting on Freed's lap. All in all, despite how it had ended, Freed knew that this had been good for Laxus, and was something of a breakthrough for him. As the man gently snored, and Freed ran his hands through his hair, Freed repeated himself in a quiet whisper.

"I am so damn proud of you, Laxus."

---

Freed's Birthday

The singing was a little too much, Freed found.

Discordant, with its volume inversely proportionate to its talent, it sounded somewhat like a bag of cats trying to fight with a set of bagpipes in the middle of a tornado. Well, perhaps that was slightly hyperbolic and fanciful, but he'd had his fair share of champagne throughout the day and as such was allowed to enjoy his creative side.

He'd awoken to his team making him breakfast – pancakes, pain au chocolates, and cinnamon rolls – before he had been taken to the guild. As normal, it was a loud and rowdy affair. The peculiar tradition of his yearly fight with Natsu took place, a grand meal had been prepared, and he'd been sung to. Very very loudly.

Still, it was a nice day. A tradition.

It was good to have Laxus there, too. The blonde had been present for the breakfast, and Freed had expected that would be it for his inclusion of the day. A month had passed since the summer solstice party, and Laxus' time spent in the guildhall was still minimal. Other steps had been made – he'd modelled for Reedus, set up a weekly training session with Gajeel, and went on an incredibly unexpected mission with Happy – but he still struggled with the guild as a whole. He confessed that their team spirit was too much, and it felt like he was intruding.

Freed didn't want to push him. The first party had kicked him into action, and now Laxus was getting to know his guildmembers both old and new, and if doing so one-by-one was what it took then so be it.

But, Laxus had come. He'd eaten, drunk, and Freed had caught sight of him and Gajeel laughing together while the rest of the guild sang at him. It was nice to see, and it had made the signing more bearable. Slightly more bearable, anyway.

Then, the presents came.

As always, they were an onslaught of gifts, some personalised, others more general. Levy had gotten him a first edition copy of 'The Mechanics of Magic', Erza a grindstone to polish his sword on, Reedus a painting containing all of his team and Laxus in the heat of battle, and Lucy a set of quills and ink. He thanked them all graciously, touched by the effort that had been spent on them. His guildmates really were too kind.

The thought made him look up, glancing towards where Laxus had been. Freed hoped that, upon seeing the forgiveness and open kindness he was receiving, Laxus might feel more involved himself. When he looked up, he saw that Laxus had left the guildhall.

Dammit.

He sat through the rest of the gifts, trying to remain focused but unable to feel bad. Eventually they ended, and the party moved onto the next stage: Gajeel and his guitar. If Laxus' departure wasn't excuse enough for Freed to leave the guildhall and go into the courtyard, then the music certainly was.

Once outside, it didn't take him long to find where Laxus had ended up. Freed had hoped that his friend hadn't left altogether, and was gratified when he saw him sitting on the edge of the pool, his boots bedside him and his trousers rolled up. Freed smiled as he walked forward, kicking off his own shoes and folding his own trousers to his knees. He sat beside Laxus, letting his calves rest limply in the cold water in the pool. Laxus shifted a little, clearly in his own head and not having noticed Freed's approach.

"Hey," He murmured quietly. "Sorry I didn't… I couldn't… just got a bit much, y'know."

"I understand," Freed said immediately. "I'm impressed that you managed to-"

"You don't need to do that. I appreciate it, but I don't need you telling me that I'm making steps," Laxus argued, smiling a little. He bumped his shoulder into Freed's, as if to make sure Freed knew he'd taken no offence.

"Very well," Freed nodded. "I'm glad you're here though, it wouldn't have felt right without you."

"I can't let my right-hand man celebrate his birthday without me," Laxus grinned, and Freed chuckled quietly, lifting his foot and watching the ripples that the action caused. "Speaking of which, I should give you this," Laxus leant away from Freed for a moment, reached for something, and handed Freed a hastily wrapped box. He didn't meet Freed's eye when he handed it to him. "I was gonna give it to you in the morning, but wanted to force myself to come here so held off. So, erm, happy birthday."

"Thank you, Laxus," Freed smiled, taking the box with a smile.

"You don't know what it is yet," Laxus grinned a little. "Bicks didn't get you a speedo this year, maybe I wanted to keep up the tradition."

"If you did, then there would be a sense of irony because you'd be the one ended up in the pool," Freed chuckled. "And he did, actually. Somehow, and I can only blame Mirajane for this, he had it baked into my slice of the cake," Laxus barked out a laugh. "It was lime green. In a few years' time I'll have a whole rainbow of them."

"Wonder what he'll do when he runs outta colours," Laxus grinned, before nudging Freed again. "Open it."

Freed did as instructed, and halted a little when he realised what it was. It was an Armillary Sphere. It seemed to be made from solid gold, shining under the lamps strewn across the courtyard. He gently ran his hands over the incremental engravings, adjusting the device slowly with a look of wonderment on his face.

"It's beautiful," He whispered. "How did you…"

"I don't know if you remember, but we did a mission together a couple years back and finished it early. We got pretty pissed after, since neither of us had had a break for a while," Laxus was a little red in the face. "We were lying in a clearing somewhere, looking at the stars. And you suddenly started naming them all, telling me all the stories associated with the consolations. You kept going, you could even figure out our coordinates based on what we could see. You just kept talking about stars, and astronomy and I never forgot it. You mentioned that you used to have one of these in yer old house, and I saw it in an antique store before I came back to the guild and thought you might have liked it."

"It's incredible," Freed was a little breath taken. The fact Laxus had brought it before returning to the guild was just… "Thank you, Laxus. It's… perhaps one of the nicest things someone has done for me."

"Aw don't say that," Laxus laughed a little, but there was a quaver in his words. "Not when I've got the heights of the speedo collection to contend with. And what did Gray get ya? A monocle? Who the hell put him up to that?"

"In fairness, I did gift him a scarf for his last birthday. Which, with him is the equivalent of throwing a pebble into an active volcano with how long it'll stay on his body," Freed chuckled. "I did tell him that, so I suspect the monocle is his act of revenge."

Laxus made a little laugh, leaning back on his hands and watching the ripples across the water. Freed did the same, shifting slightly and allowing his side to press gently against Laxus'. Laxus didn't move, and Freed had a soft smile across his features as he allowed a yawn to split his lips. A party was nice and all, but this was better.

---

Halloween

"Fuck," Laxus gaped as he looked at Freed. "You take this seriously, huh?"

Freed chuckled a little at Laxus' reaction. As demanded by Bickslow, Freed had kept his costume a secret from everyone, including Laxus. That had been a difficult feat, given that Freed had removed his desk and books from his office, turned it back into a bedroom and they had become official roommates. The costume had been tucked away in the back of his closet for a month, and this was the first time anyone other than Freed himself had seen it.

As always, the Raijinshuu went in a themed costume. This year, fighters throughout history. Evergreen had insisted on being a Viking, Bickslow had chosen an old Rune Amry uniform, and Freed had decided on a gladiator.

The costume was hardly the most accurate, historically speaking, but Freed liked it. His torso was covered by a leather chest plate, complete with straps to hold it in place, a single metal shoulder guard, and a red cape that hung to his lower back. His modesty was protected by a tunic which ended above his knees. He had also adorned sandals that wrapped around his legs, and he'd forgone the helmet as it seemed unnecessary in the end. The look was completed with his sword that was attached to his hip, as normal.

"I forgot, you haven't seen any of our costumes, have you," Freed chuckled. "What do you think."

"It's…" Laxus seemed to pause for a moment. "Good. Really good- creative, I mean. You put a lot of effort into it."

"Thank you for noticing," Freed smiled. "Are you ready to go?"

"Give me a couple minutes to change," Laxus dismissed, and Freed frowned as Laxus retreated into his bedroom.

Laxus had been adamant that he wouldn't wear any costumes at all, because he wasn't into that kind of thing. It was what Freed had expected, and honestly he was happy that Laxus was willing to come at all. Laxus had been at the guild more often lately, and Freed felt that maybe his birthday party had helped with that. Perhaps it was nice to know that Laxus could get some time alone, gather his thoughts, but still be a part of the guild's events.

Freed sat on the sofa for a moment, having to adjust his position when he realised that his tunic had a tendency to ride up and show… everything. Better to know now than to make the mistake in the guild where his friends would be delighted to mock him for it.

Maybe he should allow for another anachronism and wear some boxers…

The door to Laxus' room opened, and Freed looked towards him immediately. A spluttering of laughter slipped out before Freed could stop it, and Laxus raised an eyebrow at him, amusement obvious in his face. He stepped forward, spread his arms to better reveal himself, and grinned.

"Just as good as yours, right?" He joked.

It wasn't as good as Freed's. Laxus' costume consisted of a fairly cheap red suit, a white shirt with ruffles of all things, and a pair of red devil horns. It was put together in a rush, had no detail given to it, and was perhaps to most delightful thing Freed had ever seen. One year ago, when Freed had been celebrating the holiday without Laxus, he wondered if the blonde might have scoffed at the Raijinshuu's new found fondness for Halloween. Now, Laxus had a smile that was almost goofy on his face, wearing a costume that he'd made for himself. Freed couldn't ask for more.

"It's certainly a costume," Freed smirked, and Laxus laughed.

"You know, I'm dressed as the devil," Laxus all but sauntered forward, a good look on the man. "And if you're a demon, that kind of makes me your king, right? And, as your king, surely you should show me some respect and kneel for me."

Rather than allow that comment to affect him – boxers really would have been a good idea – he immediately spoke again. "Say that to Mirajane and I'll pay your tab for a month."

"Nah, I like my organs on the inside," Laxus grinned, walking towards the front door.

"You know that the moment Bickslow and Ever seen that you're willing to wear a costume of any kind, they're going to drag you into our tradition whether you like it or not," Freed taunted as he closed the door and locked it behind him. "I'm afraid to say, Laxus, that this," He gestures to himself. "Is your future."

Laxus paused for a moment, then smiled a private smile.

"I can think of a lot of things worse than that, Freed."

---

New Year's Eve

Laxus Dreyar and Lucy Heartfilia were having a drinking contest.

It was perhaps the only thing that Freed had seen that might convince him that miracles were real. But there they were, two pints of beer in front of them both, drinking as if their lives depended on it. Even more ridiculous, Laxus had been the one instigate it. He'd brought the tray of drinks over, looked Lucy dead in the eye and claimed that, if she drank hers before he did his, then he'd pay for every drink she got for all of January.

Freed watched from above, smiling a little as he leant on the banister. As normal, he had spent the party with a glass of red, watching as his guildmates got drunker and drunker, making asses out of themselves for his amusement. It had been perfect, and he was delighted that Laxus seemed to be getting involved.

"Shit," Laxus cussed loudly when he placed his glass down. "Where the hell did you learn to drink like that?"

Lucy said something in return, but it was too quiet for Freed to hear. She had clearly won their wager, and Laxus seemed to be in good spirits despite the financial loss. They spoke for a little while longer before breaking apart, Lucy walking towards her team, Laxus looking around before spotting where Freed had decided to stay.

He took the stairs to the second floor two by two, grinning at Freed widely when he was face to face with him. He wasn't drunk – Freed had seen Laxus drunk before many times – but he was in high spirits. It was nice to see.

"Hey," Laxus greeted. "You still sticking up here, huh?"

"Best place to be," Freed shrugged, leaning on the banister when Laxus was beside him. "You can see everyone stumbling and falling, and there's no chance of one of them vomiting on you."

"You really know how to party, huh?" Laxus teased, and Freed chuckled.

For a moment, they watched over the guild. Their arms lightly grazed one another, and Freed found himself smiling a little. These moments hadn't happened before. Laxus hadn't ever allowed himself to slow down, to enjoy himself. Ever since Laxus had come back, he'd been more… contemplative. He allowed himself moments of calm and time to think, and Freed enjoyed sharing those times with him. Over the last year, he'd spent many hours in silent company with Laxus by his side, and those moments had become very dear to Freed.

"Was talking to Mira," Laxus spoke up again. "Said you made a promise to her, that you'd tell me something before the year ended."

"Did she?" Freed mumbled slightly. He would be having words with the interfering woman.

"She did," Laxus agreed, looking towards Freed with a soft expression. Freed kept his gaze on the guildhall below. "But, between the two of us, I don't think you should."

Freed froze. "You don't."

"Nah, I don't," Laxus agreed. "Because everything you wanna say to me I already know. Have for a while, but I've been too shit scared to deal with it. Not anymore, though."

"Is that so?" Freed asked, not conveying tone. Where was Laxus going with this?

"Yeah. Pushing away my feelings nearly fucking killed me, and it ain't gonna happen again. And the thing is, everything you were gonna say to me, I know I wanna say to you. But I don't think I've gotten to that point yet, so instead I'm gonna ask something of ya."

"Ask what of me?"

"I'm gonna ask you make a promise to me," Laxus stated. "I'm gonna ask that you promise that," he looked to the countdown clock above the door, "in forty nine seconds, you kiss me. I'm gonna ask that you promise to go to dinner with me tomorrow night as my date. I'm gonna ask you promise me you'll let me show you how much I fucking care about you, and how much I know I'm gonna love you the second I can," His voice wavered slightly. "Because I really-"

Freed cut him off, leaning up and cupping Laxus' cheek with his right hand. He leant forward, pressed their lips together and kissed Laxus for the very first time. Bells rang and fireworks exploded around them, but neither man cared. Freed melted into the kiss, and Laxus wrapped an arm around his waist to pull him closer.

"I promise," Freed whispered, before starting another incredible, explosive kiss.

#Fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #One Shot #Word Count: 4.2k

33 notes · View notes

jaepies · 3 years

Text

𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙤𝙢 - attack on titan

*contains spoilers of s4

reader!imagine

word count : 1,456

┍━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┑

you descended towards the mayhem of marley. flames were roaring, having no mercy on anyone as they licked anything they were able to get their hands on. if this was something of a movie, you would have stood there astonished at the scene playing out in front of you. truly it was a place where war had rampaged. eren’s titan stood in the middle of it like he was the puppeteer and the minuscule humans below him were his pawns, only able to move at his tyrant will.

no, he wasn't a tyrant.

he was eren, right?

eren wouldn’t want to inflict such pain onto others like this. the titan who savagely had just eaten willy tybur minutes before was merely a ghost of the boy who you had grown up with. this monster lacked the passion and empathy that used to reside inside humanity’s hope.

buildings were crashing down as you desperately manoeuvred yourself around the unfamiliar surroundings. even the air which you breathed in felt so different from across the ocean. it had been 4 years since the discovery of a world outside the island yet just being in marley gave you the same feeling of disbelief that you had experienced all those years ago.

except you couldn’t help but be entangled by the ropes of guilt.

all this destruction, all this anguish

each scream which rang out in the night sky,

was all caused by you and your comrades. with each thunder spear that you unleashed came with a haunting flashback to when bertholdt the colossal titan and the armoured titan reminded your people of the fear and destruction that laid beyond the walls.

chills crawled up your spine just thinking about it. the havoc that ensued that day was the exact same as the disarray underneath your feet. dead bodies crushed by the weight of fallen debris, you shut your eyes visualising the despair that will befall the corpses’ families. never able to get closure nor will they ever get the chance to say goodbye.

children were under those collapsed walls. their lives cinched from them before they could really begin. you felt as though you were an outsider looking into something you were not a part of. there was a sensation of detachment from reality as the ongoing battle scene became blurry around you. the realisation that you were the trigger for all of this was an agonizing punch to the stomach.

a sudden hand on your back forced you back into consciousness. it was connie - his face wearing a pronounced look of worry however the steel touch of his fingers held a separate message of its own.

‘follow the plan and make it out alive,’

solemnly, you trailed after the bald man onto one of the last standing roofs in the district, leaving all sins committed behind. still, there was a bitterness that laced the atmosphere; stifling your comrades' ability to talk

or maybe no one had the correct words to say.

there was so much that could be done, you had the advantage of power here. you were superior ones for once. these people ‘started it’ first as childish as that sounds. so why did you all feel so awful? standing on the rooftop gave you such height yet it felt as though you were falling into a pit of disgust and shame.

somehow, it was better when humanity’s only enemy at the time was the titans. there was an element of simplicity in knowing who the ‘bad guys and good guys’ were. the saying of ‘curiosity killed the cat’ seemed fitting and whilst you all were not dead yet, you couldn’t help but think everyone had gone too far. the greed of information led to the erasure of the line of distinction.

out of nowhere, more characters joined the narrative, more lives were put on the line which meant there was more to lose. the fiery passion which once encapsulated the faces of your friends was blown out by the coldness of knowledge. historia became another cog in this greater machine with no regards to her wishes, no one even stopped to entertain armin’s idea of communication.

this wasn’t the scout’s plan in the first place. if only time ran more slowly rather than propelling forward, lurching at the next tragedy about to occur. it was frustrating how no one could formulate an alternative to whatever you were doing, there had to be another, more constructive way to solve this issue. you were taught growing up that violence was and will never be the issue.

only a fool would draw a sword in the face of danger and a person with at least a morsel of integrity will bare all their vulnerability and use that as their weapon of choice.

the discomfort of the blades caught up to you. your hands drenched in a clammy sensation as weariness crept its way into your head. these weapons were your lifeline - a medium to plough your way through to the temporary camp of safety. each arduous day in the training corps was spent soaring through forests with the odm gear - you should be used to the feeling by now.

another building came crumbling down as eren boundlessly shattered the body of the town. confined by nothing and no one. was this was the freedom that he was always seeking? or was he just a lost boy hopelessly grasping at a mirage?

you couldn’t help but convince yourself that there had to be a conclusion for all this. every story has an ending whether it be a dismal one where the main character dies or a path where the protagonist encounters a happier alternative. a finale is a finale all the same. the flow of pages eventually come to an end as you move onto the next enticing book.

the ever-evolving idea of freedom made it ever so difficult to anticipate the finish line. just when everyone thinks they can see it on the horizon, more hurdles are placed in front of them, forcing all the runners to continue despite having been pushed past exhaustion a few laps ago.

you and your friends share the same desire of wanting to see how this all ends. the wish for all of this to be over someday is what keep you all going. constantly being fed that if you do your part in the narrative then all the pieces will fall into place. this is what drives you to seize the nearest machine of war and put two men into a long-lasting sleep.

guilt came trickling back - both of its arms threatening to envelope itself around your delicate neck, poised and ready to pull you down a pit that kept spiralling. but you kept meticulously moving forward.

all the clocks had been destroyed in the chaos nonetheless the incessant ticking taxed away in your mind. each tick hurried you further away from your morals. each tick painted your hands a deeper shade of crimson. each tick made more fall victim to the squabbles of humanity.

an explosion was released in the distance and the disruption of the ocean could be felt under your numb feet. the ships upturned against their will before even being given a chance to breathe. the sheer force of armin overwhelming liberio more than it already had been.

he strolled through the port so carelessly as if he was walking through the meadow during the springtime. sardonically, his steps drowned out the yelps of agony coming from the sailors swimming for the last time. you were grateful. your mind had reached the limits of its allotted space that held screams which would keep you tossing and turning at night.

the bristly feeling of a ladder came tumbling down onto you. peering into the ink of the sky, the recent discovery of the aeroplane came gliding in. the bite of its draft nipped at your skin as you began to ascend. the material of the rope rubbed your hands raw from gripping tightly.

fighting against the unwavering twisting and turning, the sight of the entrance gifts your body with a slight feeling of relief. you had survived another round of trying to live.

the embers of fire continued to rage on, proceeding to devour the remains of what you had left. you mused at how picturesque the landscape looked. it had to be a crime that such an abomination could be so alluring. the distance concealed any evidence of the bodies so all that could be seen was the fallen architecture. it reminded everyone of what they had accomplished as you flew away from marley and one step closer to freedom.

there had to be another way.

