#the peace sign after the interviewer asked him to do the finger...

[youjustwaitsunshine]

hes sooooo babygirl

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 13

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 13: Lunacy Fringe

Chapter Summary: You and Dieter spend the day at the beach.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 9.2k+

Content / Warnings: alternating pov, grief, heart-to-heart, fluff, angst, smut, swearing, blood, cannabis use, cliffhanger, public sex, poverty mention, infertility mention near-death experiences, unprotected piv sex, ocean

Notes: Chapter title from “Lunacy Fringe” by The Used. Hmmmm let’s see. Idk if you know this, but I am employed now after like 16 months being a full-time student and SAHM, so I’m in a bit of an ~ adjustment ~ period and might take a bit longer to post things, but time will tell lol. This is a very soft chapter, I hope you like it. Let me know what ya think 🖤✨

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Despite your initial trepidation in doing the DIRT interview, and how disastrous it actually wound up being, Darlene reported to you and Dieter that public feedback has been generally positive. As all three of you expected, some of his fans have labeled you a gold digger, conwoman, or flavor of the week, but most find your story a sympathetic one and seem to be supportive. 

The news has saturated the past five days in a warmth and brightness you’ve never encountered before in your life. 

You and Dieter have been painting and writing and laughing and cooking and fucking and falling asleep tangled up in each other and waking up stuck together by sweat. Luxuriating in something neither of you could afford before: quality time. 

Today is no exception, with the two of you under the white down duvet tent, all glowing from morning sun pouring in through the skylight onto his bed.

It smells like him here, of course, but it also smells like you. Your scent has seeped into the threading of his sheets, commingling with his. Like you’ve claimed your spot here with him and now it’s something different, something shared and sacred. 

Meaning that it now smells like you, in the collective sense, and find any excuse to bask in it as long as you can. 

The pads of Dieter’s fingers trail along the shiny scar tissue that laces your leg, your hip, your arm. All those swaths of skin once split open, he traces them with reverence, his touch delicate and studious. Content to memorize you as long as you’ll let him. 

You count the gray hairs sprouting in his beard and at his temples. The wrinkles that crease his forehead and eyes. Signs of age you feel blessed to encounter. 

You think about how the two of you were rejected from the afterlife, from the omnipresent belonging, the sea of love, back into these vessels. 

“What was it like when you died?” you ask him, bringing your touch to that hairless heart-shaped spot at his jawline, “Like, what did you see?” 

“I, umm,” he clears the sleep from his throat, then says, “I remember feeling tired. So fucking tired. This crazy heavy fatigue took over, like—like someone put the world’s heaviest weighted blanket on me, and I tried to stay awake but I just fucking couldn’t. When I woke, I was floating above my body. Saw them all trying to revive me. Then it was like… I was sucked up into this tunnel.”

“The tunnel,” you grin, “That tunnel was fucking awesome.”

He chuckles, “It really was. It was like… I’ve never felt more at peace. Fucking wild,” he shakes his head and frowns, “I saw all these scenes from my life. Growing up, living in New York, getting my first real gig, moving to LA, all that. I got to that barrier, you know,” he glances at you and you nod knowingly. 

“I was right there, I touched it, and I knew that was it but I wasn’t scared. Then Annie shot the adrenaline, and I was getting sucked back, and,” his eyes flick to yours, softening to ganache, “And… I saw you.”

You blink, searching his face, shaking your head. 

“I—I saw you, Louella. I didn’t know who you were. But when I met you, I recognized you. I felt this,” he turns his wrist in a circle and twists his face up in this bewildered expression, “Connection. I don’t know. Like it was supposed to happen.” 

Then he looks at you, and his eyes are glassy and wide with this tender awe. Every cell in your body swells so fat and ripe with love, it’s a miracle you don’t burst like an overfilled water balloon. It hurts, how much you love him. 

“You never told me that," you manage to whisper, brushing your knuckles against his cheek. He gives you a sheepish shrug, and you drag your fingertip down the bridge of his nose, “Maybe it was supposed to happen.” 

Dieter plucks your hand from his face and interlaces his fingers with yours, then immediately pulls it back, pressing a slow, wet kiss into the blackwork apple tattooed on your wrist. He brings your palm to his cheek and holds it there, his eyelids fluttering, “What was it like for you?” 

“Well,” you set your thumb in motion against his skin, “I closed my eyes, and it was dark, then I opened them and saw the wreck. Paramedics were putting me on a stretcher, and there was so much blood I was… red. Like someone dropped me in paint or something.”

The phantom scent of iron sends a shiver up your spine. It took a week to rid your hair of that smell. In the hospital, you scraped under your nails and picked at the hollows of your ears for days before you stopped finding dried blood. 

Maybe it wasn’t days. Maybe it was hours, or minutes, you’re not sure. 

You just know that, for approximately an eternity, you discovered a small mountain of little rust-red flakes and wondered whose blood it was, knowing that even if it wasn’t his, it was. 

Dieter kisses your palm, pulling you back into the present. You blink a few times, take a deep breath, then continue. 

“Ethan was with me, and we were pulled behind the ambulance, like there was some kind of tether between me and my body, but somewhere along the way, he disappeared. That’s when I noticed...” 

You tilt your head and frown, watching your nails graze his whiskers while your mind tries to assemble a description that might make sense. 

“Above me, there was this light. Something inside me knew that’s where he went, so I followed him into the tunnel. I saw my life. When I was growing up in Ohio, my dad, my mom… the time I spent, um…” 

Your teeth catch your bottom lip and your eyes flick to his, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but I lived out of my car for a few years after I moved out, before I was accepted into CIA.”

“Really?” he searches your face, and when you nod, he rolls on his side, sliding his palm along the curve of your back, scooping you up to bring you closer. 

“Well, technically I was still homeless when I started going there, ‘til my classmate found out and insisted I move in with him,” you smirk, “That’s how Parker became my bestest friend.” 

“As always, a man after my own heart,” he murmurs and mimics the smirk on your lips. The tips of his fingers work up and down your spine in a soothing motion. 

You chuckle at this, then sigh, “Then, yeah, moving to the city, meeting Ethan. I got to the barrier and saw him cross. I could see inside it like a window. My grandparents, my dad, and Ethan—they were all there, but wouldn’t let me through. My dad told me I needed to go back, that I had more to do.”

A burning sensation climbs up your throat, settling behind your eyes, where tears start to form. You swallow the thick, raw feeling and shake your head. 

“I didn’t believe him. I didn’t think there was anything left for me if Ethan was gone, even though—” 

When you realize what you were about to say, a sob escapes you. Dieter kisses your cheek, then your forehead, and tightens his arms around you. You curl up against him, wriggling your head into that space between his collarbone and jaw. The heat of his body and your own recycled breath warms your face.

“Promise not to judge me for this?” you ask him in a hoarse whisper. 

He tucks your hair behind your ear, “I promise.” 