┕━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┙

14 notes · View notes

not-safeforsanders · 4 years

Text

between the crowds

Warnings: big age gaps, having a kink for older men(?), daddy issues, dub-con, references to past sexual trauma. apart from the last one none of these are explicitly mentioned to be a bad thing so be warned; dead dove, do not eat.

Notes: I swear these warnings are making this a lot sadder than it actually is. OP is projecting onto Remus lets be honest, also i finished writing this at 11pm and i haven’t slept in six days so go easy on me lads. Cannot believe this is the fic i come back w after weeks.

Ship: Intrulogical

Plot: Remus has a very specific type of man that he’s interested in, usually over the age of twenty-eight and looking good in a suit.

Word Count: 3219

There are very few reasons a man like Remus rocks up to places like this in leather pants and a belt made of chains, eyes lined, he is searching for a very specific person; or at least someone falling under one of six different criteria. The brunet orders a drink at the bar, his dark eyes flickering over the crowds of people drinking and dancing and doing everything short of fucking on a table.

He sips his drink, a cocktail of at least three different kinds of alcohol and what tastes like raspberries. For a moment he doesn’t see anyone of interest and then his eyes land on someone practically burying himself into the corner of the room, his free hand in his pocket and the other around a glass of whiskey. The man is tall, lean with a head full of ebony curls that look to have been tamed somewhat, but it’s late in the evening and the gel has started to lose its hold. In the low light, blue blazer accentuating his shoulders and curves, he looks at a guess perhaps in his early thirties.

Remus swallows more of his drink, slides away from the bar and up to the other man like a predator stalking his prey. The stranger catches his eyes and leans up a little from the wall, but he doesn’t move away or look anything other than impassive at the approaching figure. “Feel like dancing?” Remus asks, but it’s not the question he’s asking, not with that tone of voice or wearing an expression that is most certainly inviting more.

“Not much of a dancer,” the other man replies, his voice deep and firm as his gaze flickers across Remus’ face, “how old are you?”

“20.” it’s the truth, he is twenty years old, but the stranger is still scrutinising him through narrowed eyes. Remus rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet out of his jacket, showing him his ID “See? I even go to college and everything.” The dark-haired man laughs, his smile is small as he shakes his head a little.

“You’re still too young for me, kid.” Remus pouts in response, folding his arms across his chest as he steps forward, tilting his head to the side as he encroaches on the other’s personal space. “Isn’t there someone your own age you can...play house with, so to speak?” The college student laughs knowing he should be offended, but it’s somewhat a hard feat to upset him truly.

“Boys my age aren’t much fun.” he shrugs “My name is Remus, and I’m legal, isn’t that all that really matters?” He gets a shaken head in response, and sighs, stepping back. “Would it make you feel any better to know I do this all the time?” Another laugh, amused as the other shakes his head again.

“Actually that makes me feel somehow worse.” He gestures in a ‘go away’ motion “Go find someone else.”

And Remus does, he turns around with a dramatic sigh and walks away with the sway of his hips, looking for some other soul to make use of that night.

It’s very rare someone says no to Remus, someone like him might as well be carrying a sign that says ‘daddy issues’ and not just because of his penchant for studs and leather and very apparent dependency issues. People like him are generally a catch for a one night stand, especially in clubs like these.

So he keeps his eye out for the stranger, approaches him on some occasions, and eventually being told ‘no’ is so much a part of his routine that he actually waits by the bar until he sees the dark-haired individual just to walk up and wait for the inevitable “Find someone else.” He thinks he might be annoying the stranger, but he doesn’t really care about that either.

True to how most of these stories go, time passes and he finally squeezes a name out of the other man, after watching him down so much whiskey in one night it’s a wonder his liver is still working. “Logan.” He finally mutters out “Now will you leave me alone?”

“You look like you need a break.” Remus replies, teasingly, soothingly “Let me help you get out of your own head.” He leans so far into the other’s space that Logan freezes a little, going to step back. Then there are hands on his cheeks and he’s being pulled into a forceful, bruising kiss. Remus kisses him like he’s starving for the other, his hands gripping but he’s not all that strong, so Logan grips his wrists and pushes him back a little, shaking his head firmly.

“No.” He lets go of Remus and walks away, he’s stumbling a little as he makes his way out of the door, the cold air sobering the elder man a little as he takes a deep breath, but as predicted the brunet has followed him out into the air. “Why do you insist on following me like a lost animal?”

“No-one ever says no to me.” The younger shrugs, looking up at Logan with a grin that is reminiscent of the Cheshire cat, wide and wolfish and eager. “Come on, one night, I promise I’ll change your life.” Logan shakes his head again, for the millionth time he’s said no, but even he’s not so sure he means that anymore. In the outside world the street lamps’ light fall on Remus’ body, his legs wrapped in leather, a choker around his neck, chains clasped to a belt that fastens around his thin waist. Distantly, Logan wants to ask him out of genuine worry if he eats at all, his bones covered only by thin skin and the tiniest amounts of muscle; that alone distracts him from any lust that he has. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-one.” The elder replies truthfully.

“My parents have a bigger age gap than that,” Remus snorts.

“It’s not the same, you’re barely an adult, and I know my comfort zone enough to know the answer is still no.” The smaller folds his arms over his chest, looking up at Logan with wide eyes and a pout and so much want. It would be wrong to accept his proposition, he does not want to accept his proposition.

Remus does not take his no as an answer, his hands winding through the blue suit jacket and pulling him back down into a kiss. A hard and wanting kiss, Logan does not kiss back, he freezes in place and goes to step back once more but Remus pulls him closer; he is not strong and Logan knows he could step back, he could walk away and the other man would have no way to prevent him from doing so. But Remus’ body presses against his in the cold air and his lips part without even thinking, and Logan kisses him back.

The cool air around him doesn’t awaken him from the feeling that rushes through him, his hands coming up to cup Remus’ jaw, lips parting and tilting his head into the kiss; he shivers when Remus’ tongue brushes his own and guiltily feels a warmth that runs to his head and pounding chest. Then Logan steps back with flushed cheeks and breathing a little heavily as he stares down at the smug expression on the younger man’s face “now, tell me no one more time.”

“No,” Logan says, shakily and a little timidly, right before Remus is grabbing his hand and yanking him out into the street. He wants to pull back, he should pull back, he does not pull back. He just follows if that is really the right word for the way he is being dragged forwards by the hand.

By the time he’s stood at the bottom of the stairs that lead to Remus’ apartment, he’s just about realised exactly what emotions he’s feeling. The younger man grins down at him, there’s an excitement in his expression that only people who have been damaged enough to find this fun, gives. Logan does not leave, he really does think he should leave, but then they’re stood outside of Remus’ room, the door opening and the other’s hands are on his body. He knows that despite every ounce of moral argument, Remus wants this, and at some point Logan might’ve understood that feeling too.

He finds himself backed against the closed door, lips against his neck, then teeth; the elder shivers underneath the weight of touch, his mind counting all the points of contact between their bodies. Remus’ hands move underneath his jacket and his head falls back against the woodwork, losing himself in the movements of the younger man’s body, before he’s being dragged towards the bed. Logan kicks off his shoes somewhere between point a and point b, before he’s lying on his back with a lapful of Remus.

The younger kisses him desperately, searching and wanting like nothing the elder man had ever seen in his life. His hands never resting as they push Logan’s jacket off his shoulders, he cups Remus’ jaw in an attempt to just still his ferocity for a second, leaning hard into the kiss the moment he’s dragging the other into it. Remus calms a little, his curious hands unbuttoning the other man’s shirt, but his movements become less erratic. He pulls back from the kiss and Logan’s fingertips trail down his jaw before resting on Remus’ thighs, looking up at him.

“Quit staring,” Remus mutters, a smile quirking at his lips “I can’t focus with you looking at me like that.” Logan goes to reply but he’s silenced by the other shuffling back, his hand wandering between his legs, squeezing the words gently out of Logan. “That’s better.”

Logan watches him shuffle backwards, Remus’ mouth pressed to the hardness forming in his pants. His cock twitches a little, taking note of the hands undoing his zipper. The elder man leans up on his elbows to watch Remus pull down his pants and boxers out of the way and off his long legs, before he settles between them on his stomach and takes him down his throat. Logan makes a noise that is quiet and lustful but mostly relieved, a curse running short of his lips as he watches Remus’ lips stretch around him, feeling him hardening in his mouth. The younger man would grin if he could, watching all the times Logan had said ‘no’ dissipate in the air around him. Now he fully intends to make him say yes, and more than once.

He moves his head at a teasing pace at first, simply to watch as the other sinks into the sensation of having his cock sucked so lethargically; in a way that is almost therapeutic. He takes his time to have the elder man squirm underneath him until finally, he asks Remus to go faster. Remus has dicked around with enough older men to know somewhere behind that passive, innocent facade is a demanding man who wants to be in control, and true to his tendency to play with fire he intends to make sure Logan knows that side of him exists.

He picks up the pace just enough for it to be noticeable but in a way that says he is really trying to piss Logan off; but the elder knows a game when he sees it and refuses to get upset with the younger. Some half of him is unnerved by the situation and doesn’t intend to make himself feel any worse about it. “Faster, please.” Always please and thank you. It’s insufferable, Remus narrates in his own mind.

By the time Logan is anywhere near his release, so much time has passed that the elder is getting frustrated but enjoying it, the sort of way anyone enjoys edging, which is definitely where Remus is heading. He pulls back to wipe his mouth the moment he can hear Logan’s breath hitching, the grin on his face said everything. And Logan grins back, lazily and with a shake of his head. The brunet is sort of reminded of the disappointed looks of the older men in his life but decides it’s possibly not a good time to think about that either.

Remus eventually stops playing games and uses his mouth the way he wants too really, essentially using Logan’s dick as a means to get his throat fucked and not much less. Logan loses it so quickly when that time comes, however, he finds himself almost reluctant to cum, as though it would be a waste of the hour to let go so soon. At least the younger did not ruin his orgasm, there’s one saving grace.

When he’s finished, voice strained and eyelids heavy he notices the way his heart is pounding in his chest like it’s almost shaking. A blowjob so good his heart might actually give out. Remus wipes off his lips on the back of his hand, kneeling up and sitting back on his heels as he looks down at the elder man.

Logan has no lines on his face, no laughter lines or frown lines, he has the slightly ageing skin of a thirty-one-year-old, but he looks still so much younger when he’s lying in Remus’ bed trying to catch his breath, skin flushed, pupils wide and a tired smile on his lips. It makes Remus wonder how much this man has actually smiled in his life, or felt much of anything at all.

He hates that he can relate to that in his own twisted way. But he doesn’t have much time to think about it because Logan’s hands are pulling him down and laying him back with every intent to return the favour.

But the elder is tired and doesn’t want to play games, and neither does Remus really, so when Logan takes him down his throat with no reserve the younger takes the liberty and fucks his mouth like he’s running out of life. He cums hard down Logan’s throat less than ten minutes than when he’d started, his hands roughly fisting the dark curls on the man’s head as he bucks into the heat around him. He makes it very clear he cares very little about how the elder feels about this, but Logan had a feeling that it would be like this and it’s not exactly his first rodeo.

Afterwards, Logan stares at the ceiling for a while whilst Remus cracks open his window and lights a cigarette wearing Logan’s shirt, staring out at the city without a bother for the fact he’s mostly naked and the lights are on so anyone could look in. “You’re thinking too loud.” The younger mutters through a throatful of smoke. “Loosen up man you can’t beat yourself up about it forever.”

“I am not beating myself up.” The elder sits up and pulls on his underwear before hopping up on the windowsill to snatch a cigarette off of the other man “I am simply thinking.”

“About…?” Remus gestures loosely with the hand holding the cigarette, ashes tumbles down against the skin of his thigh but he doesn’t really notice.

“Why,” Logan shrugs and the click of a lighter fills the silence that ensues the word, he takes a deep inhale and exhale “forgive me if it’s too personal, but I do have to wonder why a twenty-year-old has a penchant for men in their thirties and if what I’ve seen is anything to go off, older.”

“You’re right, that is too personal,” Remus replies bluntly, leaning his head against the window, inhale, exhale, his wrist falls against his propped up knee and he watches the smoke pour from his own lips in his reflection. “But it’s because I got very badly hurt and this is what it did to me, now nothing can satiate me...not just sexually...but my entire life, than men who are older, who are the same age that he was, and I assume once I am finally at that age it will be okay.” Logan blows smoke out of the window and does not speak as the words rest on him.

“You are aware that you are quite possibly re-traumatising yourself?” Remus shrugs.

“I don’t really care.” And it’s true, he doesn’t care, he isn’t uncomfortable or upset that this is the product of his pain; he doesn’t regret the men he’s slept with and he doesn’t hate himself for doing it again and again. No matter what words people have had to describe him; from jailbait to whore, he cannot let go of the fact that this is the only healing he’s ever going to know. “I tried therapy, I tried talking about it, I went from a psychiatrist to an expert, to so many people who said that they could help and they couldn’t…” He inhales from his cigarette again, exhaling before he can continue “...because the truth is I am so fucked up that not even people trained to fix me could, so I had to find my own ways of coping and to be honest out of the list I had this is the healthiest.”

Logan doesn’t regret asking but he still shifts uncomfortably. Now that Remus is a little tired and a little wrapped up in his bliss, he is not the same person who dragged him home from the club; he is softer, calmer, and brushing eyeliner off his eyes with his fingers. “I’d say I’m sorry but I get the notion you’re not the type of person to want pity.” The younger laughs shortly in response, smiling around his cigarette as he nods his head. “I do apologise if I overstepped, however, sincerely.”

“I’m an open book, you can ask me any question and I’ll answer it, but only if you can handle the crazy.” He winks as he slides off of the window ledge, putting his cigarette out on his ashtray “Now if you don’t have work tomorrow, old man, I’ve got a few more ideas…”

Logan does not manage to shake Remus after that, he gets caught up in his life, not romantically; Remus has no want for such a relationship, but sexually they get tangled up in each other on many occasions, after a while, Logan shelved the guilt. But he eventually calls it quits, not for any other reason but that he needs to move on with his life; because that’s what people his age do, they go to work and they fall in love and they get married. Time is not running out for a thirty-year-old, but there are still things he wants and needs that Remus does not. There’s no argument, no bitter conversation, he just says “this is the last time.” and Remus nods and lets him go.

But every now and then, Remus catches him at the club with a pretty piece of arm candy, and they shoot a small smile to each other between the crowds.

#not safe for sanders

61 notes · View notes

babysizedfics · 4 years

Note

Back at it again with a couple more HC prompts, which imma just dump in one, and you can pick which ones you want. Puddles with the kiddos, family baking sessions when both are regressed, Ro wanting attention whilst Logan is reading, so climbing all over his book, how their reactions to new stuffies differ, regressed versus non-regressed birthdays.... Etc... 👍

okokokokok buckle up everyone

Puddles:

this is the only one where i have to be like .. i don't think so :0 see virgil can get very nervous when it rains because he's so anxious about 'is it gonna storm? will there be thunder? will we be hit by lightning? will there be a flood? what if one of us slips and hurts our head??' that he just cannot relax enough to be able to jump around in puddles because 'WHAT IF I SLIP IM GONNA DIE' and the wetness on his skin sets off the wrong sensory feelings so jumping in muddy puddles is a no for him (as much as he loves peppa pig)

and roman is a fussy little thing, he may not care as much for his appearance when he's small but i think he will still be conscious enough to notice if he gets wet hair and muddy clothes - plus i feel like roman's mood is quite tied to the weather, on dark days he tends to fee a little more gloomy, ao again not sure about this especially if he wouldn't have his baby brother there with him

Baking:

OH BOY so roman is a great cook okay? like chef level he has honed his skills so that he can make romantic meals for handsome princes, but baking? nu uh, too technical, he ain't got time for that. Patton is the baker of the house and makes cookies and cupcakes way too often for Logan's liking (but secretly he loves them of course, he's just concerned for everybody's teeths) but both CGs will cook dinner when the boys are little

When the boys are regressed they're not allowed much in the kitchen anymore. after roman tried to make breakfast in bed for his CGs and started a very small but very real fire he has lost some kitchen rights (ficlet coming to you at some point perhaps) and is not allowed in the kitchen without at least one CG. even if he can switch so quickly between headspaces, he ends up either 1) too stubborn to come out of little space, or 2) a kittle bit clumsy when he comes out of it

but to make up for roman being upset by this slight loss of independence (he is a big kid after all) patton and he do weekly baking sessions! and there's always a theme. most recently they had animal crossing themed cupcakes, a little mermaid themed jello (not technically baking but roman wanted to but little fish gummies in the jelly), and... the next one is a secret because i might put it in chapter 7 (: in fact chapter 7 will feature the first instance of this tradition!!

virgil has pyrophobia (fear of fire) and so is never keen to be in the kitchen while there's food preparation going on (but he was allowed to help with the under the sea jello!!) so roman and pattons baking sessions are an excuse for mama and baby bonding time! the tradition didn't start until after virgil's separation anxiety from patton had eased up a little so luckily there's barely any tears

mama baby bonding time consists of but is not limited to: sitting on mama's lap, doing puzzles together, (vee trying to suck on a puzzle piece and crying when he's told not to), mama reading baby books to vee, vee touching all the textures and flaps in the baby books, snuggles

Ro wanting attention while Lo is reading:

this is 1000% canon!! later in the series logan will often be at work in his room and have the boys with him because patton is busy with something or another. they realise they really do need to keep working for thomas' sake but manage to integrate the boys' littlespaces into it. Eg. logan dangling baby plastic keys from one hand to amuse girgil while he's typing with the other

but when it's quiet time, when patton is in virgil's room because the baby is having a nap and papa wants to watch over him, when roman hasn't been little because he's been working or simply not in the mood earlier that day, when logan is just chilling, just reading a stephen hawking book in the living room, when he's literally just vibing, roman can and will launch himself into logan's lap sending the book flying and logan isn't allowed to tell him off because 'I'm little now! i want attention now!! hi mom!!!!'

New stuffies:

AHHHHHHHHH this this this is so so cute!!

roman never used to care much for soft toys before okay? before he was ever a little sure he appreciated disney action figures (he used them to block out scenes he wrote for theatre productions and screenplays and fanfiction) sure he always had a soft spot for Mrs Fluffybottom his childhood toy, but she always just sat on a shelf, he never fet the need to cuddle her or play with her

but when he realises he's little, when he starts playing with vee, when he sees how much vee cares about his soft animals, when patton and logan buy him a present to welcome him to the littlespace family and it's a golden teddy bear (soon to be named Aladdin) with big brown beady eyes and a satin crimson bow around its neck? yeah big kids love stuffies too

and now whenever roman is gifted a new toy (soft or otherwise) he essentially gets the zoomies!!! his brain is going a million miles a minute with all the game possibilities and with the excitement of NEW PRESENT!!! and with the happiness that his caregivers thought about him and he's been a good enough boy to deserve gifts?? yeah he's so so so excited he canNOT stand still he runs around the house for a whole hour flinging his new toy around (yeah he's a bit rough with them and there's been more than one torn limp or loose eye but he doesn't care it just shows how much they're loved!)

Now virgil: this boy is very very very emotionally attached to his stuffies. when he was a "dark side" he couldn't have much soft stuff because it just went against everything the household stood for and he couldn't risk the others finding out about how not-scary he really was, but he allowed himself a single stuffed rabbit that was easy to hide and that he loved with all of his being. it was his security blanket and his one item that could offer him comfort in a oanic attack and his only posession that he felt was true to him and not true to the scary facade he put up to scare thomas and the "light sides" into listening to him

without spoiling anything, that bunny was left in that house when he moved to the "light sides"

and in his new home virgil started collecting soft toys whenever he needed comfort. everytime he felt unwanted, every time he had an anxiety attack, everytime there was a thunderstorm predicted for the next week he would get himself a new soft toy because that was the only way he knew to comfort himself. needless to say he's got a pretty big collection now. you might think he became desensitized to new toys because of how many times he had gotten himself a new one, and you might be partly right.

that is until for the first time ever he is given a stuffie by someone else... when logan buys him a soft toy in apology for accidentally revealing his regression to everyone ((yes i am writing this fic!))

it wasn't really logan's fault, virgil should have been more aware he should have been more careful he should have hidden it all better but the logical side was guilt-ridden nonetheless. virgil hadn't expected much to be honest, the sincere apology was enough for him

but when logan blushed and shyly opened a box and handed him a black cat stuffie? virgil had to fight very very hard not to outright sob on the spot. he simply took it, thanked logan shakily, and prayed that logan didn't point out the fact that tears were falling onto the fluff of his new stuffed friend Jiji

now whenever he gets a new toy it's different than before - it's not because he's upset and needs comfort, it happens less often now but it's more special, it could be for a holiday or as a way of saying he's been very sweet or just because patton simply couldn't resist this one because look at its cute lil eyes! but each and everytime he knows when he is handed a new toy by one of his family members it really means 'i love you'

and he buries his face in its softness - it used to be to hide his tears, but now he just can't help but squeeze it tight and close and let the feeling of love wash over him

Birthdays:

yknow that episode of steven universe where steven wears a regal cape and a golden crown? yeah that's roman whether he's little or not

seriously this kid is very much the 'it's my birthweek!' type

lots of singing, lots of 'but i'm the birthday boy!!' to try to get thtings he really shouldn't be getting (like a third cookie) (and yes patton caves every single time) (patton is eventually banned from making decisions on romans behalf during his "birthweek")

there's not much difference at all between little romans birthday and big romans birthday, he's just an excitable boy whether he's a kiddo or not - this may or may not make the caregivers question whether maybe he actually was a little before virgil's regression was revealed

(irrelevant but patton definitely makes the pun 'you're a little? a little what? finish your sentences silly billy!')

virgil hates his birthday. hates it.

too much attention, too many things that could go wrong, too much pressure on it being a good day. what if his anxiety is bad that day? what if he doesn't want everyone watching him open presents? what if he's genuinely terrified that people think walking towards him with a big grin, singing at him, and carrying a cakeful of literal fire is a somehow a fun activity??

when he first moved into the house he made it very clear that he does not have a birthday so don't even try to throw him a party

naturally roman and patton were devastated, but after a failed attempt at getting virgil to enjoy his birthday they obeyed logan's request that they not try to push the idea on virgil any further

but the first birthday after they become a little family, it's a bit different

they don't push it, not at first, but virgil does wake up to patton already in his room and cooing at him adoringly , immediately sending him into his regressed headspace

then he's given a new soft toy. that wasn't so bad

then roman let him choose what disney film they watched. that wasnt bad either

then logan cuddled him for an hour and they might have fallen asleep together not noticing the smell of vanilla coming from the kitchen

then there was a new paci, a new rattle, another new soft toy, and cake cut up into tiny squares so he could nibble on it with his fingers

there was no loud singing no big surprises no bright lights or fire or anything else that he hated about birthdays

there was only love and toys and comfort. so virgil really didn't mind birthdays much after that

#wowie wow wow wow that was a lot i hope this is ok??#long post #all caps #food tw #pyrophobia tw #little/big concepts #agere virgil #little virgil #little roman #cg logan #cg patton #asks #anon #agedre roman

33 notes · View notes

anthonyed · 4 years

Text

okay

what if, alpine was introduced by morgan? like she was just out one afternoon feeding gerald stolen goji berries and mom's sandal when the bushes rustle

then gerald like, he stood all protective in front of her and stuff and there's no more movement for a good 3 minutes, and then -

rustle rustle rustle

and a mrow

like tiny, teeny, before teething kittenish meow and morgan is curious, she heads towards the bushes, but gerald wasn't having it right? he's continously intercepting her advance all urgent huffs and sniffless and hooves (does alpaca have hooves??)

another meow and this time morgan just shoves her tiny hand up gerald's nose, "move, gg"

and there behold, he finds the wettest tiny little shaky kitten. Just sad, sad, shivering tiny little lump looking all wide eyes back at her; "mreow?"

and morgan crouches carefully, picks the teeny tiny thing and wraps the hem of her dress around its shaking body and she inhales deep and lets out; "MUMMMMMYYYYY!!!!"

she runs all the way into the kitchen, carefully safeguarding the kitten and trying not to trip while gerald tries to follow but the first clack of his hooves on the pavement and pepper pops out and he stops, circling and huffing and whining while morgan crashes into her mom

they keep it

it's a he and he's something (morgan doesn't wanna name him. she's scared she'll call him something that won't suit him)

they clean him up, takes him to the vet and they come back, get him all settled down when morgan notices that her mom is sniffling, a clump of tissue in her left hand and she's got her head tipped backwards blinking rapidly

"mummy? what's wrong?"

pepper doesn't tell her but eventually morgan finds out that her mum is allergic to cats and dogs and she's torn

cause she loves 'him' but she also loves her mom and she made a promise to her dad once, long long time ago, when he wasn't all blue and untouchable.

she promised she won't make her momma cry again. ever

so when uncle bucky and sam drops by one day, she sits on uncle bucky's lap and presses daisies into his hair (he has long hair and she likes it. not as long as her momma's but her mom doesn't like daisies in her hair unlike uncle bucky) and she tells him about well, 'him'

"Him?"

"Yeah, him. Cause i don wanna mess up his name you see. Charlie's parents named her Apple and she hate's it"

Bucky nods sagely and adjusts her legs over his arm. "Whatcha gonna do?"

She frowns, all tiny mouth and face and she shrugs. Steve lets out an odd sound and Bucky looks up to see a haunted expression on his wrinkled face.

"Whatchu don wanna do?" He asks her instead

"I want him happy," she says, all serious

Bucky can't help but smile as she smacks another flower into his bun. He hands her another handful and she takes them happily.

Steve coughs, "Maybe you can let him for adoption?"

"Adoption," she mouths the word curiously, peering at steve and then back at bucky. "What's a-a-dobtion?"

Bucky sends a glare Steve's way. "Letting other people to take care of him."

"Who?"

"Anyone," Steve answers, "who wants him and is capable of taking care of him."

She twirls a daisy in between her tiny fingers and frowns. She's quiet for a long while before she says, "how would i know they want him?"

"They tell you," steve says.

"How would i know if they're capable?"

"Um, you can - or your mom can ask them and they'll tell you," steve fidgets with his ring while bucky fixed him with a flat stare. You dumb fuck, was the message he's trying to send

"What if they lie?" Morgan Stark asks, big brown eyes curious and demanding and Bucky tried not to shudder while carefully tipping her head towards Steve; ask him, he was the one who started this

And the dumb fuck Steve is, he stumbles through his words and somehow - for fuck sake - ends up saying like this ;

"You trust them"

"Trust?"

"Yes, like Bucky trusts you to not damage his hair with too many daisies"

"Bucky?"

"Yeah...-," and there it was, that fine moment when Steve realised what he'd landed Bucky into and then, the gall of that punk, he ups and leaves, "COMING, SAM!"

While Steve waddles his old arse to the back of the house while Bucky glared laser to set him to burn, big brown eyes turn towards him and tiny, sticky fingers tap over his cheek, "Bucky?"

Basically, that day, Bucky brought home a kitten, fed it, figured out it's best to touch it with his left hand for tiny claws are bitches, put it to sleep in the corner of the living room, woke up to painful pricks to his back and high pitched mews and rolled onto his back so he could become the official bed for his pet kitten; Alpine

#long post #alpine #morgan stark #pepper potts #steve rogers #dumb fuck steeb #inkiniris writes shit #bucky barnes

40 notes · View notes

pretzcl · 5 years

Text

— the last dance

summary | He was the Sun, you were the Moon and all your little stars were slowly aligning. But the Sun and the Moon aren’t destined to be together, no they’re set apart worlds away. When texts become one word, calls left to voicemail and promises made to remain the centre of each other’s universe start to fickle. You suppose if you don’t have your best friend to talk to, you can spend the night in solitude talking to the moon.

{mutual pining au, opposites attract au}

pairing: best friend!donghyuck x fem!reader word count: 11k genre: angst warnings: the story often switches between yn’s perspective and a third person perspective so just be wary of that along with, the flashbacks. also, could i have gotten more cliché with the title?

You sit up in your bed and sigh. Wind breezes from the open window, gliding in swirls around your hair and nose, cooling the sleek metal of the mobile you hold in your hands. The blaring of an electronic xylophone jarred you out of the peaceful unconsciousness and hauled you into a room cloaked by the thick velvet curtain of night.

“Hey, this is Lee Donghyuck. I can’t answer the phone right now. But I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” The audio message fades into the chilly silence.

Brows crinkled, you bury your grumbles in your hands. The skin of your forehead bundles in lines as you squeezed your eyelids shut. Not because you’re wincing at the illumination from your phone in the stark darkness like you wish you were. No, you’re wincing back the tears brimming at the clumps of your wet lashes.

Blots gushing at your lashes blur the brightly lit-up phone screen with the shadows. The mobile slips from your fingers and drops onto the quilted blanket with a soft thud. The satin of your pyjama sleeve is smooth underneath your eyes as you dab the dampness away. While you run a hand through your unruly locks, wheedling yourself into false composure.

But the deep blue billows rolling around in your heaving chest, crash against you causing you to collapse over. Hurt crawls itself from the pit of your stomach and scavenges up your throat in an uproar of silent screams. The rumples of the white sheets crease under your hands behind you in search of a pillow to clutch against your chest and stifle your cries.

The front you lugged throughout the weeks of saying you’re ‘fine’, adding to the tedious misuse of the phrase, leaks in streams down your cheeks. Each bead bears a drop of the rippling weight from your stomach. The frontage caves down into crumbles like that of the white sheets lolling over your body, that had tucked you into the abyss of dreams. You wish you had prolonged your visit in its blissful peace.

One last tear escapes. It trickles along one of the moist trails tracing down the red blotches tinted on your cheeks. The desolate teardrop breaks off the tip of your chin with a soft plop. Though, your stare is vacantly placed at your open window.

Doesn’t he miss the little adventures you had together? Raiding the candy aisle with trolleys basketing the sugariest cereals and ice creams for your movie nights. Swinging side by side, under the golden maple leaves hanging by a thread onto a hunkering tree, dizzying in the elation of euphoria. Heart’s content with soaking up each other’s presence in the comfortable silence until one of you burst into a dancing fit.

Aren’t classes excruciatingly slow with loneliness sitting beside him in a room full of poorly acquainted peers and a wretched old man in suspenders making stiff gestures to a chalkboard?

Isn’t it oppressive plodding through hectic corridors, alone, to a locker abandoned of a someone bouncing at your arrival?

You swallow hard. Doesn’t he… miss you?

A grey banner pops at the top of your phone screen. A gleam glosses over your eyes as you click into the notification and open iMessage. Maybe the midnight's air has been hazing over your mind, clogging your better judgement.

[2:39 PM]:

fullsun: busy rn

The glassy gleam shatters at the realisation. He doesn’t.

A humourless chuckle passes your lips as it dawns on you. That’s one more word you normally receive in a text from him. But it gets caught in your throat after you send, “oh sorry ttyl then :)”, and you bawl into your hands for the second time tonight.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Tired commuters stand patiently, glued to their phones, wedged against each other at the station. The local bus arrives, and the crowd huddled together in a surge through the slid open doors.

Haechan spots an empty seat in the far corner. Holding the strap of his gym bag slung over his shoulder he hustles towards the single seat. In his peripheral, a stalky figure guns for the same seat as him, but he slings his bag down on the top it and lunges into the stiff cushion.

He peers back to see his opponent and is met with the glower of a middle age businessman. The sheen of sweat glinting underneath scraggles of oily hair and patches of stubble on his sallow face convinces Haechan, the businessman isn’t going home to much.

The man took out a handkerchief from his unironed suit pocket and wipes a thick layer of sweat coating his neck. The white cloth immediately becomes limpid. Haechan edges away in his seat. He can imagine him perfectly, hunching over a keyboard surrounded by empty cups of noodles and beer cans, all alone in his cramped apartment.

The businessman mutters something about kids having it easy with no respect these days.

“Thank God. I got this seat,” Haechan yawns loudly enough for the businessman to overhear. “I got up at five and practised at six, then went to school and practised during lunch break, and then practised again after school from three to five this afternoon,” Haechan presses to himself. Haechan shoots a look at the businessman. “And I’m the one who has it easy,” he murmurs.

The bitter glower on the stony businessman’s face cements.

A buzz silently vibrates up Haechan’s thigh. He promptly slips his fingers into the pocket of his grey slacks and pulls out his cell phone. The screen displays a caller id saved as “coffeehead” sequenced by a blue heart emojis.

Haechan shuts his eyes closed as he breathes out, “Don’t answer it, Haechan. Don’t. answer.”

He averts his gaze to the window, looking beyond the claustrophobic confines of public transport. The frame of unrelenting blackness shadowing over the never-ending line of tall industrial buildings fails to capture his attention. Drifting back down to the quiet rattling held in his hands. He nibbles the flesh of his bottom lip with his brows knitted together at his thumb hovering over the green icon.

Haechan pronounces a sigh. Waiting for the muted buzzing from his lap to finally cease in his anticipating fingers, he tenses. An imperceptible pressure lurks over his shoulder. He snaps his head and is faced with a hovering form.

The towering business glares down at the seated boy with a scowl plastered over his greasy face.

“Enjoying the ride, Sir?” asks Haechan mockingly through a Cheshire Cat grin. “Seated,” he sniggers under his breath. The upper lip of the businessman curls into a scowl as dirty as the chewed gum stuck underneath the bus seats. Though, the lour on the face of the vexed businessman is unheeded by the boy leant against the train window.

A message appears across the locked screensaver of a full moon above a white gazebo.

‘Missed call from Y/N’

Ignoring the heaviness lodged in his chest he swipes the notification away before idly drawing a frowny sun in the condensation of the window.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

The moon sails through the ribbons of black clouds swirling through the sprinkles of glitter. Its fluorescence cascades through the windows of your home and bleeds silver into the leaden bedroom. The side of your face trailed in damp streams glistens under the lustre beams. Wiping the wells of dewy crystal, you slide off your bed.