“Sometimes—you know, when things were really bad with him—sometimes I, um,” your voice breaks. You squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to stop the tears, take a shaky breath, then confess, “Sometimes I wished he would die.“

Self-loathing crackles in your chest. Each second that passes with no response only amplifies the feeling, and you can’t stop the wave of anxious thoughts from spilling out your lips, “It’s fucking horrible, I know it is, but he wasn’t the man I married anymore. He would leave for hours, sometimes days, without telling me where he was or who he was with, coming home all fucking strung out, reeking of booze and smoke and pussy, and—and if I asked, if I dared to fucking ask, he treated me like—like I was the fucking enemy or something—”

Another wet sob gurgles from deep in your chest. Dieter squeezes you tight, nuzzling against the crown of your head, thumb grazing your shoulder as he coos, “It’s ok, baby, it’s ok—”

“No, Dieter, it’s not fucking ok—I should have done something when I noticed it happening more and more, but I was so fucking angry with him for taking away my choice to have a family—”

He shifts to look down at you, asking, “What do you mean?”

Your heart jumps so high, it seems to get lodged in your throat for a moment. You  shake your head and swallow it down, then take a deep, wobbly breath, exhaling a sigh, “He, um… he cheated on me. Said it was a one time thing, he was all fucked up because it was the anniversary of his brother’s death—I—I don’t know. He didn’t tell me until months later when I got really sick out of nowhere and had to go to the Emergency Room. They couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me at first, but admitted me and started me on antibiotics because the symptoms pointed to an infection.” 

This big, blue boulder settles on your sternum and presses the air from your lungs. Dieter’s comforting touch starts again, swirling patterns into your shoulder, his arms cradling around you, lulling you into a sense of security, urging you onward. You relax into his warmth and clear your throat. 

“When the antibiotics worked, the doctors looked into my symptoms further. They ran a bunch of tests and eventually found that I had chlamydia. I told them it was impossible, the only person I was sexually active with was my husband—and, well… yeah. Anyway. Turns out he knew he had it, got treated, but couldn’t bring himself to tell me about it,” you shake your head and let out a sad chuckle, “Just, um, stopped fucking me. Let it fester inside me until it turned into pelvic inflammatory disease, which scarred my reproductive organs enough to make me infertile.” 

“Fuck,” he mutters, and his lips part like he’s going to say more, but his breath catches and they snap shut. When they open again, he says, “Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

You study him, “What were you going to say?” 

“What?” 

“Before you said you’re sorry, what were you going to say?” 

“I, uhh,” he pauses, and you hear the wet squelch of his gulp, “Nothing, it’s not important.”

You pull back to meet his eyes, finding them all red and glossy. An ache of affection radiates across your chest. You cup his cheeks and search his face, “Tell me.” 

“Just… that’s just a fucking terrible thing to do to someone you love,” he shakes his head, tears pooling in his eyes as he winces and looks away, “But—but my first thought was that I understand why, he umm, why—”

His face crumples. Tears blur your vision. You nod, showing you get what he’s trying to say. 

He sniffles, and his eyebrows draw together as he meets your gaze, “God, that’s fucked up, right? What the fuck does that say about me?” 

You take a moment to deliberate, wiping your eyes before telling him, “I think… the fact that you are able to recognize that in yourself, and know that it’s wrong, but tell me the truth anyway, is…” you lick your lips as you try to find the right words, deciding on, “Indicative of growth.“ 

Dieter chuckles. It’s a wet, forceful noise, like he couldn’t even help it from happening. He sniffles and presses his forehead to yours. His thumb scrapes against your damp cheek, “That is very diplomatic of you.” 

You smile despite the tears, then lean in to give him a tender kiss. His lips are warm and soft. They linger on yours for a few moments, and when you pull away, you murmur, “I love you, Dieter.” 

“I love you, too,” he rumbles, brushing your face with the back of his hand, “So, you found that out in the hospital, and I’m assuming things got worse with him after that?” 

“Yeah,” you frown and nod, “Yeah, I mean, I iced him out pretty hard. It all went down right before COVID hit New York, you know, and we were stuck at home together… he’d run our orders, then lock himself away in his office. I’d hear him snorting and pacing in there for hours. Like a caged animal. He’d come out all fucking,” you make a sniff noise and mimic a facial tic, “Twitchy and withdrawn, which was totally not like him. But, I don’t know. I couldn’t bridge that gap and move past what happened enough to help him.” 

You sigh, flicking your gaze to his, “Do you remember what he was like?” 

“Yeah,” Dieter swallows, glancing behind you for a moment before returning to your eyes, “He was nice. Funny. Easy-going. I—I mean, I liked him. Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Well, knowing what I know about him now, I feel… I don’t know, guilty, or something.” 

“Don’t,” you frown and shake your head, combing your fingers through his curls, “He was all of those things. He was so… good, you know? This thing would happen, I swear to fucking god it was like every time we went out,” you chuckle fondly, “He would strike up a conversation with a stranger and make friends with them. It was effortless. He was so magnetic. I always loved that about him. And it’s not like he was different behind closed doors or anything like that. Not at that point, anyway.” 

Your smile falters. Dieter tilts your chin up and kisses you. When he pulls back, you wriggle into his chest and close your eyes. 

“That’s what I mean, though, when I say he wasn’t the man I married. He became paranoid, unpredictable, erratic. There was this darkness about him that was so… hard to be around. I—I fucking hated him.” 

Your stomach drops, eyes blinking open. Before you can think twice, you tell Dieter, “That’s the last thing I said to him. ‘I fucking hate you.’” 

He draws a sharp breath, holds it for a moment, then says, “That’s not true, though. You talked to him last weekend, in the psychomanteum.” 

Your lips part to contradict him, but you realize he’s right. That dark, heavy feeling in your chest lifts enough for you to smile. Fresh tears prick your eyes, “I did, didn’t I?” 

“Fuck yeah you did,” he grins, craning his head to kiss your forehead, murmuring against your skin, “My sexy little ghostbuster.” 

You bury your face in his neck and laugh. His chest vibrates with a low chuckle. A serene silence settles under the white, glowing dome. Dieter releases a content sigh and traces the pomegranate on your shoulder, “Did you ever find out why?”

“Why what?” 

“Why he, umm—”

“Ah,” you nod, “Why he tried to kill us?”

“Yeah.” 

“No,” you furrow your brow, “When he dragged me out of bed that night, he kept asking me who I was working for, said it had to be NYPD or feds. He told me that someone was following him and he knew I was setting him up. I don’t know.”

You take one of his hands and interlace it with yours, cuddling them to your chest, “The first time we tried the psychomanteum, I was hoping he would be how he was before—I mean, obviously because I needed to know who he really was, if it was all a lie in the beginning, if I had just missed it… but I also wanted to ask if I should lay low. The more time that went on, though, with no red flags from police, the more I knew he was just… sick.” 

Dieter hums in acknowledgment. 

“I’m so glad we tried again. That I got to talk to him again,” you say, smirking when you add, “Thank you for helping me with my crazy ghost FaceTime.” 

He smiles, “Thank you for convincing me to try it. I’m glad I did.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he pauses and shifts a little, “James and I, in our heyday, we would write these scripts and screenplays and act them out. He did most of the writing, and I did the big parts, but I, you know, I liked… writing.” 

You pull back and tilt your head at him, a grin spreading across your face at his bashful demeanor, “Really?” 

He nods, a little bob wobbling his throat, “I’ve been thinking about giving that a shot. I have some ideas for scripts, but I’ve been so… reluctant, I guess, to put them to paper,” he shrugs, “When I talked to James, he told me I should try it again, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot.” 

“I think he’s right,” you tell him, and press a kiss into the back of his hand. 

“I just keep thinking… What if it’s terrible? What if nobody likes it?” 

“Does it matter as long as you like it?”