Cautious of your roommates sleeping down the hallway, you tentatively inch towards the window on tiptoes. You sweep what feels like a sweatshirt underneath your toes to the side and resume to treading along the wooden panels with your hands stretched out in front of you.

Palms land flat on the windowsill, brisk underneath your fingers, lifting you up so your back is against the wall and your feet plant on the wall parallel.

The frosty window supports your head tilted upwards. Your gaze transfixed to the great luminous pearl rose in the inky sea. Bathing under the moonlight shower. Completely, entranced by its ethereal glory that you’ve forgotten your cries in the crumples of your bedsheets.

With an index finger, you idly circle the outline of the moon in the condensation, albeit releasing a low sigh.

—flashback

“I was thinking on Saturday you could sleepover and that way I get to take your measurements and see what looks best on you. And then we also get to celebrate your 3rd streak of scoring the lead role in the school play with a movie night… And you’re not listening to me,” you finished flatly. Your head rolled towards the boy beside you. His fray of muted hazels bounced with each clunk over a speed hump.

Lee Donghyuck, or what you like to call him, Haechan. A little nickname you coined together back in the fifth grade during one recess where Donghyuck was teaching you some basic Korean vocabulary for fun. Hae literally means ‘Sun’ while Chan means ‘to be filled with’ and in your little solar system he shone the brightest, so it felt fitting as an eleven-year-old. And it kinda just stuck as he grew more and more into the nickname. People in one way or another that met him felt gravitated to him. He had people orbiting around him; few so close it burned them, most set so far away in the cold, longing for the warmth of being closer. The lucky ones were in the perfect distance to bathe in his radiance. And you? Well, you were a strange, little moon with no planet to orbit around, spinning around on your own, in the opposite direction as everyone else. But somehow, even though you were neither big enough nor close enough to form part of his System, he found you important enough.

“I am listening to you and it sounds fun. I’m just-,” Haechan began before leaning closer to the window. His parted lips hovered over the glass with his hands covering the sides of his mouth. He puffed a few breaths.

The exhale reveals itself onto the window in a pressed cloud.

Detaching his nose pressed to the glass, Haechan nodded, pleased with himself.

“Ok continue,” he said, drawing a smiley-faced sun in the condensation.

“You’re going to be 80, riding in the pensioner seat and still be doing that,” you noted through a small smirk.

The circle of the sun began to vanish against the glass, but you followed the mellow rays flaring from the band. The faint beams led you on a trail from the pretty slope of his nose, along the sharp line of his jaw, and up to the gem under his eye. It’s a little mole. You like to believe it’s a speck from the Sun that had fallen and landed on his left cheek. So, wherever he walks he sets the pathway ablaze with dazzling oranges, brightening up the entire room because he holds a piece of the sun.

“And you’re going to be dead before 80,” quipped Haechan. Never mind, you would much rather believe it’s sun cancer.

“Probably,” you hummed. Your stare grazed the bus seat in front you, knocking the heel of your shoe leather heel back into the foot of your own seat. A clank with each knock at the sturdy metal. You waited for a few seconds to pass by. Once the imaginary timer rang you turned to face Haechan, a flash of mischief flickered in your hues. “But I’m not dead yet so I can still do this.” You lurched your torso over him. An outstretched arm lunged across his white buttoned up shirt. The slickness of the brisk glass is swiped by your hand and you wiped the smiley sun off.

“Hey!” yelped Haechan, loudly enough that a handful passengers turned around. But since you were a pair of high school students, the adults huff in annoyance, then returned to their devices.

Jaw hung wide open. He gaped at the cleared window. Not unusual for a drama kid to react so theatrically. “How dare you,” he rasped.

You rubbed your wet palm against the rigid cotton of your plaid skirt.

“Anyways… on for Saturday?”

“Oh.” The side of his face slightly hollowed as he bit the inside of his cheek. “I can’t…” said Haechan glumly. “I’m busy on Saturday. What about Sunday?”

“I can’t. I have to work the register at the fabric shop,” you mimicked the glum tone of his voice.

“Oh,” he repeated. A hand rustled the nutty blonde at the side of his head. His lips pulled at one side in a lopsided grimace as his eyebrows furrowed together. “Um what about…” he faltered, nibbling on his bottom lip.

“What’s Mr Hyuck up to on Saturday?” you asked.

His sun-kissed face pinched.

“I have to go my auntie’s anniversary party,” he grumbled in the rest of his palm hoisted on the narrow bus window sill.

Your head cocked slightly to the side, “and that sucks because?” Your brow furrowed over your narrowed eyes, fixed on the boy whose gaze wandered off. Something was tugging down on a thread sewn to the corner of his lips. Immediately, you wanted your sewing scissors to snip the thread, unstitching the sullen frown knitted on his face.

He sighed. “It sucks because I was going to ask out Soo-Ah but I found this morning she just started dating Felix”. Absentmindedly, his fingers traced along letters scratched into the window pane. ‘IT’S RAINING HERE TOO’. The words murmured through your mind as you struggled to ignore the knots tied in your stomach at the mention of her name.

Yun Soo-ah. Her name falls prettily off the tongue like rich silk cascading from the waist of a luxurious ball gown. Her raven ribbons pour over her porcelain shoulders, floating an elegant fragrance of jasmine as she minced the school hallways. Thin lashes sweep over her sparkling almond eyes, twinkling specks of glitter from the contact lenses she bought from Etude house. If pearls had a voice, it would sound like her tinkling laughter she covers with a dainty hand. She seats with her legs neatly crossed to the side at the bench, by the marble water fountain near the Geography classrooms.

The bench where all the popular kids sit; Jeno, Ha-Yoon, Jaemin, Ae-cha and… Haechan. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone. He’s sunshine but he’s not just your sunshine. Sunshine isn’t an abstract painting of a peculiar composition of angry geometry and contrasting colours, only to be appreciated by acquired tastes. No. Everyone appreciates the beauty of the abundance of bright rays that paints the monotone world into a metropolis of glorious hues.

Although a spot reserved on the bench for someone had people squinting from their seats to make sure their vision isn’t tricking them.

Yours.

Not that you earned it. How does anyone earn the privilege of sitting at a bench more overrated than the tv series Riverdale? I guess being attractive can get you to three seasons and apparently, a bench by a cherub fountain obscured by veils of moss.

Truthfully, the only reason you had a seat saved with your name is that you have a free get-to-hang-out-with-the-popular-kids-because-Haechan-is-one-and-he’s-too-attached-to-his-first-best-friend-that-has-been-in-his-class-ever-since-Kindergarten-to-let-her-sit-in-the-library-all-by-herself-when-there’s-a-seat-right-here-!! pass.

Jeno, Jaemin, Soo-ah and the rest of the Scooby Doo gang are all nice. Nice in the simplest form of enjoyment. All their conversations sounded the exact same. If you closed your eyes each of their voices would merge into whirs of white noise. You had efficiently narrowed the subjects of their babbling into three categories: how much school sucks, parties and sports. 2 of which you have no interest in, which left school uncrossed but whining about that surprise pop quiz, was only a topic of choice for lunchtime banter that lasted so long before someone brought up sports or parties again.

Though, you all shared something in common apart from breathing. Haechan. They gave up their vacant seat at their pretentious bench to accommodate for your 50 shades grunge. Even if, your matte black Doc Martens clashed with their matching Adidas Superstars. Never addressing the elephant in the room in spite of her electric dyed hair and leather studded jacket. All to make sure the Sun continues to shine brightly.

Unfortunately, you never seemed to share anything else in common with them. You were a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit no matter how hard you all tried wedging you in and that was ok. People don’t always click, to be honest, you really liked Haechan’s friends especially Soo-ah, but it was evident there wasn’t much to go beyond friendly waving at one another in the school corridors. Not long after you began to evade the pause of awkward silence that ensued over the bench at your arrival. As much as Haechan liked to dispute, he shone brightly without you, happy with them and you were happy for him.

He would never admit it, but he was looking out for that little girl. The little girl who sobbed on the bus ride from the first day of school because it was a long way from home by herself. But that little girl grew up into someone who likes the solace of being alone. She likes being lost in the cluster of dreams and unexplored ideas swirling in her mind. She likes the purring of a sewing machine nuzzling beneath her hands rather than the droning of a person. She likes watching from the sidelines over being caught in the whirlwind of being in the present.

In the corner of the library, you found a place to fit your puzzle piece. Enshrouded by the tall shelves encasing Science Fiction books from the reaches of sunlight. Sketching fashion illustrations into your leather covered Visual Arts book. Far, far away from any interminable discussions.

After all, you were the only one who got to bask in the sunset. Your favourite part of the day. His radiance melts into dawn; cheerful smile softens to a small tug of the lips, doe eyes taper lowly with the fade of the blue sky, ripples of laughter soothe to content hums and sighs.

The orbit slows down, and gravity pulls you two together.

“Well, I’m sorry you have to go alone,�� you consoled. He sighed once more. “At least, you don’t have to endure the emotional torment of a fifty-year-old woman because the store doesn’t stock the fabrics she likes,” you poked lightly.

One of the thread sears in frayed halves, loosening a corner of his rosy lips into a quirk.

“Honestly, I haven’t felt anything ever since she berated me for not giving her a 10% discount she didn’t earn,” you ranted monotonously. “And then proceeded to demand to see the manager”.

The threads spilled from his lips onto coils on the ground as his lips stretch into a grin. “That does suck.”

“Not as much as going stag,” you lowly singsong.

Sirens set off, flashes of vigilant red burn brightly in your mind shouting, “Too soon” on repeat. How insensitive are you? The stoplight reds shrieked at you. He floated around Soo-ah plastered with the universal goofy face teenage boys make when they like someone. Don’t make him sulky because she doesn’t realise, she holds the most irreplaceable orb in her dainty hands.

You were about to blubber apologies when he joked, “See. This is a prime example of why you don’t have any friends.” A breath hitched in your throat released.

“What do you mean? I have Renjun,” you state, a little too proudly.

“The kid who believes in ghosts?” A questioning look drew on his face in cynicism.

“And aliens,” you added promptly. Ignoring the eyebrow, he mockingly raised you continued, “He has some compelling theories. Not that you would understand.”

“And what, the Earth’s flat?” he sassed, waving jazz hands up in the air.

“This is the type of thinking that’s going to get you killed in an apocalypse,” you chastised, nose upturned to his supercilious gaze.

The shrug of his shoulder must have tripped his round doe eyes because the chocolate chips vanished into the milky white like a reflex. He’s so delicious, you thought as you watch the sunlight glazed over his face in drips of golden honey straight from the comb. That day you wrote down his gorgeous eye roll in a blank space of the list of things you loved about the Sun.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

The clouds once wisps of paper white have matted in thick, scratchy grey wool. A spurt of wind squeezes from the bus doors sliding close and is fleeting against Haechan’s back. Silently cursing the thin fabric of his pressed white shirt as cold slithers down his exposed neck, he treads the pathway.

The soil shielded by spouts of fresh grass emitted a pale musk, whisking a warning to quicken his pace, in the humid air. The scowl on Haechan’s face resembles one of the businessmen when the thought of the blue plaid fabric left in its stand by the front door taunts him. He digs an arm in his bag for the slumped material limp over his school books and heaves a sleeve through the opening. The jacket is thick and grey like the clouds hovering low in the sky awash in charcoal. Hastily, he pulls the hood over his flattened hair sprinkled in tiny dewdrops and zips the jacket to his chin. The jacket fails to instantly envelop his body in comforting warmth rather, attaching onto his torso pointlessly. The warmth clings to the lining to the jacket, reluctant to relieve the shivering of Haechan’s form, until he paces further along the sidewalk.

She wouldn’t have forgotten her umbrella. She wouldn’t have let him forget his.

His legs trace the familiar path towards a convenience store tucked in the corner of the intersection, but his mind fogs with wistful thoughts.

If only I told her, maybe it would have been different.

The white light of the mercury lamp glinted off the cell phone that he held in his hand.

It’s too late to tell her now.

Ruefully, he jostles open the glass door plastered in colourful advertisements for discounted food. A bell chimes at his entrance and heat from the vents of a rickety air conditioner immediately greets him with a hug of a doting mother. The unbothered store clerk’s head slumps in the palm of his pudgy hand, his cheek cushioning under his eye as he idly flicks through a magazine.

Haechan noses towards the narrow aisle of snack foods. A rainbow of shiny packaging blurs in his peripheral. Chocolates, crisps, Cup of Noodles, sodas, more crisps and finally, biscuits.

He holds up two slim rectangular boxes, in bold white letters “Pocky” printed in the centre, one red and the ladder pink. His hands shift, as to weigh both options in each hand, in a sedulous survey.

Eyebrows scrunched together creasing a slight line in his forehead. “Strawberry or chocolate?”

— flashback

Y/n’s impatience filled her with a suppressed urge to tap her foot as she waited for Haechan to decide which Pocky flavours he wanted.

“You always do this,” she huffed with her hands on her hips. The set of bangles embellished in faux diamonds reflected the fluorescent ceiling lights.

“It always a hard decision,” Haechan huffed back. “Do I feel like the original, Chocolate?” He lifts the small red box up in the air disregarding the way Y/N’s eyes glazed over with a look that states, ‘He’s got to be kidding me.’ “Or… Do I feel like, spicing it up a little bit, with Strawberry?” He then shifts his hands like a balance scale, holding the pink box up.

Y/N’s glossy red lips pressed together in a firm line, but the ends twitched and Haechan was pretty sure she was fighting off a smile. Haechan has seen her wear the same red lipstick a million times before, but for some reason noticing it that day made his mouth go dry.

“You’re unbelievable,” she chuckled and revealed her teeth that shone white against the bold lipstick. She slipped the Strawberry flavoured Pocky from Haechan’s grasp and back into the colourful assortment on the shelf. “You always end up getting disappointed with strawberry,” she said before walking off.

Unknowingly, a smile softened his face.

The click-clack of her leather boots on the grimy tiles jingled the chain latched to her skirt. She’s the last person you would want to be trapped in a horror movie with, Haechan thought. You might as well scream at an axe murderer if you were to be stuck with Y/N and her orchestra. Though, the thoughts vanished within the air that her arms swayed in, followed by the light swishes of her plaid skirt. Casually she sashayed away, weaving around the corner of a narrow aisle. It was spellbinding. So much so, that Haechan couldn’t shift a glance away like she was the Moon turning pirouettes beneath the Heavens, for no applause.

People were mistaken, the Moon didn’t droop low in the waning darkness, casting striking metallic over the land. The Moon hummed quietly, swept above from Earth, glowing the iridescence of a pearl. It drew the curtain of silver, shone against her buttermilk complexion behind her ear. Revealing the milky way copied in her eyes. The night fluttered over her eyes in ink dipped feathers, batting gently together with each blink.

Y/n glided her finger over the magazines propped in the rack, matching the glossiness of the covers with her nail polish. One piqued her interest, its cover was of a model in a dress like a pastry made out of pink ribbons and frills, lots of frills. A fashion magazine, she claimed she never had enough of them, and it was simply impossible to have too much inspiration. She flipped halfway through the magazine, almost expectant of what she was going to see, and her eyes instantly trained on the page.

Ethereal. At the time, Haechan didn’t know why the word she used, a thousand times about a heavenly themed fashion show in Rome, came to his mind. He didn’t know why his feet suddenly felt lighter with each step closer to her as if he was floating on air. What was he going to do when finally closed the space between both of her, he didn’t know. Tease her? Hug her? Hold her? Kiss-

Smack!

Guess he didn’t know there was a shelf in from of him either.

“Hyuck! Are you ok?” Blackness clouded his sight, but he heard her voice clearly. She was close.

Pain rushed to the veins pulsing hot blood to his forehead. His hand flew to the side of his head in a vain attempt to soothe the throbbing ache, wincing contact of his own skin.

The black clouds parted and revealed Y/N’s face constrained into a dozen lines. The tiny creases scrunched in her nose matched the crinkles at the corners of her eyes, furrowed by her chalky eyebrows. Her mouth twitched in different directions to keep her lips stuck together in a firm line.

“Geez. Some friend you are,” he deadpanned at his very unsympathetic best friend.

“How do you walk into a shelf? It was right in front of you!” she gibed.

“It was not right in front of me!” It most certainly was right in front of him.

She didn’t respond but held her sides as though she had a stomach ache. He studied her face. The subtle upward quirk of her red lips told him she was smothering her chortles. She then pointed feebly with a shaking finger at the shelf Haechan walked straight into, corrupting in a fit of mocking yet, hearty guffaws.

Haechan laughed too, despite nursing where a sickly purple welt would stain.

She exhaled a loud sigh to conclude the end of her outburst in the cramp convenience store. How she didn’t break a rib in the midst of her uncontrollable convulsions left Haechan in complete wonder. He had opened his mouth to jibe back as they normally would, being friends for so long, but he stood with a small gape gracing his cinnamon features. Y/n gently wiped her the corner of her eyes as the last giggle escaped from her mouth. Perhaps the tug on his bounded heart had strings to his tongue.

A spark lit the warm umber of his hues.

Y/n’s laugh sets Haechan’s body on fire but, softly, like that of a cozy bonfire. One where you crisp marshmallows into a golden auburn and then, plunge into your mouth before it drooped into a glump of pillowy sugar. She would laugh free-spiritedly, unafraid of the joy to riddle her face like dandelions scattered in a meadow field. Yet, explosive like the blissful moment when you hold someone’s hand counting down to a firework. Her weak knees would buckle at the sudden euphoria and she would hobble over the floor, giggling through her nose.

The spark ruefully dimmed at the sad realisation she doesn’t laugh like that anymore. Not even then, it was still contained. There were no adorable little snorts that intermission her hearty chortles. Y/n claimed her laugh was obnoxious, boisterous albeit Haechan thought she couldn’t be more wrong. Though, it wasn’t delicate laughter that ripples like tinkling bells in the cafeteria. But he didn’t want a public declaration of ladylikeness so obviously forced, making him doubt what he said was actually funny. What did he want?

Y/N returned to the magazine stand.

“So… Are you doing anything on Saturday?”

“Thought we had this conversation on the bus,” she replied flatly, too concentrated on finding the place she left off in the magazine.

“We did,” he swung back and forth on his toes. “But…” he drew out, perking Y/N’s attention from the pages of the fashion magazine opened in her manicured hands. “You never said if you were busy on Saturday.”

Y/n cocked her head at Haechan with quizzical look pinched on her face possibly, contemplating on how she should approach answering him. A second or so went by while Y/n eyed Haechan. He batted his lashes over his doe eyes, that were bigger and browner than before, a small smile curled at the end of his lips.

“I’m not,” she said in a questioning tone.

“Great!” he exclaimed. He swung a tanned arm around her shoulders, “So that means you can be my plus-one at the party.”

The wide grin sported on his stretched lips made Y/n’s hand twitch by her side. Her fingers curled, resisting the nerve itching to slap the shit-eating look right off his caramel face. Instead, fumed a steady exhale from her nose and she returned to her magazine.

She licked her finger and turned a page. The page dived and slid into the other pages as she stated, “So can Jaemin.”

“He’s busy,” he replied quickly like playing a game of Snap and shooting your hand to slam at the deck before processing the cards that have been placed.

“Jeno?” she raised an eyebrow over her magazine.

“Also, busy.” Haechan knew for certain the only thing Jeno would be busy with, was playing Overwatch but he slammed his hand on the deck anyways.

Y/n eyebrows scrunched upwards together and a ‘hmm’ withdrew from her lopsided pressed lips. “What about-”

“Everyone’s busy,” Haechan sharply cut her off. He was really terrible at this game of Snap.

“Well, I don’t want to come if I’m your last choice,” she disclosed as she flicked another page from the magazine.

Haechan’s whole face screwed up. “You were just listing off people, so you didn’t have to go!” he huffed in boiling frustration.

Y/n shrugged, her only interest tended to a model who cast a faraway gaze in a gown that folded over like aluminium foil.

Haechan’s frustration was as short-lived as a flash storm because his attention whisked away to a strand of Y/n’s platinum hair that flowed in a stream by the side of her face. His hand reaches towards the blonde ribbon poured by her cheek. The wispiness of the stray hair graced the tips of his fingers about to tuck the lock behind her ear.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked curtly, shooting the boy a cold stare and the wisps were merely fleeting against his fingertips.

“Your hair it’s-,” not sure how to finish the question, he leant closer to her. The ice rimed on her face melted, the sceptical squint of her eyes rounded into a mixture of shock at the feeling of wisps being swept along her cheek and behind her pierced ear.

The realisation of what Haechan had done, piled down on him like in those cartoons where a barrel of bricks clunk over a character in a heavy downpour. Before the bricks knock him unconscious and collapsed on the floor as a halo of stars circled above his head, he instinctively jabbed his index finger outwards. The fullness of Y/n’s cheek indented around his finger and triggered a twitch of her eye. Humoured by the irritation pooled in her eyes, he poked the soft flesh again, watching a scowl twist itself onto her mouth. She hissed, “You better stop that, or I will eat your firstborn.”

“See, that threat was scary before you used it on me 500 times,” he jested, relieved he played off whatever that was.

“Haechan I swear, you better stop-” her face scrunched up at the contact on his finger pressing into her cheek another time.

“Only if you agree to come with me,” he singsonged, a fleer curving his face.

She rolled her head back hurling a groan from the depths of her chest, stomping her foot.

“Come on, please. Don’t make me go by myself,” needled Haechan.

“What’s so wrong about going alone?” she asked but the exasperation trickling in her voice insinuated she wasn’t interested in an answer.

So, he replied to her question with another question, “What’s so bad about being with people?” The indignation of how he huffed back caught him off guard, and the way Y/N’s eyes widened for a split second, told him she was too.

They both emptied a sigh. Their eyes were on one another, not saying a word but thinking the same thing, “Have we always been so different?”

Y/n lashes fluttered over her eyes as her stare faltered to the floor. She lifted her head up to the ceiling, her attention shifted to the ceiling fan wheeling in bumpy coils. His eyes followed the tracings of where her gaze had been and stopped at the stuttering fan as well.

They stood less than a hand’s reach away but the ground under their feet felt as if a whole universe separated them.

Spaced out, a voice pulls Haechan back, “I don’t have a dress.”

“Huh?” Unable to have coined the words said to him to make any sense.

“I don’t have a dress,” Y/N repeated, still looking at the ceiling.

“You’re coming?” he asked dumbfounded turning to face her.

“Yeah,” she sighed.

“You don’t have to,” Haechan said feeling slightly deflated. The heaviness of his heart sunk in his stomach. Anchored at the thought of her only coming out of obligation.

“I want to,” she reassured him. The ceiling had finally released her gaze and she gently smiled at him albeit, it seemed unsure. “But you’re sharing those because I don’t want to pay for my own,” she chimed motioning to the Pocky box in his hand with a bright grin stretched on her lips.

— end of flashback

A touch of a smile wisps his lips. Chocolate, it is.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Most nights, darkness is absolute, scattered stars wrung in the sky like Christmas lights low on batteries, flickering their last breaths. The approaching of midnight preys on the awakening of the pale moon. It covers the moon with a velvet black blindfold before engulfing the orb. The moon on most nights wanes into nothing more than a dwindled strand of silver string.

But tonight, isn’t like most nights.

The moon rose from beneath the shadowy depths it had been buried under for far too many nights. Tonight, the moon doesn’t want to be hidden. And it won’t be hidden. Not behind the creeping grey clouds lurking thugly as if they owned the expanse of the sky. Not behind the black silhouettes of slender hands clawing high into the night to spill the moonlight into creaks of streams. No, tonight the Moon, the rightful ruler of the night banishes the measly grey wool of its kingdom and the trees are set free of their curse. Sat on a crisp white cushioned throne, the moon listens to you. A hum of acknowledges lowly breathes through sleeping leaves. The breeze arrives at your body propped on the window sill like wave uncurling onto the shore. So alleviated by the night’s serenity, your eyes are closed, and you inhale a deep breath of the brisk air. Your head rolls back as the coolness fills your lungs and seeps into your veins. The chill soothes down your body as taking a sip from a steamy tea would relieve others.

Midnight washes over your body.

The waves immersing your body freezes at the touch of your skin. Your eyes snap open wide at the unfamiliar chillness piecing into the air. Thorns stick up at the back of your neck. A boa constrictor coil tightens around your heart beating rapidly against your chest. It’s quiet but suddenly you’re conscious of your own breathing and your sense of hearing heightens.

The grass in your backyard has yet to be cut. It’s long and unruly, much like your hair at this very moment. However, your thoughts aren’t on your unkempt locks as you skittishly dart your glances over your garden, hissing with crickets and spotted with fluffy dandelions. Towering up above it all was a mighty elm. A voice is rationalising your terrified stricken mind, suggesting it could be the flapping of bird wings, or heavy gates shuffling in the wind. Surely, there must be a reasonable explanation but that doesn’t stop your body from twitching, desperately wanting to flee to your bed and hide under the sheets like a child. Your ears prick at an unsettling sound, it’s clearer this time. A bush crouching insignificantly by the elm tree shakes. Eyes glued to the dark silhouette of leaves rustling hazardously, you’re unable to detach your body, glued to the window sill. For a split second, the fear wracking your body pauses as you think the bush jitters like its leaves are being tickled and its wiggling under the sensation. The bush shakes off its final rustle and you could almost laugh the breath hitched in your throat. A ginger cat springs from the bush shadowed from the tree hunkering above it.

The neighbour’s cat, you sigh. The mangy little thing often, trotted alongside ever since you moved here, accompanying you on the last ten steps home every day from school. Tail held high, its feline pride bottled up inside the purr as he beckons for his reward for being such a lovely escort. Which he would shortly receive, after a much-deserved eyeball roll and leaning down you would press a kiss on his fluffy kitty head.

He trots tentative steps towards you. His soft teal eyes meet yours. Somehow, the night is captured in the blue of his eyes and it transcends you back to the tranquillity tranced by the moonlight. Suddenly, he breaks eye contact and scampers away into the shadows. But the moon’s lustres fill his departure with a feeling as soft the silken ginger of his fur rubbing up against your legs.

— flashback

The tepid milky liquid ran smoothly down your throat. Having sat by your sewing machine in a forgotten coffee mug, it had long since devoid of any warmth. Your fingers curled around the ceramic, frowning at how the heat barely spread through your hands. The last sip of what would be your fifth cup of espresso slushed in your mouth as you pondered to yourself, “How long has it been?” The bitterness in the lustrous texture is drowned by the lukewarmness albeit, a tang lingered on your tongue. You haven’t quite grown accustomed to the bitter taste richly engrained in coffee but a self-induced caffeinated high was the only way you were going to finish sewing in time for Haechan’s aunt's party. Besides, Anna Wintour wouldn’t down a Coca Cola straight from the can, that seemed as much as a mix-match as animal print and polka dots.

You drew your lower lip between your teeth, there was something not quite right. Attaching the bodice to the skirt of the dress had you anticipating the sense of accomplishment that would have overcome you with a sigh of contentment. Yet, the completed garment looked more like a dead piece of fabric, hung limply over the table as if the sewing machine was a fox biting into the flesh of its prey’s neck. The crystal blue satin was supposed to make you feel stunning and wearing what you had thought of as a small dead animal surprisingly, convinced you weren’t exactly going to feel like a dazzling star against the night sky.

After mulling over what could possibly be missing; sequins, frills, embroidery, ribbons? You decided that perhaps looking at it from a new perspective would help solve the case of: is it in need of sprinkling some sparkly sequins or spicing it up with trendy floral embroidery. Or maybe floral prints embroidered out of sequins? Best of both worlds, isn’t that what Hannah Montana was always preaching about? Another cup of coffee was surely needed or else you might have started singing, “You get the limo out front~”.

You pushed the chair from under you by swinging your feet from in front of you. In a series of clumsy movements, you managed to plunge towards your wardrobe, fling the doors of your closet wide open, one arm reached inside and then, awkwardly wrapped it around Belle. You clambered across your room back to your makeshift fashion studio corner and placed Belle in front of the standing mirror. Belle, short for Annabelle, is your trusty tailor dummy. Belle and you have been together from designing Haechan’s costumes from when he starred in the elementary school plays, all the fashion terrorism in between, to scratching up an A-line dress under 2 days.

With delicate hands, you sifted the dress over the top of your mannequin. Wary of any possible loose stitches, you gently tugged and padded the sides of the dress down. A flake of your nail polish chipped onto your tongue while you examined the dress from a few steps back. Tilting your head to the side, you slowly removed your finger from your mouth, scraping tiny flakes off your nail. You felt the corners of your eyes wrinkle as a smile curled your face and bubbled out a titter. Moments ago you were convinced the dress was so flat of life but there you stood peering into your reflection in the mirror, imagining yourself waltzing down a staircase. At the bottom of the flight of stairs would be Haechan enchanted by how resplendent you would look in the glorious light blue dress. Too overjoyed by your little fantasies twirling in your mind, you had to shake yourself out of your daze because you needed to the hem of the dress.

Upon returning into your bedroom, you winced at the sip of your freshly brewed espresso. It was piping hot and overly bitter though, it was much preferred over the old bath water from the last cup. Nonetheless, it was a source of caffeine so you planned to drink it like a mum unwinding herself with a bottle of red wine. Looking up from the mug wrapped in both your hands, your face squeezed into an expression of perplexion. Startled, you stood frozen in the doorway of your room. Your whole body stiffened in a pose of one of Medusa’s victims at the sight in front you of you. Panic struck over your limbs. Mouth hung agape, you could have sworn you left Belle in front of the mirror and not by the bedroom door. Your heart pounded rapidly against your chest when you remembered you were home alone since your parents were out of town for a business trip. The house was empty, swallowed by the silence it heightened your consciousness of your own breathing.

In some part of your brain, probably the rational part that seemed to be missing at the moment, you knew you should have knew returned Belle and hemmed your dress, spending the last night as a mature and productive teenager. Although, would a mature and productive teenager even be up at that hour? Anyways, you released a shriek from your gut and sprinted to the living room, stumbling down a flight of stairs. Logic was overruled by fear and fight to flight. And even though you knew you probably overreacting, you were certain you did not move Belle an inch from the mirror!

Fled from the haunted mannequin and the entire second story of your home, you sped dialled the top caller ID saved on your phone. “Please pick up. Please pick up. Please pick up,” you whispered to yourself like an eerie broken record player with the phone pressed to your ear. The hushed chants soon interrupted by a voice thick with sleep.

“It’s 1am,” Haechan groaned at the end of the line.

You chewed the flesh of your bottom lip suddenly rethinking your choice of calling him in the middle of a school night, in the midst of your episode of freak encounters.

“I know but could you come over?” you asked through a grimace like you bit into a lemon.

“It’s 1am!” Had you not been so focused monitoring the staircase of a moving mannequin you would have rolled your eyes. Like he was actually whisked away to the call of slumber when the raucous clicking and gunshots were so obviously heard in the background. Before you could call him out for playing OverWatch on a school night at 1am, he simply said, “Yeah sure but why though?”

A few seconds at the end of your line were silent, debating on how you should phrase that your tailor dummy could very well be cursed. “I think Belle moved on her own,” you said through the same ‘this lemon is so sour’ expression from earlier.

“Ooh Annabelle, told you she’s creepy,” Haechan joked, however, there was a lot of truth to it. The first time you showcased your favourite birthday present to your best friend, Haechan declared it to be named after the notorious demonic doll.

But with Belle living up to her legacy you frantically started to whisper, “No Haechan, I’m serious. When I left the room to get coffee she was in front of the mirror but when I came back she was near the door.”

“Maybe you should call Renjun to come over instead and then maybe he can bring his Ouija board to speak to it,” he jested.

“Not funny.” The last thing you had wanted in your home, which had already been inhabiting a haunted mannequin was an Ouija board. But it was kinda funny.

“Okay, I’m out the door. See you in 5. I mean.... if you don’t die until then.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Haechan tugged on the ends of a long scrap of fabric, squeezing it tightly apart in each hand. “Okay I think we’re safe now,” said Haechan dusting his hands together.

“I don’t know Hyuck maybe we could just sleep in the lounge room,” Y/n suggested from the doorway of her bedroom.

“What do you mean I just-,” he dramatically waved his hands at the wardrobe doors bounded at the handles with the blue satin. “It’s locked up!”

“You locked it up with fabric!” She flung her hands in the air, pointing towards the wardrobe as well.

“It’s not even real, you crackhead!”

Y/n scrunched her nose and crossed her arms over chest.

“Fine!” he huffed. Haechan walked over to her desk and made an apparent gesture of placing his hands on the chair. Before he pulled the chair from underneath the desk he turned his face to mock Y/n with a fleer. The chair bumped against one of the legs of the table and he noticed something light shuffle off the edge of the desk. He continued to drag the chair along the carpet and stopped in front of the wardrobe then, lodged it under the bounded handles creating somewhat of a barricade against the door.

“Better?” he smiled tauntingly.

“Whatever. I’m going to grab extra blankets.”

He watched her plaid purple pyjamas meld into the dimness of the hallway. Light footsteps echoed off the walls in the corridors, leaving him alone in her bedroom with the image of her scrunched-up face in his mind. He shook his head, chuckling at how she arched her eyebrows at him, gruffly crossing her arms. “What has gotten into me?” he sighed. It’s not the first time he has seen her pout and dig in her heels in the ground, seeming that he takes pride in ruffling her feathers as a joke. But tonight made him feel like the joke was on him. That his feelings were playing a silly prank on him. The week before, he was fascinated by the glossy red moving with each word she spoke passionately about the illustrations she was working on. A day ago, he caught himself hypnotised by how she walked down an aisle in a convenience store. On the first step upon entering her bedroom, his eyes caught of the beautiful blue dress clothed on the mannequin, instantly imagining Y/N adorned in the materialised diamonds.

A fleck of white glinted in the corner of his eye, slicing him away from the internal battles, that were his thoughts. Upon stepping closer, he recognised it was a sheet of paper that fell to the ground when he bumped the chair into the legs of the desk. Crouching down on the balls of his feet, he picked up the paper half expecting it to be a design y/n sketched during class. Briefly, he scanned the paper held in hands, his brows knitted together, registering what he had thought was going to be a drawing of dress, was a letter. At the top of the letter was an emblem, similar to the emblem to the school Haechan and yn go to but this one had scissors and measuring tape. His eyes started to anxiously search for an answer to what this letter could possibly be until he stopped at a sentence in bold.

‘We are happy to inform you that the Paris Institute of Fashion has accepted your application for admission.” He got his answer; an acceptance letter, and a lump in his throat.

A soft thud lifted Haechan’s downturned stare to a pile of quilted blanket unfolding at sock-clad feet. He met Y/n’s widened eyes with an empty stare, watching how her irises flickered from his face to the letter held in his hands. The drawn down corners of his lower lip quivered as the words merely whispered from his mouth, “When were you going to tell me?”

Y/n began to shake the head fervently, stuttering, “I- I don’t know…” Her voice faltered as she cast her gaze to her feet, feeling guilt under the scrutiny of his emotionless stare.

“You don’t know when you were going to tell me?” his chest rising from the slumped posture of shoulders. “Was it when you’re halfway across the world?” he sniped.

The sudden rise in the volume of his voice had y/n immediately grinding her teeth. “Why were you snooping through my stuff!” she retaliated, deflecting his interrogation and sitting him down at the turned detective’s table.

Haechan jaw jutted forward a couple times before he spluttered back, “I wasn’t!” He shot back defensively, “I dropped it when I was moving the chair and I went to pick it up!”