His features shift into seriousness as he considers this. Brow furrowed and pinched in the middle. Corners of his mouth folded in a slight frown. Eyes downcast, studying your clasped hands as he flattens your palm over his heart. 

The soft, rhythmic thump-thump beats steady. You watch his eyelids flutter and his facial muscles slacken into a serene expression. This feeling comes over you that’s hard to explain. 

It surges from deep inside your chest and buzzes across your skin. 

There’s weight to it. Nothing you can’t handle, but still, the heaviness is apparent. You simultaneously feel responsible and completely exposed. Like you’re exchanging your most prized, most fragile possessions, under the silent condition that neither of you will break the other’s. 

You would be lying if you said it didn’t scare the shit out of you. You would also be lying if you said it didn’t bring you joy. 

He catches you staring and smiles, “What?” 

“Nothing,” you grin, “I just… I love you.” 

“Yeah?”

You nod, glancing down at his lips. 

He searches your face and murmurs, “I love you so much.” 

“So fucking much,” you confirm. 

Gravel crunches beneath your sandals as you trot down the steep path to the beach, splitting your attention between your clumsy footwork and the scenery. 

Clusters of purple flowers occasionally break up the tall, dry grass. Palm trees stretch high into the brilliant, cloudless sky. Beyond the white sand beach sits the Pacific Ocean, dark and alive. 

As you inhale deep and wide, letting your eyes shut as you relish the sulphuric, briny scent of the sea, your foot catches on a rock, and you stumble forward with a yelp, grabbing Dieter’s arm to keep you from falling. He only falters a little when you latch onto him, even though he’s outfitted like a pack mule, beach chairs strapped to his back, lugging a tote bag stuffed with towels and a cooler. 

“You ok?”

“Yeah,” you wrap your hand around his bicep for support and shrug, “Just, y’know, being super attentive and graceful.” 

His muscles twitch under your grip, “Good thing you have such a big strong man to hang onto.” 

“Are you flexing?” 

“Pffff, no,” he scoffs, and this big, contagious smile spreads across his face. Gravel transitions into sand at the trail’s end, and he asks, “Alright, doll, where you wanna set up camp?” 

Your nose crinkles as you squint around the sparsely populated beach. There’s a section of shoreline far away from everyone else, and you point to it, “Right there! Avast ye!”

“Aye aye, captain!” 

His pirate voice is surprisingly on point. It makes you laugh. He grins at your amusement as the two of you trudge towards the spot. Sand kicks up inside your sandals, gritty and hot against your feet, and you grumble, “Fuck this, I can’t with the shoes.” 

You slow down to take them off, but Dieter stops you, “Wait wait wait—” 

“What?” 

“Think you can kick ‘em all the way there?”

You shrug, “Probably.” 

He sets the cooler down, takes a step back, and props his hands on his hips, looking between you and the vacant section of beach through his sunglasses, “Let’s see it.”

Rolling your eyes, you tease, “You are such a boy.” 

“Kick your shoes! Kick your shoes! Kick your—”

You wind up your right leg, then kick it forward, sending the sandal flying. 

“YEAAAAAAH!” 

It goes high, but not far, flopping on the ground a few strides ahead. 

“Ah, beans,” you say, “I thought that was outta here.” 

“See, your problem is,” Dieter drops the tote bag and shucks off the beach chairs strapped to his back. 

“Oh, you have a technique? A shoe kicking technique?” 

“Obviously,” he guffaws while tugging his joggers up his calves, “You gotta get your flippy all floppy on your toes, then kick it.” 

“I believe the technical term is loosey-goosey.”

“You’re absolutely right, my mistake,” he walks to your side and points to his foot, “See, watch this.”

He shakes his foot around until the sandal dangles off it, then winds up and launches it forward. It goes about four times further than yours, landing right where the two of you were headed. 

“BOOM! That’s a shoe kick.” 

“Nice,” you give him a high five. 

“Thanks,” he grins, “Now you try. Should we do this one together?” 

“Ok ok,” you balance on your right foot, wriggling your ankle around until the sandal slides down as far as it can. 

Dieter does the same, “Here we go, ready?”

“So fucking ready.” 

“One, two, three—”

Both of you rear back, then kick, and your sandals go whizzing through the air. Yours hits the ground first and skids across the sand, coming to rest a few feet from his first sandal, while Dieter’s flies so far it’s just a speck in the distance. 

“Holy shit!” you laugh, “That went so fucking far.” 

“And the crowd goes wild!” Dieter bellows, embellishing the statement with cheering noises as he runs a victory lap around you. 

You snort and shake your head, “Ok, now you’re gloating.” 

He continues the one man celebration as he returns to his abandoned cargo, then heaves the chairs back over his shoulders. You skip up to him and snatch the tote bag off the ground, even though he insisted on carrying everything, then take your place on his arm. 

Once the two of you arrive at the vacant stretch of beach, marked by two left sandals, Dieter sets everything up, unfolding the colorful canvas beach chairs on either side of the cooler while you strip down to your black string bikini. He digs in the pockets of his joggers and unloads most of their contents into the tote bag, save for a little tin of joints and a lighter, which he sets on the cooler.

Stretching out in the beach chair, you bury your toes in the hot sand and watch Dieter kick off his pants. He notices you noticing him and whistles at you, a flirty wheet-whew.

You grin, and when he reaches for the hem of his shirt, you catcall, “Take it off!” 

He does so dramatically, spinning the shirt over his head like a helicopter and flossing it between his legs before tossing it at you. 

“Oh my god,” you laugh when it smacks you in the face. The fabric is warm and reeks of him, which you kind of like, so you ball it up and stuff it behind your head like a pillow. 

With a groan, Dieter sits down and grabs the tin off the cooler, plugging a joint between his lips. He lights it and takes a few puffs, then relaxes back into the beach chair, passing the torch to you. 

You accept it and take two hits in quick succession, keeping the smoke hostage in your lungs. The rush of THC blurs your senses and elevates you to a pleasant altitude where worries slough off your brain. On the exhale, you hand it to Dieter and ask, “If you were a fish, what kind of fish do you think you’d be?” 

He just starts giggling as he plucks the joint from your fingertips and takes a drag.

You catch a few contagious giggles and tell him, “I think—I think I would be a, uhh… a pufferfish.” 

He furrows his brow and blows the smoke towards the ocean, then shakes his head, “A pufferfish?” 

“Yeah,” you take the joint from him, inhaling skunky, thick smoke with a shrug, “Spiky. Temperamental. Solitary.” 

“Kind of adorable when you’re mad,” he adds with a grin while accepting the joint from you, then puffs on it. A condensed white cloud curls out his parted lips when he hands it back to you. He looks out into the water, “I’d be a goldfish.” 

You study him while taking a drag, and flick a long tube of ash off the glowing orange tip. 

His nose scrunches up around his sunglasses as he glances over at you, “Trapped. Always… on display.” 

You pass him the joint and nod in understanding, but say, “I don’t think you’re a goldfish. You’re like… way cooler than a goldfish.” 

“Well, I don’t think you’re a pufferfish.” 

“Then what am I?” 

“Hmm,” he leans way back in his beach chair, tucking an arm behind his head while taking a hit off the joint, then hands it back to you, “Let me think about it.” 

“Kill it,” you wave off the joint, perfectly content with how stoned you managed to get, and lay back to bask in the warm sunshine. Your eyes drift closed and you release a deep, cleansing breath while thinking about goldfish. Pea-brained, sociable, common. 

Sure, he may feel like a goldfish, but that’s not him. Not really. 

He’s unique, and smart, and dedicated, when he wants to be. 

Dozens of different sea creatures swim behind your eyelids. You compare and contrast each one to your paramour. Octopi are smart and shapeshifters, but they’re too reclusive. Sharks too aggressive. A whole fleet of colorful, tropical fish, but none of them seem right, until one little curly-tailed guy buzzes across the ocean in your head. 

Your eyes open and you smile at him, “You’re a seahorse.” 

“How’s that?” he asks, voice warped by smoke. He grinds the joint into the sand, then outstretches a hand to you. 

You take it, interlacing your fingers with his, forming a bridge between your armrests, “They eat a lot, they’re kind of pokey—”

“Stop, you flatter me,” he deadpans.

You throw your head back in laughter and say, “Wait, wait—let me finish! They’re also cute, and romantic, and smart, and curious,” you lean forward and bring his hand to your lips, pressing a kiss into his skin, then declare, “You, my love, are a seahorse.” 

A wide grin spreads across his face. His thumb works against your hand. He tugs on it and murmurs, “C’mere.”

You crawl out of the beach chair, into his lap, linking your arms around his neck as you pull him in for a kiss. One of his hands snakes around your waist while the other comes to rest on your bare thigh. When your lips part, you curl up against his chest and sigh, “I love you, my sweet seahorse man.” 

He lets out a dopey little giggle and kisses the crown of your head, mumbling into your hair, “And I love you, my beautiful seahorse lady.” 

You gasp, peering up at him, “I get to be a seahorse with you?” 

“It makes sense, don’t you think?” he pulls you close and nuzzles into your hair, snuggling you like you’re his favorite stuffed animal at bedtime, “You and me, we can just… get our tails all tangled up and float around the sea together. Hang out in coral reefs and eat, uhhh… I don’t know, whatever seahorses eat. Sea-monkeys?” 

“Sea-monkeys?” you guffaw, “What the fuck are those?”

“It’s a thing!” he laughs, giving your thigh a playful smack, “Didn’t you ever have sea-monkeys? They came in those, uhh, little Parmesan cheese packet lookin’ things—Oh! They’re shrimp! Brine shrimp.” 

“Ohhhhh!” you cover your face as you nod, “Ok, yes. I know sea-monkeys. I bet if I was a seahorse I would eat the shit out of those.” 

“Told you.” 

“You’re right,” you relax back into him, unable to shake the smile from your lips, “Did you know that when a seahorse finds another seahorse they really like, they mate for life?” 

“Really?”

“Yeah,” your eyes drift closed, lulled by the warmth of him surrounding you, “They love each other so much that when one of them dies, the other shortly follows. Cuz they can’t live without each other.” 

“That’s weirdly romantic,” he chuckles and kisses your forehead. 

“Totally us.” 

He hums in agreement. The noise is saturated with a warm contentment that seeps into your bones and boils them down to broth. It sloshes around under your skin and you can’t imagine having to move ever again. 

“If we stay like this I’m gonna fall asleep,” you mumble. His response is to nuzzle even closer and take a deep, sleepy breath. It’s all the permission you need to let the sandman pull you under. 

When Dieter wakes, not much time has passed. The sun no longer hangs in the zenith of the sky like an angry disco ball, but stares him straight in the face. 

He peaks down at you and chuckles. A puddle of drool has collected on his shoulder, dribbling from the corner of your slackened mouth. Warmth swells in his belly and aches all the way up to his chest. He strokes your sweaty, heated cheek and thinks, “I don’t deserve her.” 

The thought is not so much self-deprecating as it is full of awe at his fortune. 

Each morning, when he wakes and you’re still there, wrapped up in his embrace, he can’t believe it. Your one-way ticket to LA has no return trip planned. Neither of you have brought it up. The closest you’ve come is asking him, “Are you sick of me yet?” one morning over breakfast. 

“Sick of you?” he scoffed and ripped off a chunk of his blueberry muffin, popping it into his mouth, “Not possible.” 

You smiled at him over your coffee mug before taking a tentative sip and changing the subject, “What’re we doing today?”

He knows you have a life back in New York. A business and friends waiting for you to return, but, god… he’d do anything to keep you here forever. To share as many days with you as possible. 

As has been happening often lately, he dwells on a snippet from his near-death experience. The one of him holding your hands, where you’re wearing a white dress, smiling bright and full and gorgeous, and you say, “I do.” 

Given the result of his previous marriage, he considers that he might be an idiot for daydreaming about it. Especially this soon. 

Didn’t he learn his lesson last time? 

Apparently not. 

Did he feel this way last time, though? Like someone turned up the dimmer switch on his life? With Anika, did he ever know, with certainty, that he would give up anything and everything to stay in the orbit of her affection? 

No. 

It’s different with you. The tendrils of your love have burrowed deep inside him, taking root in a place no one else has touched. A place he didn’t even know existed within him. 

You stir a little. Dieter strokes a scarred-up strawberry on your arm, gazing down at you in time to witness your eyes blink open and meet his. A hazy smile spreads across your lips, and you reach up, brushing his patchy beard with your knuckles, “What time is it?” 

The words are groggy and rough. 

He shrugs, “Sometime.” 

Humming, you look around, then try to sit up, but he reels you back in and squeezes his arms around you, “Mmmm no.” 

“Dee,” you whine, laughter wavering your protest, “I’m so thirsty. And hot.” 

“Yeah you are.” 

One corner of your mouth tucks into a smirk and you snort, shaking your head at him. You kiss him, your dry, sea-chapped lips sticking to the soft inner plush of his mouth. When you draw back and stretch your hands up towards the aquamarine sky, a deep yawn expanding your rib cage, he reluctantly lets you go. 

Exhaling a gust, your body goes slack and you roll off his lap into the sand, groaning, “Water,” then crawl towards the cooler. He reaches over to pop the lid open for you and grabs a seltzer. The can opens with a hiss. He brings it to his lips, taking a big swallow of the bubbly, vaguely strawberry-flavored water. 

You twist the cap off a dewy plastic water bottle and tip your head back to guzzle it down, water streaming out the corners of your mouth, trickling down your chin, neck, chest, the column of your throat pumping in a thick glug-glug-glug that flickers at the base of his spine. 

Sand coats your arms and legs, all those microscopic grains clinging to your slick, sweaty skin. The bottle collapses in on itself as you suck down the remaining water. You toss it aside and gasp for air, chest heaving, practically fucking moaning, “Oh my god—that was fucking amazing.” 

A hot, heady rush of need gushes through him. His dick jumps. Breathing quickens. 

Dieter gulps down seltzer, ogling you while you grab a fistful of ice from the cooler and hold it to your forehead, eyes fluttering shut. You press the melting ice into your cleavage, squishing your tits together, lips parting in a gasp. 

Jesus fucking Christ, Louella. 

He sits up and finishes off the seltzer, dropping his empty in the sand, “Need some help?” 

With your head still tilted back, eyelids still sealed shut, a sly smile spreads across your face, “Oh yeah?” 

By now, the heat of your skin has turned the ice to water, trailing shiny and wet down your abdomen, pooling in your belly button, darkening the very top of your black string bikini. 