“You didn’t have to read it!” she retorted, marching over to him and snatching the letter from his grip.

“Seriously? ” he asked incredulously, only to be answered with a cold stare hardened on her face. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I said I don’t know,” she exasperated. The iciness sharpened on her face melted slowly into weariness.

Haechan gulped dryly, his throat hoarse from shouting. In preparation for an answer, he knows will make his heart drop deeper into his heaved chest, “Do you want to go?”

“Yes.”

The single syllable penetrated through the room, deafening silence between them, so blaring that it echoed through Haechan mind. A roll of film played on the fastest speed in his mind of their little adventures from when they were six and would swing side by side, under that enormous maple tree at the local park. To walking side by side on the first day of high school with their timetables opened, as they tried to find which classes they shared. To earlier that morning, sitting side by side on the bus ride to school, sharing earphones, listening to a playlist they made together on a sleepover a week ago. He swallowed hard. Wouldn’t she miss being side by side?

“It’s late and we should go to bed,” she said trailing back to pick up the pile of blankets dropped in the middle of the doorway. She glanced back to him, “Are you going to help me?”

Air escaping from beneath the sheets as the thick quilt sunk on top of the bed was the only intermission of silence within the bedroom. Haechan gruffly reached for a pillow and settled it in the middle of the bed. He picked up another one and aligned it with the other one, not once making eye contact with the girl tugging the quilt at the top corners of the bed.

“I don’t want the first thing I see tomorrow morning to be your face,” Haechan said. Answering the quizzical look he knew was ridden all over her face when he placed yet, another pillow down the centre of the bed.

“Oh really,” she replied, picking up a frilly cushion from the floor. “Well I guess soon enough I won’t have to see your face for any longer,” she hummed, adding the cushion on top of the Great Pillow War of Y/n’s Bed.

“Ha! You really think I’m going to let you live across the world and not facetime you every day. Y/n, you poor delusional girl,” he shook his head in faux dismay.

“Threat or a promise?” she grinned.

“Both,” he grinned back.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Donghyuck walks through the unlocked front door to his home, juggling his opened packet of Pocky and his house keys in one hand. A series of gunshots and yelling resound from the living room, far from the seductive call of a siren but Donghyuck blindly follows anyways.

“How was vocal practice?” Johnny, his older brother, asks. Not looking up from the television screen as his thumbs hammer into the controller gripped in his hands.

“Usual,” Donghyuck says, with a mouth full of chocolate flavoured Pocky. Chocolate never did seem to disappoint.

“So how’s y/n?” The mention of her name takes him back for a second especially, out of Johnny’s mouth. He never really express any sort of opinion of her, Donghyuck at times, even forgot the two knew of each other.

“Good I guess,” he replies nonchalantly, walking over to grab the spare console controller on the coffee table.

“You guess?” Donghyuck could see his Johnny’s forehead conjugate from the corner of his eyes.

“I haven’t been talking to her lately,” Donghyuck said, with an insouciant shrug, finally logging into his game profile.

“Shouldn’t you?” Johnny prods when Donghyuck doesn’t expand on his vague reply.

“Shouldn’t you mind your own business?” The television screen pauses and the leather of the couch stifles a groan as Johnny shifts himself to look at the younger boy. Johnny frowned at him. It’s not the response Donghyuck thought he would receive, rather something quick-witted and sharp-tongued for him to rebuttal. Until a sudden, unwanted realisation quickly washes over him of whom he was talking to or more accurately, who he wasn’t talking to. “I’ve just been busy lately,” the nonchalance in his voice receding.

Although he knows it wasn’t satisfactory enough of an answer and he is proved correct when Johnny begins, “The Donghyuck and Y/n I know used to have phone calls at 4am. You’ve both have never been too busy for one another.” Johnny noticed by the end of his sentence, Donghyuck’s entire expression dulled. His doe eyes saddened into sullen brown hues reminding, the older brother of the scene where Bambi loses his mother.

“Listen, I don’t want to go all big brother on you,” Johnny gently starts upon Donghyuck falling silent. “But should we talk about why you’re ignoring your best friend?”

“Because…” he mumbles, not sure if he can confide to his older brother about this or his feelings in general. Then, Johnny leans towards him, waiting for him to continue with gentle eyes and it’s enough to convince him. “Because,” he breathes. “I heard her mother tell mum she was thinking of moving back home because being the institute has been hard. I’m scared if I talk to her I’ll end up convincing her to come back home… To me.”

Johnny leans back into his spot, drawing out a ‘hmm’ through pursed lips. The younger doe-eyed boy awaits him like a patient when they just gave their symptoms to a doctor.

“Do you remember the first time you went to that drama camp for summer,” Johnny perks up.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck answers though, not completely sure why the summer camp he went to when he was nine could correlate to his medical evaluation.

“Do you remember the third night?”

“Kind of.”

“Well, you called mum in the middle of the night crying to go home,” recounts Johnny. “And do you remember why?”

“Because I didn’t know anyone and everyone else seemed better than me,” Haechan recalls in a small voice.

“But who reminded you that you were just as talented as the other kids?”

“Y/n.”

Clear memories flood through his mind so vividly. He remembers how he had woken up the camp supervisor and begged in fury of briny tears bursting from his bloodshot eyes, to call his mother. The first three days of drama camp were utterly terribly; all the other kids had their own friendship circles they formed when they were five and were all fiercely competitive for that lead role. It was the first time, Haechan had ever felt left out and doubted his own talent, he had always been the centre of everyone’s attention. And then, over his ferocious wails, he heard a familiar, squeaky little voice. He remembers, her softly coaxing him over the phone for almost an hour. Gently persuading him to stay at the drama camp because if anyone deserved the main role it was him and soon enough, no one would be able to resist his bright charm.

“This was the first summer you two had spent separated and you were y/n’s only friend at the time. Don’t you think she would have wanted to tell you to come back home… to her?” Johnny asks looking deep into Donghyuck’s eyes. “She’s always been your no. 1 supporter, from making your costumes, running lines with you, being the first one to celebrate when you get a role. It’s time for you to help her shine.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

An array of warm amber creaks from under the horizon. The Sun not quite ready, to come around like a young child on the swings who's been told it’s time to go home. It’s nearing dawn, close to early morning, you know because you can’t hear the whir of machinery yet, and the world is as silent as if it ended in the night. The moon, however, is gracefully returning to its depths as it unwinds less and less from the magical pearl and into a swindle of a luminous strand.

— flashback

Snip. Snip. Snip. A loose strand of blue thread drifted to the floor. You edged backwards from your full-length mirror to get a clearer view of yourself in the a-line dress. In the reflection, you observed the small, smile curve closer and closer to your hands cupping the side of your cheeks. It was exactly how you imagined in your head. An elegant, crystal blue dress, that flattered your body in classic lines with a lovely sweetheart neckline and flowed to just below your knees. A very girlish giggle bubbled from your mouth and rippled in your bedroom as you began to twirl in your beautiful, blue dress. The soft, satin swirled around you, its sheen twinkling the lights from the ceilings so magically. You would have kept spinning had you not have heard a car from outside your window, whom you assumed to be your best friend pulling into your driveway. Frantically, you spritzed an expensive floral perfume you brought a while ago but hadn’t worn since it smelled like your hard-earnt money draining from your pockets.

“Honey! Haechan is here,” your mother called from downstairs.

“Okay!” you yelled back, rushing over to collect your nude purse.

You inhaled a deep breath before taking your first step down the stairs. Second step. It wasn’t like you haven’t spent a night out with Haechan before. Fifth step. He has been your date to prom and formals every year, this wasn’t any different. Eleventh step. He wanted to ask out Soo-ah, you were the back-up plan. Thirteenth step. He was the most beautiful thing you have ever laid eyes on.

At the bottom of the flight of stairs awaited Haechan dressed in a black tuxedo with his hands clasped together in front of him. The white of his button-up shirt was crisp against his sunkissed, tanned skin. The bowtie sprouting from his collar had you shaking your head with a grin plastering itself across your face. He peered up you, with those big, brown doe eyes through his tousled, hazel locks framing his brows. His blissful gaze followed you down the last set of steps. You caught a glimpse of a tentative smile crept along his rosy lips as he caught onto what you were chuckling about. Until, you were distracted by your mother smiling, all too knowingly, from behind Donghyuck and you shooed her away.

“This is the first time I’m tied my own bowtie,” he confessed, scratching the back of his neck.

“I couldn’t tell.”

“Hey, for a first attempt this is pretty good,” he remarked, tilting his chin up as you began to loop the bow tie.

“Mhm. Keep telling yourself that, loser,” you smirked.

“Whatever, you ready to go, low-budget Cinderella?”

You heard your mother sigh in defeat from the kitchen.

“Hyuck are you sure we’re allowed to go back here right now?” you questioned in a hushed voice from behind Donghyuck, humming a tune to himself. Five minutes before you were naively following Haechan into the midst of the starry night, the invitation proposed by the sun-kissed boy to sneak off from the party to the gardens under the night sky sounded thrilling. As the sappy love songs blasting from the party slowly reduced to vibrations on the pavement, the straps of your stilettos began to pinch, dig and chafe against your heels and the thought of sitting down filled you with much more of a rush of exhilaration.

“We’re here,” Haechan announced, looking beyond and over his shoulder you saw it too.

A white gazebo was illuminated by veils of fairy lights, lit up like fireflies. A row white rose bushes encircled the gazebo, in their freshly trimmed glory. The gazebo stood virtuously against the painted black sky like some kind of answer.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Wonderstruck glittered in Y/n’s eyes. Haechan thought the sparkle in her eyes challenged the twinkling of the fairy lights wrapped around the gazebo, no the expanse of the night sky. Her celestial eyes shone so brightly, he found himself staring at her from aside in complete awe of her. He swore he never felt this way before. Feeling like he could lose himself in the constellation of someone’s eyes, let alone his best friend’s. A feeling so gradual like the morning sky, fading into the inky abyss of the night. Till it was washing over his body like tidal waves crashing into the stoic rocks on the shore. It drowned his lungs, weighed down his stomach and yet, he was floating all at once.

He didn’t allow the better judgment of his mind to dictate of his mind and would have refrained him from placing his hand in her delicates ones and escorting her into the gazebo.

“Haechan,” she whispered. The lustre beams poured gently over her and Haechan drank in the sight of an angel before him. Blue had never looked more ethereal, slipped onto her shoulders, peppering her body with soft, sensual kisses he longed to do in that very moment.

“Dance with me,” he breathes. “Dance with me.”

His hands found themselves around her waist and whisked her into the middle of the gazebo floor. A puff of wind swept through her silky hair, leaving him breathless.

“We can’t hear the music from here,” she giggled. It was soft, so soft. But the epiphany that his favourite song would soon be only a memory, sank his already hurting heart.

He slipped a hand into the back pocket of his trousers, revealing earphones and his phone. He doesn’t allow her to question him instead, he gently placed an earphone in her ear and his own ear and pressed play.

Her arms found home around his neck and they swayed in each other’s embrace to the melody quietly strumming in their ears. If it weren’t for her arms wrapped around him, he would have fallen apart. Falling deeper for those heavenly eyes was overwhelmingly crushing so he tucked his forehead onto hers and closed his eyes.

“Haechan, promise me something,” Y/n whispered against his chest. He hummed into her hair. “Promise me we’ll still be best friends. Promise me you’ll be my home. Promise me you’ll always be the centre of my universe. My FullSun.” How could he possibly deny her of her one request when he saw skies of stars copied into the softened swirl of the gaze, looking right up at him from under her thickly shadowed eyelashes.

“I promise.”

That night was the sweetest song, Haechan had ever heard. The humming of the black, the stars were a choir; they were lights that sang a symphony of infinite patterns. Then, the unexpected rain fell, cascading from the rim of the gazebo like a waterfall, as if gravity is soft music from the Earth, a sweet beckoning serenade. And they danced and danced in each other’s arms, slowly to the sweetest serenade gifted from the night sky.

— end of flashback

Your finger traces the trails of a desolate rain drop streaming down the chill window. The chorus of rain courses through your body in the gentlest way like nature was humming through your body. The moon had long departed, the Sun is hidden by matted wool of leaden clouds, and you hear your dormmates waking up in the rooms next to yours. As you close your eyes, you feel the heady pull of your dreams, beckoning you back into bed after your long night of solitude, talking to the moon. You turn begrudgingly to the light switch and flick it, immediately the room is immersed in that unnatural electric glow, and you find yourself absentmindedly staring at your phone sunk in the crumples of white sheets of your bed, waiting.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Haechan stares out his bedroom window. The earlier conversation with his older brother, Johnny, echoes in whispers at the back of his mind. His damp eyes follow a drop of rain trickling down his window pane and he can’t explain why it steadies his heart. Why the gentle pitter-patter soothes a calmness over his mind, like a soothing melody, a sweet serenade. Watching rain roll down the window, he spots in the reflection of the glass his cell phone laying on his bed.

Promises aren’t made to be broken.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

“Haechan?”

“It’s raining.”

“It’s raining here, too.”

#neowritingsnet #lee donghyuck #nct haechan #nct writings #nct fic #nct oneshots #nct angst #haechan oneshots #haechan scenarios #haechan imagines #haechan angst #haechan fluff #haechan fics #haechan x reader #haechan oneshot

786 notes · View notes

ad1thi · 4 years

Text

lose you to love me

more civil war! rhodeytoni can be found here and here. this fic has time jumps separated by a single slash. after every slash, a couple months have passed

you promised the world and I fell for it, i put you first and you adored it

The first thing she does when she comes back to the Tower is to trash their bedroom.

She pulls at the covers, yanks down the curtains- throws his books across the room onto the wall.

She uses her gauntlet to open their shared armoire with a satisfying crack, but she can’t bring herself to pull the clothes.

A flick of her wrist disables the gauntlet, and her bare fingers tickle the clothes. She’s still dirty from her visit in the hospital, so she grabs his biggest tshirt; one she’s seen stretched against his chest so many times- and signals for FRIDAY to turn on the shower.

The water hits her skin, and she wonders if it’ll wash away her soul.

The motions are mechanical, almost technical in nature.

She towel dries her hair, licks up lotion with her fingers and spreads in liberally against her skin; catching every bit of dry skin and feeling it smooth over.

She slips into a familiar of panties and then wears the tshirt; swinging this way and that to see how big it is on her.

Rhodey finds her on the couch, wearing a long cardigan on top of it; legs tucked under her.

“Is it wrong that I still love him?” she says and he presses his lips to her temple; letting her sink into his chest.

“Your heart is your biggest strength sweetheart,” Rhodey says, “and your greatest weakness”

i saw the signs and I ignored it, rose-colored glasses all distorted

“Colonel Rhodes,” FRIDAY starts hesitantly, and out of habit Rhodey looks up at the bedroom wall, “I have the King on the phone Sir”

“Which King?” Rhodey asks, even though there’s only one answer. The fingers resting on Toni’s waist tighten reflexively.

“The King of Wakanda sir,” FRIDAY says, “should I patch them through?”

do you want time to move Toni out of sight, she doesn’t say, but Rhodey just shakes his head.

“Put them through baby girl”

“Colonel,” T’Challa says, and then seems to realise where Rhodey is, “I apologise I didn’t realise I had called at such a bad time”

Silently, Rhodey signals for the screen to move ever so slightly up, so that Toni’s head on his lap was hidden from sight.

“I always have time for a King, T’Challa,” Rhodey says, “besides I’m still on Siberia time. I wasn’t sleeping anyway”

“Ah,” T’Challa says delicately, “I have a favour to ask Colonel - “

“James is fine,” Rhodey cuts in.

“- James,” T’Challa acquiesces, “I have a, lets call him a guest, who would like to speak to you urgently”

“Let me guess,” Rhodey says, “he’s barely restraining himself from interrupting you right now and is bobbing on the balls of his feet”

T’Challa looks at something beyond his screen, “That is surprisingly accurate. Does this mean you’ll talk to him?”

“Do I have a choice?” Rhodey says, but nods anyway.

A second later, Steve pops up on the screen. He looks older somehow, even though its only been a couple of months since Rhodey had seen him.

“Rhodey,” he says like he’s running a marathon, “how’ve you been?”

“I don’t have a lot of time Rogers,” he replies, “so how about we cut to the chase?”

Steve rubs the back of his neck, “I, uh, I saw on the news that Toni was hospitalised. I just wanted to ask what happened??”

“You happened,” he says- because frankly Rhodey’s tired of Steve’s bullshit, “you pushed your shield through her chest”

“No I -” Steve splutters, “I pushed it through the arc reactor, thats all I swear! I just wanted to turn off the suit!!”

“Let me explain this in small words for you Rogers, because this has somehow escaped you. There is nothing between Toni and the suit. There’s no buffer. So when you push against the suit, and the suit gives in- then you hit her chest”

“She’s got a mark Steve, a long line from her neck to her belly button; and it looks like the curve of your shield”

Steve staggers back like Rhodey shot him, but Rhodey’s beyond caring.

He lost all care when he saw Toni hooked up to machines on a hospital bed, because Steve Rogers put her there.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her Jim, you have to believe me,” Steve pleads, “is there - can I talk to her?”

“No,” on his lap, Toni shifts- but she doesn’t wake, “No. I made the mistake of letting you near her once, and I won’t make the mistake again”

He signals for FRIDAY to cut the connection, and runs his fingers through Toni’s hair.

In her sleep, she curls closer to him; leaning into his embrace like a cat.

we'd always go into it blindly, i needed to lose you to find me

She’s staring at a wall.

Well, she’s staring at a photo on the wall, but she might as well be staring at a wall.

Its a photo of her and Steve at Winter Wonderland, when she’d flown him out to London- just so he could experience it not war-torn.

He’s got his arms around her waist and his chin on her shoulder, and his nose is deliciously red.

She remembers the day well, she’d made the entirety of it calling him Rudolph and watching his face scrunch up in faux-irritation.