Dieter stifles a groan at the sight. Saliva gathers in the dark cavern of his mouth. He gulps it down. 

You open your eyes and level your gaze to his, eyebrow quirking as you shrug. 

He takes a handful of ice from the cooler and pats his thigh. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You crawl over to him and climb into his lap, sliding back until you’re seated firmly on his hard cock. 

“Someone is excited,” you chuckle. 

“Can you blame me?” he grins, brushing hair from the nape of your neck. He presses the ice into that knotted bone right beneath your skull, then slides it down your back, drawing circles over each vertebrae. Your shoulders slacken and you let out a sigh of relief. 

When the cube melts, right around the middle of your spine where your string bikini is tied into a neat little bow, he gets a new one. 

“That feels good,” you breathe, hips arching back, ass pressing hard against him. 

The way you say this, all lusty and scraping along the edge of your vocal cords, makes his throat rumble and beckons him closer. He shifts his seated position, sitting up higher, slipping a hand around your waist to make sure you don’t wiggle away, then presses a slow kiss into your pulse. 

You hum, opening your neck wider for him to taste the salty bite of your sweat. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles against your skin, fingertips digging into your soft belly. The ice cube melts against your tailbone, and he grabs another, smearing its decay along your collarbone, down your sternum. 

When he slides it under your skimpy little bikini top and rubs it against your pebbled nipple, you rock your hips against his, letting out a soft gasp, “You’re gonna get us in trouble.” 

“With who?” he murmurs, nips at your neck, then says, “Nobody’s here, love.” 

“Wait, really?”

You lean forward and look around, turning back to him with a mischievous grin when you find what he said is true. Your pink bubblegum tongue peaks out to wet your lips as you search his face, “Are you sure?”

“Relax, doll,” he purrs, reeling you in, pressing his lips into your shoulder, your neck, your jaw. You reach back, fingers tangling in his hair, and pull him into a leisurely, saccharine kiss. 

Like always, it makes his heart stutter. Bubbles hot and wanting up the middle of him. You roll your hips. The heated weight of you grinds hard against his cock, making him groan into your mouth. 

His fingertips dance across your abdomen, tracing tedious little swirls into your skin. Your lips gape open with a whine and you roll your hips. His eyelids flutter and he shudders at the wave of pleasure that floods his body. He grabs your hips and silently urges you to continue, rocking you back and forth. 

“Fuck, that’s good, baby,” he pants. 

Your hand slides over his, both chilled and wet from melted ice, and you guide it between your legs, nodding when his touch wriggles under the fabric of your swimsuit, moaning when he finds your clit and rubs you, soft and steady, studying the subtle, pleasure-filled tremors that make your muscles twitch and breathing quicken. 

Your eyebrows thread together and your lips get all pouty, these huffy whimpers escaping them with each stroke, and he could just fucking eat you alive right now, you’re that goddamn beautiful. 

His mouth seizes yours. You respond with vigor, twisting your top half around to bury your hands in his hair and kiss him harder. 

He works you faster, flicking his wrist, swallowing your moans whole. 

You pull back with a gasp and throw your head back on his shoulder, “Holy fuck, yes—”

“Does that feel good, baby?” 

“Sofuckinggood,” you whimper, grinding against him, “Fuck—fuck, I want you, Dee—”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you right here in the open?” he coos in your ear.

You nod. 

“Let me take these off,” he withdraws his hand and you scramble to your feet, chest heaving as you glance up and down the shoreline. He tugs off his swim trunks and reclines in the canvas beach chair. 

Your eyes drop to his cock, and this big, delighted smile stretches across your face. Returning to his lap, you lower yourself back while Dieter pushes the gusset of your bikini aside and guides to your target. When the tip of him breaches your entrance, you gasp.

“Holy shit, baby,” he groans as you ease him into your hot, wet squeeze, whimpering, “Fuck fuck fuck,” under your breath as he stretches you open. 

When he can’t go any further, you adjust your posture, hands on his knees, leaning forward, arching your back. You look over your shoulder, meeting his eyes, and start to roll your hips, pussy suctioning around him, taking him slow and deep. 

He moans and nods in approval at the pleasure that gushes up his spine, “That’s it, baby, take what you need. Ride that cock how you want it, feels so fucking good, fuuuck—”

“Oh my god, Dee,” you whine, eyes fluttering shut, mouth hanging slack. 

He slides his palms up your back and watches his cock, all shiny with your slick, disappear into you over and over again. Your huffy little whimpers grow louder and you grip his knees, pushing yourself back onto him harder, faster.

“There you go, love,” he groans, gripping your waist, “It’s all yours, baby, take it—”

“Fuck, Dee—”

Your voice is high-pitched and frantic. His hips arch into yours, pulling a wrecked moan from your chest. Liquid heat pulses through him, and when he thrusts again, you gasp and nod, “Fuck, keep doing that.”

He does. He fucks up into you and you curve your spine, face to the sky, tilting your pelvis just so, and the hot, plush silk of your cunt grips his cock, making this sick, wet squelching noise that only fuels him further. 

“Fuck, you’re amazing, so fucking perfect,” he pants, skin tingling with desire, wanting to feel you closer, needing to feel your lips on his. His hips slow and he slides a hand to your belly, urging you, “Come here, baby.” 

Dieter guides you back, threading one arm around your abdomen, the other scooping up your knees. You link your hands at the nape of his neck and he presses his forehead into yours. The first thrust makes your whole body tense and you whimper, “Holyfuckingshit—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, pulling back to meet your wide eyes, “You can do it, you can take it.”

You make this cute, pathetic kind of noise, gulping down a whine, but nod for him to continue. 

He rolls his hips, slow at first, letting you acclimate, increasing his tempo when your head rolls back and your walls relax. 

You’re cradled so close he can see the sweat glistening on your skin, can smell your damp musk, can hear every breathy moan, can feel every muscle in your body quiver as he pumps into you. The edges of him start to crumble, deteriorating with each thick wave of pleasure that washes over him. 

“Fucking perfect, Jesus fucking Christ, pussy feels so good I fucking love it,” he babbles.

Your breathing grows frantic and sharp, head snapping up to tell him, “Don’t fucking stop I’m so close, holy shit Dee—”

“Fuck yes, cum on this dick baby, let me feel you, I fucking love it I fucking love you—”

You pull him into a needy, messy kiss, your deep, wanton moans vibrating on his tongue as you convulse around him, tremors twitching your muscles. A swell of pleasure steals his breath, surging through him hot and gooey and overwhelming, and he falls over the edge, spilling inside you. 

Your lips don’t part from his for more than a moment while the two of you come down into blissful satisfaction, your bodies sweaty and trembling. Labored breaths gradually dissipate into normalcy, and the kisses linger with intimacy. 

“Wow,” you giggle eventually, slack and boneless against his body as you tuck your head into his neck, “Are there awards for fucking? I think you just won in the outstanding performance category.” 

The praise curls up inside him and makes him chuckle, “What an honor. I’d like to thank my beautiful costar, Louella. Couldn’t have done it without you—”

Your laughter cuts him off, then you say,“You can put your Fuck-ee next to your Oscar.” 

“Fuck-ee?” he throws his head back and guffaws, “What would that trophy look like? A golden dong?” 

Your body shakes with laughter, “I think that sounds perfect.” 

He kisses your sweaty forehead, releasing a content sigh before murmuring “I should put my trunks back on.”

You chug two more bottles of water before returning to your chair beside Dieter. 

As you stretch out in the sunlight, the outside world starts to creep back into frame. Sand heats the soles of your feet. Ocean waves roar and slosh onto the beach. A salty breeze ruffles your hair and cools your heated skin. 

Dieter nods to the seemingly infinite gray-blue water, “Wanna take a dip?” 

You look at the ocean. At the tide washing ashore, then pulling back, again and again. Big, rhythmic, gasping breaths. You think about the vast depth of the Pacific, about the ecosystems it contains, all its tides and currents. All the life it contains and death it brings. The sheer power and magnitude of its existence, right in front of you. 

Unease twists your stomach and hums in your bones. Your chest aches. 

It’s so overwhelming. 

Dieter squeezes your hand, reminding you of his question, and you glance over at him, his expression hopeful and earnest. You can’t say no to that face. Besides, it’s just water. 

You’re being irrational. 

“Sure.” 

“Yeah?” he crinkles his nose like he’s squinting at you behind his sunglasses, “We don’t have to, you know.” 

“It’s fine, let’s go,” you crawl to your feet, dusting sand off your legs and ass as you start towards it, ignoring the violent thud of your pulse. 

He catches up to you, interlacing his fingers with yours, and the two of you trudge through the hot sand. 

“Are you sure?” 

You frown, “Yeah, why?”

“You seem,” he pauses here, jaw ticking to one side, then runs a hand through his wind-blown curls, “I dunno. Like you don’t actually want to.” 

You frown and shake your head, but the action isn’t convincing. 

When he starts to slow, you do too, and you both come to a stop, side-by-side, right across the border of smooth, damp sand. A wave crashes against the shoreline. Its tide stretches towards you, then the cool water washes over your feet. 

Dieter squeezes your hand, “Lua. Don’t lie to me.” 

You turn and face him, opening your mouth to lie, then he pulls his sunglasses up into his hair so you can meet his eyes, that warm gaze knocking at the eroded, but stubborn, cement wall of your heart, begging, “Let me in. Please.” 

“It’s stupid,” you drop your gaze and catch the soft inside of your cheek between your molars, then glance between him and the rolling water, “It’s just scary, you know?” 

He frowns, “What is, the ocean?”

“Well, yeah,” you scoff, gesturing towards another incoming wave, “It’s fucking massive. We don’t even know what’s in there, I mean, there could be monsters—”

“Monsters?” 

You shoot him a playful glare and chuckle, “We don’t know!”

“Uh huh” he grins, both of his heated, sandy palms finding your waist. 

You drape your arms around his neck, tangling your fingertips into the damp curls at the base of his skull, then swallow hard and shrug, “And maybe… I don’t know, maybe I can’t, um… swim?” 

His eyebrows shoot up, “Oh shit, really?” 

Heat creeps up your neck. You drop your gaze and hear yourself mutter out excuses like a reflex, “Not very good, anyway. Nobody ever took me swimming, or showed me how, and I never figured it out on my own, and-and Ethan was supposed to teach me—” 

“Hey, that’s fine,” he works his thumb against your skin, soothing you, “We don’t have to go far, no swimming necessary.”

You thread your brows together, “Really?” 

“Obviously,” he scoffs, “What, you think I’m gonna make you? We don’t have to go into the water at all if you don’t want to—”

“No, I want to. It looks nice, just,” you chuckle at yourself, at the worried voice of anxiety piping up in the back of your brain, “I know it’s silly, but will you make sure I don’t get, like… pulled under?” 

“Scout’s honor,” he pulls you into a hug, and you hug him back, resting your cheek on his bare chest. The ragged, jittery sparks in your ribcage calm to a low purr. Your muscles melt and untangle. Another wave washes ashore and rolls over your feet, then disappears.

He plants a firm smooch on your forehead, then rubs your back and murmurs, “Ready?” 

“Let’s fuckin’ do this,” you say in your most masculine tough guy voice, pulling back to grin at him. 

He snorts, shaking his head at you, brown eyes crinkled and twinkling with amusement, then grabs your hand and starts walking out into the tide as it rushes inland. When the ocean takes its offering back, you squeal at the sensation, how water pulls sand out from under you like a rug, coaxing you closer. Wild, salt-addled gusts whip your hair around and nip your generously exposed skin. Before you know it, you’re knee-deep in the icy water, wobbling when an incoming wave shoves you back and splashes up your thighs. 

You gasp and squeeze Dieter’s hand for stability. He steps behind you, wrapping his warm, sun-kissed arms around your body, purring in your ear, “I’ve got you, doll, don’t worry.” 

“Ok,” you nod, staring out into the deep, dark unknown, rooted in place by his fortitude, finally allowing yourself to marvel in the beauty of it all, “Ok.” 

Dieter watches you from bed as you rub moisturizer into your cheeks, leaning towards the bathroom mirror, making all these cute, squishy expressions. Little beads of water drip off the ends of your hair, still wet from the shower, onto the floor and counter. 

He’s never really been a forever kind of person. Up until about a year ago, every good thing in his life had been fleeting: flings, highs, gigs. The friendships he held onto were superficial and based in commodity. His marriage felt like a debt he owed. Companionship spoke foreign tongues. He never felt sated. Never felt like this. 

This. 

Fuck, he loves this. 

He thought people made this shit up. Forever. It always sounded like a joke. 

But it’s all he can think about. How he never wants to spend another night without you here, wearing nothing but his faded old Prince t-shirt, brushing your teeth, putting all your things away in the bathroom drawer. For-fucking-ever. 

When you flip off the bathroom light and come wandering back into the bedroom, you notice him staring at you, and chuckle, “What’re you smiling about?” 

Dieter didn’t even realize he was smiling, but you’re right, he is. With a shrug, he says, “You look pretty.” 

“Yeah?” you smirk, and twirl around a little, “Is this doing it for ya?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

You roll your eyes, that big beautiful smile stretching across your face, and crawl into bed beside him. He wraps an arm around your shoulder as you tuck yourself into his side, ear to his heart. Probably, you hear it skip a beat when he realizes what he’s about to say. 

“I don’t want you to leave.” 

The seconds after are so quiet he hears your lips part. You shift around until you’re propped up on his chest, searching his face, “What’re you saying?” 

His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. He curls a hand around the small of your back, “I mean, you know, I want you to stay,” he swallows and meets your gaze, “Like, to live here.” 

Your features lights up, and it’s sweeter than any fucking buzz he ever caught. 

“Really?”

He nods. 

As if something occurs to you, your lips fall into a frown, “What about my baking? And-and Parker—”

“Open something up here. You always tell me about how you want to run a legit bakery,” he smooths his thumb against your spine, “Parker can visit us whenever he wants.” 

“I don’t have the capital to open a bakery—”

“I’ll help.” 

Your shoulders deflate a little and a crease forms between your brows. You tap your fingertips against his chest and ask, “Would you consider moving to New York?” 

He drops his gaze and shakes his head, “I have to be here. Better chance of me picking up work if I’m close by.“

“Dieter,” you pause, holding your breath like you’re not sure you want to say it, but when he meets your eyes, you stammer, “It just doesn’t seem like, I don’t know… Do you even like acting?”

The question feels like a jolt. 

He jerks his head back, “Yeah. Yeah, of course I do.” 