Toni never had the stomach for the rides, but Steve loved them- going on all of the twice.

“I threw up at Coney Island once, and I thought to myself- never again” he whispered in her ear as she huddled against his chest, “but now that I can, I’m not giving up the chance to go on rides ever again. That’s exhilarating”

“Adrenaline junkie,” she’d teased, nipping his cheek, “I clearly have a type”

She huffs, and reaches out- pulling the frame off the wall, and flipping it over.

She thumbs it open and slips out the photo; and pushes in the photo of her and Peter in its place.

She fits it back on the wall, adjusting the frame when it goes lopsided; and then steps back to look at the wall for a second.

“One down,” she murmers, “only 12 to go”

i needed to hate you to love me, yeah

The phone rings,

and rings,

until Rhodey and Toni can’t ignore it anymore, and they untangle so that Toni can reach for the phone on her bedside table.

“Rogers,” she says evenly- and he’s panting on the other side of the phone

“Antonia,” he whines, stretching out the syllables of her name, and she thinks oh he’s drunk.

“Rogers,” she says again, “was there something you needed?”

“Just you,” she can hear him slump onto what she assumes is a bed, “always you”

He whispers the last part like its a secret, which is a very accurate description of their relationship.

“You can’t have me,” she says fiercely into the phone, before slamming it down with a satisfying snap.

There’s silence in their bedroom, except for the slight rustle as Rhodey shifts closer to wrap himself around her.

“I’m not that mad that he sent me archaic tech anymore,” she says after a couple of moments, “can’t do that with the phones of today`’

“Snap it closed I mean,” Toni says- but most of her words get muffled because Rhodey just turns her into his chest, humming, “I always know what you mean babygirl”

tbc

this song just scREAMS civil war angst so enjoy

#my writing #civil war rhodeytony AU #ironhusbands #rhodeytony #stevetony #superhusbands #past stevetony #rhodeytony-centric #post civil war #lose you to love me #james rhodes #tony stark #fem! tony stark #rule 63 #why does toni hate rides??because I HATE RIDES OKAY i have a weak stomach #if you can't tell i have a lot of unresolved issues about this flip phone #also i make these fics established rhodeytony cuz idk i don't like the idea that tony gets with rhodey only cuz he leaves steve okay #rhodey isn't an option he's the first choice i want that to be clear

47 notes · View notes

captainmeowvelwrites · 4 years

Text

You Times Two (Ch.10)

Pairing: Marinette/Ladybug | Adrien/Chat Noir Words: 3950 Summary: Ladybug knew this was necessary. She was the Guardian. He had the Cat Miraculous. But when his suit evaporated in a glow of pale green, she sure hadn’t expected him to have something far more precious: her heart. Cross-posted: AO3 and FFN

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | ...

Recap: Previously, on You Times Two… Swagdrien showed off his killer dance moves, Marimoo considered tuning along to Sonata The Hedgehog's song, and everyone but Foxy Lady, Turtle Boy and Chilluka was a jealous wee bean. Upon seeing Golden Boy's apparent discomfort at Pastrami's hands-on approach to her envy, Maribug tripped mid-dance and busted her poor ankle. And of course, after a week of no akumas, Mr Perfect Timing's back at it again. What doth the author hast in store for thee?

---

Chapter Ten

The boings of Alya and Nino playing Super Penguino only somewhat muffled the soft and mellow strums of Luka’s guitar. It was a nice melody, Adrien wouldn’t deny. He’d thought the same thing a week ago, when they’d all sat by the Seine with André’s ice cream in hand.

But back then, he hadn’t known Luka had composed it just for Marinette. That it was supposedly her song.

How could he have known?

It was soft, but not nearly sweet enough. And laidback, rather than lively. And while it was pleasant, it lacked the passion befitting of his friend.

Her passion for sewing.

Her passion for helping others.

Her passion for standing up for what she believed in.

Adrien watched as she drew out a breath from her freckle-dusted nose, as her pink lips curved into an easy smile, as her bluebell eyes fluttered shut. Her elbow brushed his own as she tipped her head against Luka’s shoulder.

He felt pressure on his hand—a reminder that he still held Kagami’s. His eyes met hers, and the question that clouded her gaze was enough to spark surprise in his own. Someone had squeezed the other’s hand, but that someone hadn’t been her—

A gasp stole his attention. “Dudes!” Nino’s left hand clutched half of Alya’s iPad, while his right jabbed toward the TV. “Check out the news!”

Adrien did just that.

And sucked in a breath at the sight he beheld.

The concerned face of Nadja Chamack filled the screen. Live footage appeared of an offensively coloured tower that soared into the sky, its abstract surface jarring against the bygone architecture of the buildings around it.

Adrien knew the area. At least five minutes away by baton.

Alya lunged at the coffee table. “Unmute!” she screamed, snatching up the remote with a crazed look in her eye. One fierce jab of her finger—

“—in Montparnasse, where a new villain is turning Paris into an abstract nightmare!”

The screen flicked to a series of clips. Fleeing Parisians. Multicoloured beams. Anything they touched – people, buildings, buses, pigeons – transformed into an eye-achingly colourful and contorted version of its former self.

“As always, authorities advise all Parisians to stay indoors until Ladybug and Chat—”

Zap!

Colour swarmed across Nadja’s body. Her lips swelled. Her nose went freakishly thin. Her left eye bulged and climbed a good three inches up her face. And although her body was off screen, Adrien had a sneaking suspicion it looked just as ill-proportioned. With a gasp, she stumbled out of frame.

A figure dropped from the sky, his body as obnoxiously bright as the tower that loomed behind him. He skulked toward the screen, a sneer scrunching the enormous, triangular nostrils on his severely misshapen face. “I am Putricasso!” The footage faltered at the hands of an unseen cameraman. “And soon, all of Paris will be as breath-taking as Picasso’s fine creations!”

With narrow eyes, Putricasso aimed an oversized paint brush at the screen.

The TV went static.

Adrien’s knee bobbed. Their first akuma in a week. Of course, it had to happen mid-group gathering. His eyes zipped around the apartment. He needed an excuse—

Marinette flew to her feet. “Actually—” A wince warped her face as she reeled back onto the sofa, hunched forward with her hand around her ankle. “I’ve – uh – changed my mind.” She stood again, this time slowly and with greater success. “I should definitely see a doctor. Just in case.”

He sprung up beside her. “I’ll take you!”

“NO!”

By the sheer desperation in her voice, one might’ve thought he was dragging her into danger right along with him.

“I mean YES!” She slapped her hands together. “Take me now!” Her eyes flew wide. “To the doctors! Take me now to the doctors. Please.” He didn’t miss her limp as she looked between Nino, Kagami and Luka, an apologetic smile at the ready. Her eyes lingered on Luka especially.

Alya was too busy frantically tapping her phone screen to pay them all any mind.

“Sorry I couldn’t stay longer, guys.” Marinette’s fingers drummed against her pink, flowery clutch. “Injury aside, it’s been fun!” She was already hobbling toward the front door.

Adrien scooped his grey messenger bag off the floor, threw it over one shoulder, and turned to Kagami. He was met by a question:

“Can I come along?”

His shoulders shot to his ears. “Err – No need, Kagami! I’ll, uh, be quick.”

Her gaze swerved to Marinette, then back to him. “Okay.”

“Hey, Marinette?” Luka’s voice drew Adrien’s focus. “Are we still on for tomorrow?” The musician smiled at her from the sofa, guitar propped in his lap.

She was halfway to the exit, but stopped to beam at him all the same. “Of course! No way am I letting my clumsiness ruin our movie date.” For the second time today, she winked at Luka.

Adrien’s smile felt forced.

Until her attention turned to him.

“Ready, Adrien?”

He nodded and, after a brief farewell to his friends, rushed to her side. “Let’s go.”

As she continued to limp toward the exit, he identified a glaring flaw in his escape plan. He needed time to take her to the doctor’s. And time was something he had none of right now.

…

Crap.

Adrien could think of several reasons as to why he couldn’t ditch her.

Reason one? It’d be a terrible thing to do.

Reason two? It’d be awfully suspicious after offering to take her in the first place.

Reason three? She really did need his help.

But damn it, so did Ladybug. And all of Paris for that matter. Maybe he could speed things up somehow—

“Hold the fort, Nino!” Alya, who Adrien was sure had been on the sofa just a second ago, flashed by them in a blur of orange and blue. “Your girl’s gotta bounce!”

“Babe?!” Nino sputtered from his seat. “You’ve – You’ve got guests!”

Alya swung the front door aside, revealing a public stairwell of wooden steps and copper railing. “Montparnasse is, like, a twenty-minute metro away. If I jet now, I might make the end of the battle!” She threw Marinette a one-handed finger gun. “Rest that foot up, girl!” And with that, she was off.

Marinette frowned at the front door, still ajar. “I swear she has no sense of self preservation.”

“With Ladybug protecting Paris, at least we know she’s in safe hands.”

She met his smile with one of her own. “You mean Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

His lips parted, a merry “thank you” at the ready, until he realised that’d be a pretty odd response from Adrien Agreste. “You’re right,” he said instead, following her through the front door. “I’ll be back soon, everyone!” (He hoped.)

While he clicked the door shut behind him, Marinette limped up to the first set of steps in their way. With her fingers around the handrail, she put her right foot forward, gauging her weight on step number one as though testing the temperature of a swimming pool.

Hold up.

Did she plan to scale these stairs on her own?

He stepped forward. “If you’d like, I can—”

“No.” Her answer was short, but not impolite. More like she was on a mission. “I’ve got this.”

“You sure?”

The front of her ballerina flat touched the first step. Seeming satisfied with the level of pain, she ventured forward.

“Yeah, I’m—”

Her ankle buckled.

He lunged after her.

One hand clutched the curve of her waist.

The other gripped her shoulder.

“—totally in need of a little assistance.”

A little giggle followed her words and he couldn’t help but smile. He levelled her onto her feet. “Say no more.” Knees bent, he eased one hand across her back, while his other reached down to loop behind her legs.

A thought made him pop back to full height.

Was it socially acceptable to carry her bridal-style?

“Err – With your permission?”

The question hung in the air. And was it a trick of the light? Or were her cheeks a little rosier than usual? Maybe he needed an ice breaker. The kind of comment she’d expect from Chat Noir. He’d carried her bridal style on more than one occasion.

“No altars, I promise.”

“I – I – Uh—”

Mistakes were made.

Her eyes darted every which way. None of those ways crossed paths with his own. And— Oh no! Her cheeks were definitely rosy now. Had he just made her more uncomfortable?

“Sure,” she squeaked, much like the sound that had inspired the nickname ‘Marimouse’ last night. “Fine. Totally fine. Like, one hundred percent A-OK.” She placed her right hand across the nape of his neck, emphasising her words.

With a quiet sigh of relief, Adrien lifted her from the stairs into his arms, and her left hand slid behind his neck to join her right. He hadn’t started out his day expecting to sweep a cute girl off her feet, but here he was. That joke rode the tip of his tongue, barely withheld, because jeez, his last attempt at ice breaking had gone just splendidly.

As he began their descent down the stairs, Marinette spoke up again. “Sorry if I’m heavy...”

He almost laughed.

That hadn’t even crossed his mind.

His thoughts drifted a day into the past, to the puns they’d cracked in her kitchen. “Must’ve been the cheesecake. I’d batter be extra careful while carrying you down these stairs!”

Eager for her reaction, his eyes flicked from the steps to her face. She didn’t disappoint.

No, she rolled her eyes.

He smirked in record time.

“I swear you’re like a walking punpedia.”

“You’re meant to egg me on, Marinette. Have I tarte you nothing?”

Banana puns. Baking puns. He was on a roll today. Punning against an artsy villain would be a piece of cake.

“Gosh, I pun with you once and suddenly, we’re pun buddies.”

Had his hands not been preoccupied, Adrien would’ve placed one to his heart. “Why, I hope you’re not planning to dessert me?” This time, she groaned, but he didn’t miss the slight upward tilt of her lips. “Because that would mousse definitely make me sad.”

With a shake of her head, she finally cracked a smile. Briefly, he wished he didn’t have to watch where he was going, so he could freely enjoy the fruits of his labours.

A few seconds ticked by, the thumps of his shoes against wood filling the silence. He reached a stair landing, strode by two doors, then continued down another set of steps.

Marinette sighed. “I feel kinda bad about leaving early.”

Adrien’s brows curled. If either of them should feel bad right now, it was him. He’d invited Kagami, after all, and here he was leaving her despite knowing she wasn’t at ease around acquaintances.

“Don’t feel bad, Marinette. Your health comes first. Any one of our friends would say the same.”

She was silent.

But one glance at her face revealed lips pursed by thought.

“Is this about leaving Luka?”

From the corner of his eye, Marinette nodded. “I just feel so lame for ditching him.”

Adrien shrugged. Well, as much as he could with her in his arms. “I’m sure he understands. I know I would if I was in his shoes.”

A quiet pause.

“You’re right.”

Adrien didn’t need to peel his eyes from the steps to know she was smiling. “So, uhh”—he cleared his throat—“did he really compose that song just for you?”

Another nod on her end.

“That’s pretty cool.” Even if it didn’t suit her as well as it could’ve. “Maybe I should compose a song for you,” he thought aloud, already sifting through piano pieces he knew for inspiration. Something bright. Strong. Resilient. Joyful! Playing it needed to make him as happy as being around her did.

“I, um… I should probably text my parents.” Her left hand dropped from his neck to pull a smart phone from the front pocket of her pants. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to take me to the doctors, so you don’t have to.”

“Oh. Well, I…” It sure made transforming easier, but he still had to ask, “If that’s not too much trouble?”

With a shake of her head, Marinette held her phone near his shoulder. “‘Course not.” It clicked as she typed. “And this way you don’t have to leave everyone.”

Little did she know.

While Marinette tucked away her phone, he scaled the last of the steps and approached a wooden door, its surface scuffed from years of use. “Could you—”

Sure enough, she was already reaching for the brass knob.

They exchanged a smile as he planted his back to the door and reversed his way into an open-air corridor. “Nice work, team.”

That got a giggle out of her.

With Marinette still in his arms, Adrien strode by rows of beige mailboxes, a letter half hanging from one of the slots. She extended a hand and pushed it the rest of the way in.

“In case it’s something important.”

“Very typical of you,” he said with a wink.

Her eyes fell to her lap, but not before she smiled.

As they approached an iron gate, he recalled her earlier advice that it was never actually locked, and coaxed it open with his back. The street was fairly quiet. A few pigeons. A couple of motoring cars. And an old lady walking her sausage dog.

He glanced back at the entrance corridor beyond the iron gate. It’d make a good transformation spot. Well, as long as Marinette didn’t see him race inside, only for Chat Noir to leave a second later.

With that in mind, Adrien rounded a nearby corner to be met by an equally quiet street. Bending his knees, he set her down on the sidewalk and placed his hands on her shoulders, ready to catch her at a moment’s notice. “You okay to stand, Marinette?”

Her answer, as it turned out, was to press her petite fingers flush against his chest.

A second later, he froze as she slapped her hands to her face. “Sorry!” She peeked up at him from through her fingers. “I – Uh – The designer in me! She felt bad for creasing your dress shirt!”

That made sense.

Adrien placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Marinette. I’m a fashion model, remember? Unannounced crease correcting comes with the territory.” He chuckled. “Besides, I prefer you doing it as opposed to some stranger.” After two light pats on her shoulder, his hand returned to his side, and his fingers drummed against his thighs. “So, err…” As much as he needed to scat, leaving her alone felt a little impolite. “I can keep you company until your parents get here?”

Marinette toyed with the hem of her cardigan. “That’s, uh, awfully nice of you, Adrien, but there’s really no need.” She tapped her fingers together as she peered up at him. “I – I mean, not that I don’t want your company. Your company’s great. You just… umm… probably wanna get back to everyone else, right?”

Well, not exactly.

He slipped a hand behind his neck. “Are you sure, Marinette?”

“Adrien.” The boldness of her tone alone made him still. “Gateau of here.”

Did…

Did she just…

The smile that swept across her lips was answer enough. Man, she was awesome!

“How can I say dough to that?” With a broad grin, he took two steps back the way they came. “Take it easy on that ankle, okay?”

“Uh – Yeah! Will do.”

“And I guess I’ll… see you Monday?”

“Yup. Monday! That’s when you’ll next be seeing me.”

“Great. See you then!”

With a two-fingered salute, he ducked around the corner and backtracked through the gate, rows of mailboxes affixed to the wall on his right.

Plagg zipped out of his messenger bag. “Finally!” By the way he snickered, he wasn’t really bothered. “Parting with your girlfriend is such sweet sorrow, hmm?”

Nope. Definitely not bothered.

“You said the same thing yesterday, Plagg.” He fiddled with the cuff of his dress shirt. “You know she’s just a friend.”

His kwami floated closer. “Don’t you mean a pun buddy?”

Adrien gave a wry smile. “Speaking of which”—he launched out his fist—“Plagg, claws out!”

In a flash of blinding green, Chat Noir stood where Adrien Agreste once had. He approached the gate, scanned the street for any onlookers, then raced out onto the sidewalk.

One tap of his baton launched him heavenward—and with a highly essential flip, he dropped to a nearby rooftop. In the distant cityscape, Montparnasse Tower stood like a sky-high circus.

“Good thing I’m wearing my clown costume.” He tapped the glowing paw on his staff, revealing its screen. “No messages from M’Lady? Well colour me shocked.”

A few taps brought up the latest akuma update. No heroes on the scene yet. He glanced at his Bugabeacon. By the looks of it, she hadn’t transformed yet. Seemed he wasn’t the only one running fashionably late.

Chat gripped his staff tighter.

This was their first battle since his reveal.

Ladybug’s first battle with Adri—

No.

Her second battle with Adrien.

And an agonising reminder of his desire to prove himself.