You raise your eyebrows. Unconvinced. Stomach acid sloshes around inside him and bubbles up his throat. 

“It’s my purpose. Acting is the only constant in my life, the only thing that I do that means anything. It—it’s what gets me out of bed and pushes me to keep going.” 

He says this, but the words taste sour. Does he even like acting anymore? Or is he just scared to try something else? 

A glimpse of the answer in his heart sends it racing. He stuffs it down and tries not to look at it. It’s too fucking scary. 

You study him for a moment, then scrunch your face up and stare at your fingertips as they dance across his bare skin. Deep in thought. With each second that goes by, he’s sure you’ll press harder and make him crack. It wouldn’t take much. 

“I wonder how much money I could make selling my inventory,” you ponder out loud,  “Probably at least $20k. That would be an ok starting—”

His mouth drops open, “Holy shit, how much do you have?” 

You shrug, “Twenty pounds raw, thirty pounds cannabutter—”

“And I’ve been smoking you up?” he tuts, “Puta madre.” 

You gasp and smack his chest, breaking out in a giggle when you say, “Rude.” 

“I’m just kidding,” he laughs, pulling you closer, “Smoking you up is an honor.” 

“Damn right it is.” 

The two of you smile at each other for a moment, then what you were saying catches up to him. 

“So, if you sell everything, then…” 

Your eyebrow quirks and your grin spreads wider as you shrug, “Then I could probably swing a cross-country move.” 

“Yeah?” 

His cheeks ache from smiling, but he can’t stop. 

You nod, “Yeah.” 

The shrill sound of your ringtone cuts through sleep. 

You roll out of Dieter’s loose grip to grab at the source, frowning first at the time, then the caller. Fucking FaceTime, seriously?

You pull Dieter’s shirt over your head and tiptoe out onto the patio, sliding the door shut behind you as you answer with a hiss, “Parker, it’s 3am, what the fu—”

“Lou, look,” he says, and you squint at the screen, recognizing the propped open door to your apartment building. The snow piles flicker blue and red. Parker pans the camera to the half-dozen NYPD squad cars clogging the street. Police officers and people wearing jackets reading NYPD FORENSIC INVESTIGATION DIVISION file in and out of the building, the outgoing individuals carrying boxes of evidence. 

“I don’t understand,” you shake your head, “What’s going on, are you ok?”

“That’s from your apartment, Lou,” he tells you quietly, “They fucking raided it.”

Panic seeps into your blood, an icy cold rush that numbs your limbs and freezes your brain. You just keep shaking your head, and hear yourself tell Parker, “No—no that can’t be right.” 

“Trust me, it is—”

“Excuse me,” an off-screen voice says to Parker, and the perspective shifts to the source: a bald white man with thick-rimmed glasses. He’s holding a camera, and he asks, “Do you live here?” 

“No,” Parker answers. 

Another wave of panic slams into you as you realize who he is: David Alterman from DIRT. 

You end the call and stare at the screen, unable to move. Unable to think. Just one thought blares in your mind, deafening and persistent: RUN.

[i-am-baechu]

♡ Summary: Two years seem like a lot to some people but to Taehyung it didn’t even feel like time had passed. He’s gotten better but he hasn't healed yet. It wasn't until an interview question made him froze and remember everything.

♡ Paring: Unrequited love; Idol!Taehyung x Reader 

♡ Rating: Pg - 14

♡ Genre: Unrequited love, Idol!Taehyung, stylist intern! Reader, hanahaki disease, character death, fluff (flashbacks), and angst

♡ Based on the one-shot; Not About Angels

Silence. It can say so much but at the same time nothing at all. That’s the beauty of quietness. Most think silence can bring peace but Taehyung knew better. It brought pure and utter chaos. People say as the years go by, it gets easier. Losing someone becomes easy but the pain will always be there, no matter how many times you try to run away. 

There were days where he imagined Y/N running in flower fields and looking out into the mountains as the sun sets. The running rivers create a melody as she quietly hums with him holding her. The night sky painting over them as the winds brought them closer together, as the moon hears their secrets. How do you move on from something that never happened? The love he had for Y/N was something he never thought he would experience. She was the soft touch that healed his insecurities and he turned his tears into a guiding light. She was everything he wanted but now she was the person he remembers on the lonely nights. Maybe one day he could rewrite the stars when they are reincarnated together and keep her close at all times. Sadly, life never does us favors. No matter how much you beg.

Two years have passed since Y/N passed and Taehyung remembers everything like it happened yesterday. He spent so many nights staring out in the sky, begging for a sign of her. He went to the flower shop everyday and got her favorite flowers for his house. He even bought her favorite perfume putting it on a sweater that she accidentally left at the studio. Everyone was having a hard time and he didn’t want to make anyone worry for him more. He didn’t talk to anyone for three months. The only thing he did was cry into their shoulders as they grieved together. He didn’t want to make things harder for them anymore. He was better but the pain was still there. It will always be there no matter what. He looks back on memories and he doesn’t cry, that’s a big step. 

Today, he sat with the other guys in an interview. He wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation. He looked outside the window to see the rain hitting the glass. He smiled to himself when he remembered how he met Y/N. He felt a touch on his shoulder from Jungkook and looked at the MC with a small smile, “Sorry, the rain distracted me.” 

“No worries, the question was, have you ever been in love?” 

Taehyung blinked his eyes and looked down at the floor as his mind clouded with memories. Moments that he can’t let go. 

Taehyung walked down the street with his mask concealing his appearance from everyone around him. He raised his eyebrow when he watched a woman his age run under the hospital. She looked at the rain but it wasn’t anger, it was more contentment if anything. She was probably content after making it under. He smiled softly at this and looked down at his umbrella and then back at the girl. He walked towards her with the rain filling his ears, “Excuse me?” 

The woman turned her head and looked at him with wide eyes. She pointed to herself and he wanted to laugh, “Fo-For me?” 

He nodded his head and she gently took the umbrella out of his hand with their fingers gently touching each other. He ignored that (not wanting to embarrass himself) and she bowed at him, “Thank you.” He bowed back and waved goodbye with his eyes closed. As he walked away, he stopped in his tracks and looked behind him to see that she was gone. He smiled again and shook his head, “Cute.” 

He walked out of the restaurant and sighed to himself, he missed another opportunity to ask Y/N out. He rubbed the back of his head and re-dialed Rose's number. 

“What?”

“I chickened out again.” 

“HOW CAN YOU CHICKEN OUT!” 

He pulled the phone away from his ear and sighed, “I-I just did...She just makes me nervous.” He glanced back at the restaurant and smiled to himself as he saw her eat the ramen. 

“Are you comfortable with me?”

“Yeah, that’s you though. She's different...She’s the first flower in spring and I-I-I love her like how fate gives people second chances. She makes me want to experience love.”

“Tell her this, you idiot.” 

Taehyung took a deep breath and looked into the interviews with a sad smile, “Ye-Yes...I have.” 

“Really!? Can you tell us about it?”

Taehyung smiled and ignored the concerned looks from his members. He rubbed his hands gently as he licked his lips, “She was...She was beautiful. She was the greatest painting that I have ever seen in my life. Filled with vibrant colors that were only for my eyes. She was a mirror of my dreams and all I wanted to do was make those dreams come true. She was the song in summer that connects souls and the chill in autumn that brings people together....She was the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.” 