Sure, Chat Noir had done so for over a year, but he wasn’t just Chat Noir anymore. No, he was also Adrien Agreste, who’d failed to save her as Aspik for three months straight. Adrien Agreste, whose nightmares had been haunted by Desperada ever since. Adrien Agreste, who longed for redemption.

And today was his chance.

---

Marinette tottered into a nearby alleyway and propped her back against a weather-worn wall. Two painkillers, a dollop of anti-inflammatory cream and twenty minutes of ice-pack time, yet somehow her ankle throbbed more now than it had right after her fall.

Tikki whizzed out of her pink clutch, concern swimming in her eyes.

“Our first akuma in a week and I’ll be spending it stumbling through Paris.” Marinette pushed off the wall to test out the injury. A little weight was wince-worthy, but bearable. Anything more active was another story. “Will my transformation do anything to ease the pain?”

Her kwami shook her head. “I’m sorry, Marinette! Injuries you get while de-transformed are out of my control. You’ll just have to be extra careful.”

So it looked like she’d have to keep anything too jarring to a minimum. Well, try to. Running and jumping were kind of necessary when it came to yoyo swinging and dodging dangerous projectiles.

“I’ll have to fight through the pain.” She shifted her weight to her good ankle. “At least it’s just a sprain. Or there’s no way I’d be standing.”

Five storeys up, a blur of black leapt over the alley.

Tikki frowned. “What about Chat Noir?”

A touch of dread rematerialized, gripping her chest as it had upstairs. She’d thought – well, maybe freaked out – about that on the way down. Though observing Adrien’s own ditch attempt had been a welcome distraction. And a fascinating one at that.

“He saw me walking fine during patrol last night.” She cupped her chin. “It’ll be hard to come up with a believable excuse, but...”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Marinette nodded. “I have to.” Purpose hardened her eyes. “Tikki, spots on!”

Latex washed up her body in a glow of pale pink. Immediately, Ladybug reassessed her ankle, hoping for a miracle.

Alas, Lady Luck couldn’t solve everything.

She flicked up the screen of her yoyo. According to her Kitty Tracker, Chat Noir was already five blocks ahead of her. “He’s really hightailing it over there,” she thought aloud, and hurled her yoyo at the rim of the roof above. One tug sent her skyward.

Her toes touched down.

Her ankle caved.

Her knees slammed against the roof.

Ladybug groaned. “Focus!” The second time in a week she’d said that very thing. She’d let down her friends, her master, all of Paris. She refused to be that useless today.

Never again.

Ladybug hoisted herself to her feet and stared out at the Parisian skyline. Montparnasse Tower reached for the clouds like a multicoloured beacon. It’d already been about ten minutes since that footage had aired. She needed to get there fast.

But how could she do that with a busted ankle?

The Horse Miraculous wasn’t an option. The Miracle Box was stowed away in Master Fu’s old phonograph, atop the chest that housed Adrien’s many birthday gifts. Getting home would take almost as long as stumbling to Montparnasse.

A lightbulb went off in her head.

What if she embraced her inner Spider-Man? Swing more. Land less. Rest her ankle on the way there. Yeah, that could work. It’d be better than pushing her ankle before she’d even engaged Putricasso.

With her mind made up, she hurled her yoyo at a distant chimney. And as she spideyed her way over to Montparnasse, a month-old memory replayed in her mind.

The sinking sun set the sky ablaze, splashing the Arc de Triomphe with its golden glow. Her legs swayed off the ledge of the aged monument in time with Chat Noir’s, while cars hummed underfoot.

“Hey, LB?” He grinned at her, the tiny straw of a juice box brushing his lips. “Has it ever occurred to you that you’re like a female Spider-Man?”

“Y’know, my friends were discussing that very thing this week.”

“Ha! Mine too.” He took a hearty sip. “It makes sense, right? You’re both bug-themed. You wear lots of red. You swing around the city.”

“So if my comic counterpart’s Spider-Man, who’s yours?”

Chat puffed out his chest. “I am Batman,” he rasped, his voice an octave lower.

She snorted. “I was thinking more along the lines of Cat Woman.”

With a pout, he passed the juice box to her awaiting hand. “Why not Black Panther?”

“Who?”

“Wow, M’Lady!” He slapped a dramatic paw to his heart. “That hurts my very soul!”

Through a smile, Ladybug took a small sip of juice. “Well,” she eventually said, “I think Chat Noir’s a much cooler superhero anyway.”

The smile he flashed her could’ve powered all of Europe.

Then he opened his mouth.

“Does this mean I can’t call you Spider-Woman?”

Ladybug couldn’t help but laugh as she soared through the autumn air. She considered telling him their silly talk had come in handy. Maybe she’d even let him call her Paris’ friendly neighbourhood ladybug. He’d get a kick out of that for sure.

Up ahead, Montparnasse Tower was a fast-approaching eyesore—and a reminder that she still needed a reason for her injury. One scan of the area drew her attention to an ice rink. A very familiar ice rink. An excuse bloomed in her brain. A skating accident. One she’d suffered from first thing this morning. It wasn’t her finest cover-up, but her choices were gut-churningly limited. If ever there was a day for her luck to shine through, today was it.

With each street she swung through, the beige brickwork and timeworn buildings of Paris evolved into a mess of colourful shapes. Rooms stuck out at odd angles, far from structurally sound. Flying pigeons defied the laws of aerodynamics, their wings branching from their bodies like two featherless triangles. And Parisians panicked in the streets, their faces distorted and their bodies a jumbled state of jagged shapes. If a unicorn caught a stomach bug, she imagined the aftermath would look a lot like this.

A multicoloured beam sliced through the sky—just past Montparnasse Cemetery, where an expanse of tombstones dotted the land. More beams burst from between a distant street and with narrowed eyes, she veered toward them.

#ml fic #miraculous ladybug #you times two #adrinette #marichat #ladynoir #ladrien

2 notes · View notes

geeky-introvert · 5 years

Text

Prey . Dark Ubbe X OC

Summary: During a raid a woman tries to escape from a Heathen in the night of the forest. It was a game of cat and mouse….One-shot.

Word count: 2747

Warning: Non-con, triggering and all dark Ubbe taking what he desires.

Tag List: @lisinfleur @mdlady @didiintheblog @alicedopey @lupy22 @rekdreams247 @mblaqgi @oddsnendsfanfics @aphnxrising @happydaysandersen @therealcalicali @naaladareia @inforapound @captstefanbrandt @waiting4inspiration @tabalugax @p8tn0lish

If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list let me know please.

The rumbling thunder surrounded the village. The storm wasn't a big one as everyone had predicted so not a lot of worry was made over it. The rain wasn't heavy either, only a soft shower sprinkling over every garden and grass to consume. It was supposed to be a peaceful night.

Gwen was wrapped up in her furs, gaining the warmth and comfort with the sounds of the rain outside filling her dreams. It was a peaceful lullaby. This was disturbed when a heavy rumble shook the home and she was still half asleep.

It was nothing, she had told herself this and went to go back to her deep slumber. Another noise broke out through the night and it sounded rather different.

It didn't come from the storm.

She stirred in her sleep again. Scrunching her eyes she rolled onto her other side. There it was again, a faint thump of timber hitting together. She sat up from her bed and rubbed her eyes feeling an overwhelming swell of tiredness sweeping over her.

Lighting her candle she carried it in her hand with her feet padding out of her room and towards to source of the sound. It led her to the kitchen where she saw she had forgotten to lock a window. Sighing heavily she closed it shut and locked it.

As she did this she noticed a few lights from outside in the distance. She wondered about seeing it and couldn't help but stare out more to see who would be up at the late hour and would go out in the middle of the night in a storm.

Her thoughts were shaken away when the sound of glass shattering was heard from a home not far from her. Then, a piercing scream filled the village Heathen’s.

Gwen realised what was happening. She didn’t think about anything else as she blew out her candle and dashed out her back door. There was no time to grab anything, not that she had anything of value, but she didn't change her clothes, grab a coat or anything.

She ran and hopped over stone hedges while holding her skirts up to make it easier to move. Her nightgown is soaked in under a minute. The rain was no help as her feet sloshed through the mud almost making her trip a few times. Looking ahead of her she saw others were trying to escape as well into the forest in hopes of losing sight of the heathen’s. It was her only chance as well.

With the storm, rain, screaming and homes being torn apart, she can’t think of anything else and soon found herself in the thicket of the forest, others not far apart from her as they try to find a hiding spot.

Some climbed trees to the top, others tried to find caves, while many more kept on running thinking they'd get far enough to escape. She took the last choice since she is already doing it and can’t think about anything else other than running.

The sound of approaching loud steps was heard through the thunder. They were getting closer. Others that were too slow let out screams as they were cut down by blades or kept alive as slaves.

Their screams and pleads were ignored.

She could feel her legs starting to feel like jelly and a throbbing ache pinches at her calves and thighs. She didn’t give up though. She forced herself to keep running and lifted her soaked skirts up higher, pushing all her remaining strength she has left. Soon she found herself in lead of the chase, and alone. With the darkness of the forest it was difficult to see much other than the shrubs that smacked into her face, and then her foot got caught in a root forcing her to fall face first into the icky mud and leaves. Her body felt numb but that doesn’t stop her from slowly moving onto her hands and knees and weakly crawl her way forward.

Suddenly a boot came down on top of her back and pushed her into the earth ground. A painful cry left her lips at the sudden loss of air and can’t prevent the chocked sob too. She was caught.

"The more you struggle, the worse you're making it for yourself."

The harsh gruff voice spoke above her. It sounded so foreign. A thick accent that sent chills down her spin, and didn’t even realise they spoke in her language at first. She was too scared to move and remained where she was with her cheek pressed against the mud and silent tears leaving her eyes.

The boot was lifted and she felt a rough hand gripping in her hair and lifted her up. She cried out at the harsh treatment and she felt her scalp burn like her head is on fire. She was then faced by her captor.

In the poor lighting she somehow managed to see the heathen breathing down on her. His frightening dark figure only caused her to whimper more, petrified of the stranger and felt more warm tears streaming down her cheeks with the rain. Ubbe looked down at the trembling woman with a satisfied grin.

He lifted the fire touch he carried to her face. The sudden brightness and heat radiating from the flame caused her to close her eyes tightly and lower her head away.

“You’re very beautiful.” He chuckled lightly as he forced her to look up at him.

She saw the blood dripped from his face, a couple landing on her, causing her to try and break away from the demon that had a hold on her.

The rain had wet her wrists enough for her to slip out of his hold but fell back onto the mushy earth. Ubbe grinned at her weak attempts and tossed his fire touch aside and gripped the axe tightly in his palms as he slowly advanced towards her.

“N-no please! Pleasepleaseplease, don’t kill me!” She tried crawling back away from the approaching heathen with weak attempts. Her body was too tired to move.

He wasn’t going to kill her. She was too pretty.

With rough hands he picked up the screaming woman and had her over his shoulder, ignoring her punches against her back and carried her back to their camp. At some point Gwen had passed out.

When she regained conscious she found herself lying on a pile of furs inside a tent. Voices could be heard from outside, shouted orders and shuffling feet against the wet mud.

She went to move only to discover both her wrists and ankles were bound together and a she felt herself panic as she desperately struggled against the rope by yanking at them in hopes of getting free.

"Don't even bother trying," The familiar voice made her squeak out in fright and she looks at her captor.

Her puffy red eyes stared at the frightening man who stood at the flaps of the tent. Everything about him looked terrifying. She tried scooting back on the furs when he strolls over to her. She whimpered weakly and hid her face in her lap in hopes for some sort of protection.

“You can’t hide from me.” His words made her jump out of her trembling skin. His rough hands grip into her hair again and yanked back, earning a pained broken sob from her.

“I don’t like to be ignored. You will answer to me, understood?”

“Y-yes…” Her sore eyes plead to him for no more pain he was currently giving her with his fist in her hair.

“Word of advice, behave, you’ll survive longer.” He meant it.

She only managed to nod weakly and felt like she could breathe again once her hair was released.

“Why am I here?” She asked weakly.

His devilish smirk didn’t settle well for her. He disappeared behind her and she didn’t dare to look, she only sat where she was until he returned into her view. His shirt was off and was in the process of tugging off his trousers.

Her heart hammered painfully as she saw the heathen stand naked before her, heavy pants left her out of fear and squirmed back when he started to slowly advance towards her.

His body crawled over her own, like a predator over its prey. She saw a dagger flash in his hands and she started to panic more by squirming under him like a wiggling worm. He rolled his eyes and took hold of her ankles, cutting the rope away and at her wrists. He had cut a little at her skin and he sucked at the dripping blood with a satisfied hum.

She couldn’t move.

He was so close now that his face was only a few inches away from her nose, enough to smell his musky scent and tried turning away from his exposed figure while he continued to hold her wrists.

As soon as she tried move he pinned her down under him against the furs. The position was very inappropriate and she didn’t want to become his toy. The very thought of the heathen forcing himself on her made her cry out of fear and struggled more helplessly under him.

“Woman,” his huskily vice was like velvet and it was very distracting, “you should consider yourself lucky. Right now I’m giving you the privilege of having you in my tent and on my furs.

Anyone else would’ve just fucked you out in the mud, just like most of the women. I know in your mind you don’t want this, but I’ll make you change your mind, eventually you’ll understand the rights of being a slave.”

“I’m not a slave!” She yelled out without thinking.

“That’s what they all say at first, but eventually they accept the new life, just like you will.” He grinned and descended down towards her while having both her wrists pinned above her head.

Gwen tried kicking at him but only managed to frail her legs in the air around him. Her strength was nothing compared to his that she knew, but that didn’t mean she was going to let the heathen defile her without a fight. At least that was what she tried doing.

His mouth kissed at her neck, suckling hard and grinding his already hard cock at her skirts. She started to cry, whimpering as she felt trapped and at the mercy of him.

With one hand he held her pinned, and with his other tore open the front of her dress, ripping the fabric and exposing her breasts. She gave an angry cry and felt him chuckle heavily above her before she felt his lips at one of her nipples, suckling hard and humming lowly around the sensitive area.

“Please stop!” She couldn’t help it, she was terrified.

“This is going to happen, willing or not.” He went to tie her wrists up again feeling frustrate already and she panicked even more when she saw this happening.

“N-nonono, p-please don’t tie me up!” She stopped her struggling to try and show she won’t do anything. By god she didn’t want it, but being tied up was only worse. “I-I’ll be good….”

He looked at her with a raised brow. “Are you sure?” She only managed to nod her head in yes. “Stop you’re wriggling then.” The threat was there but not physical.

She wanted to claw his eyes out, stab his dagger at him repeatedly, cut his dick off and shove it down his throat. But reality she knew she couldn’t do that, it was just how much she hated him for what he was about to do and change her life for ever.

Ubbe smiled when he saw her slowly giving up, watching as she breathed heavily and quiet tears streamed down her face.

“I might keep you, but that depends on you. As long as you do as I say and behave I promise no harm will come to you. You’ll be a slave to a prince, a huge honour. Think about that.”

His hand moved her legs more part and he settled himself against her warmth, humming when his cock brushed up against her folds making her jump out of fright at the contact. She wasn’t wet enough, so he carelessly spat in his hand and touched her sex, rubbing along her folds and probing her tight entrance.

She cried harder when she felt his finger insert in her core, worming around and curling against her. It hurt, and she felt disgusted at the heathen for touching her like he was.

It only scared her more when she felt herself growing wet from his probing. He saw this and smirked seeing her body react to his touches.

“Your mind may deny it, but your body won’t.” He leaned down to her ear. “Tell me your name.”

“Gwen.” She couldn’t help but whimper her name.

“I’m Ubbe.”

After hearing his name, she felt his finger move away, but it was quickly replace by his cock that pushed up against her, resisting to allow him entrance or to take her virtue.

“The more you resit, the more it will hurt.” His warning was the only one he needed to give.

She relaxed, at least she tried. He embraced her against him as he tried thrusting his cock in her all the way, ignoring her pained cries, right before he fully thrust his whole cock in her and groaned loudly at her surrounding tightness.

“It hurts, it hurts,” she cried softly crawling at his chest. “P-please stop….” He didn’t listen, and only moved his cock with gentle motions, grunting at time he moved back in her.

She should be grateful, this he told himself. In time she’ll learn to accept it. His cock thrust back and forth in her with his chest pressed against her breasts, and moved against her into the furs. He heard her pained whimpers but was determined to turn them into pleasured moans.

Gwen felt herself growing used to his cock and shut her eyes tightly, praying to her god for this to be over soon, but instead she was given something else, which was the forbidden pleasure that rose at her core surrounding his dick.

“Oh fuck,” he moved fast against her as he felt his throbbing cock twitch within her depths. He started to whisper in his own tongue then, leaving her out of everything he was saying as he fucked her.

She winced at the sharp pain she felt as he moved faster against her, his beast like grunts erupted in her ear as she shook under his rutting body. Her mind screamed as she felt her orgasm erupt through her, her voice let out an unexpected moan that only made her hate herself more for reacting like that. He kept going, pulled her legs around him and gave move violent thrusts before he stilled and groaned out as his seed spilled in her.

She felt disgusted at the feeling of his semen coating her, and the thought of getting pregnant imprinted her mind.

Ubbe laid his weight over her, breathing heavily as he caught his breathe before he moved off from her and lay on his furs. He saw from the corner of his eyes she turned away from him and smirked at her weak attempts.

He faced her back and whispered into her ear. “You’re mine now.” Kissing against her cheek tenderly, or mocking, whatever it was she didn’t know. Gwen didn’t say anything or do anything.

Her body felt broken, shattered in a million pieces and no one would help her put her back together. She felt the heathen behind her scoot off the furs and wondered around the tent, washing and dressing himself before he got himself something to eat.

She didn’t move. She didn’t blink. She didn’t want to breathe.

She was prey, and he ravaged her to ruins.

#vikings #ubbe #ubbe x reader #ubbe x oc #dark ubbe #fanfiction #fandom #non-con #smut #triggering #ubbe imagine

119 notes · View notes