The MC smiled at this and nodded his head, “She sounds very important to you. Would you like to say anything to her?” 

Taehyung nodded his head and glanced at the dark sky before looking back at the MC, “I love you...forever more.” 

As soon as those words left his lips, the rain stopped and a bright light came through the darkness. Taehyung's eyes widened and stood up. He slowly walked up to the window and gently placed his hand on the glass as he looked at the sun with tears in his eyes. Y/N, did you hear me?

“I think Taehyung’s confession made the sun come out of hiding.” 

He felt everyone’s eyes on his back but he didn’t dare to turn back. Not when he felt her warmth through the glass. It’s been so long since he felt her warmth, that he could crumble to his knees at this moment. It was as if she was sharing her memories with him at this moment. Their memories intertwined at this moment to touch his heart as he stared at the sun. 

Y/N watched Rose and Jungkook argue about something with a soft smile, it was rather cute. She noticed everyone was focused on something else or the argument, making it the perfect time to escape for a bit. She put her glass on a random table and walked out of the small room onto the balcony. The cold air hit her face as she closed her eyes letting the cold create goosebumps on her arms. She opened them and glanced at the sky to see the bright stars twinkling like gems. She leaned against the railing and continued to look out into the city. 

“Y/N? Why are you out here?” 

She jumped and glanced over her shoulder to see Taehyung drinking with his eyebrow raised. She let out a small cough and rubbed her arm gently, “I needed a breather...” 

“Don’t like social gatherings?” 

“I like them...my social battery just drains fast.” 

Taehyung nodded his head and made his way toward the woman. She watched him closely, still trying to figure him out. He stood next to her and looked at the sky with his cup so dangerously on the railing, “It’s peaceful, isn’t it?”

She turned her body back to the sky and nodded her head, “It is.”  

“Here.” Before she could say anything, Taehyung took off his coat and put it over her shoulders. Her eyes widened at this and brought the coat closer to her body with a small smile, “Thank you.” 

“Wouldn’t want you to get cold.”

The rain made this walk in the park melancholy but somehow Taehyung made it joyous. His boxy smile made her smile even with the drops of water creating images on his umbrella. She put her hand out of the umbrella and she felt his eyes on her but she didn’t dare to look. She felt the cold water hit her hand and it caused her to smile, “Do you like the rain?”

“I do, it's peaceful. It gives you a moment of serenity as well.” 

He nodded his head and glanced towards the sky, “But it makes the sky look so sad.”

“Sadness is still an emotion, it's better than not feeling anything at all.” 

“I guess, you're a deep thinker.”

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow as she let out a small laugh, “What?” 

“You're like Namjoon-Hyung. Always thinking, I’m jealous.”

She shook her head and slowly moved her head to hit his arm (showing him her version of affection), “You think differently, it's colorful. I like that about you.” 

“Oh, so you like me?” 

She didn’t answer that but she didn’t move her head off of his arm. She didn’t see the small smile on his face. 

He smiled at the memories and remembered them from her point of view. He remembered reading it in her journal. He loved that she wrote like Jane Austen about everything. The story that never got the ending that it deserved. The last thing she wrote in it was how much she loved his smile and how it was the sun. Today she was his sun. 

“Taehyung, are you coming back?”

He smiled to himself and nodded his head before wiping his eyes, “I’m coming...I’m coming.”

[chaand-sitara]

A girl named Sitara, moved to a remote town, looking for peace with a mysterious little baby girl whose name was Ahilya, there, one man named Raunak Sahab took 'pity' on Sitara and let her stay.

Over the course, Raunak Sahabh was always skeptical towards Sitara, her sudden appearance from a buzzing city to a remote town, the baby and her overall 'damsel in distress' act which everyone bought but not him.

Sitara had told people how her parents had disowned her after she had became pregnant with Ahilya, the town people ate the story up and took care of her, the thing was, the little town had extremely less elidgle female women to get married to, as almost all were married off.

So people were trying to set Sitara with their sons, Sitara knew this and took this as her advantage, then an old woman named aga bai, or who was a trans woman called agastya, was caring towards Sitara because how pretty she was.

Sitara never let Ahilya get out of her sight, suddenly few men started disappearing from the town, in the course of eight weeks, or roughly around 2 and half months, there were 5 dead bodies found.

Everyone was concerned as to who was doing this, but Raunak Sahab knew it was Sitara, her random absences, constant need to take a rest when visible and signs of struggle on her arm.

One day Raunak Sahab brought the police to show Sitara was the one behind it, having proof as she had said to herself one day that she had written the whole plan in a diary and Raunak Sahab had heard her. The police couldn't find anything, but before they could leave, Aga bai shouted from behind, exclaiming that they should check Raunak Sahab's hut too!

As he had blamed an innocent young girl, making everyone slowly agree to Aga bai, the police did so, much to Raunak Sahab's dismay, and found a diary, filled with his finger prints, it was his old diary on which he tried to start a journal on but couldn't do so.

In the diary, they found all the plans regarding all the 5 dead bodies and a new one about how Sitara would be killed off, as she was being a hurdle.

The police immediately arrested Raunak Sahab, and he was brought to the station, this case interested the CBI sub head Atul Deshpande, who was a serious, clever and witty officer.

He interviewed Raunak, in which he stated how Sitara was extremely suspicious from the start, and he never murdered anyone, Atul also suspected Sitara and asked her to be brought to the CBI office.

Sitara knew she was maybe in trouble, shlo she had all her stuff packed, and took Ahilya with her to the office.

Atul then brutally interrogated Sitara, but she had a calm face throughout the whole time, he unwillingly had to let go of her, as she was leaving, she saw from behind the people of the office were running after her.

She also then quickly sprinted, running down, skipping stairs and jumping from one stair case to another, this caught the eye of one of the most skilled young CBI officers, Neelkanth Vaikunth, or as he liked to be called, Neel.

Atul saw Neel downstairs and told him to run after the girl, Sitara had left her bag and grabbed Ahilya and sprinted off into the forest.

She was too quick and Neel wasn't able to catch her. They took her bag to examine the fingerprints, but her profile wasn't visible, at all, as If Sitara was a dead woman.

Sitara had placed Ahilya in a safe place, with someone she trusted. And went to go to a bathhouse, which was actually near the office, but not too near, but Sitara knew that they won't search for her near the place she ran from

After the bath, she came out wrapped in towel and gasped when she saw Neel there, but calmed down when he got flustered and left, she then realised Neel didn't knew how she looked like.

She came in her clothes to see Neel with his CBI officers, who were their friends and one of them was his girlfriend as she was clinging onto him.

Neel then saw Sitara coming out and apologised for what he had done, thinking it was his girlfriend, Isha, who had told him to come in after she had been dressed but he had went to the room next to hers.

Sitara forgave him and smiled, Neel unknowingly stared at her smile but then then snapped out of the trance when his friend cleared his throat and he realised the girl wasn't there anymore.

Just after a while they had gotten a message from Atul saying they found Sitara, they went inside the interrogation room, to wait for Atul to bring the girl in as he had said.

Atul had actually captured Sitara, and had told her to go in the interrogation room, As he had something to bring, Sitara sneakily grabbed a glass of tea to drink as she was thirsty,and then went inside to see all of them she had met at the bath house.

Neel then smiled at her, saying she was here to send the tea? Sitara looked at him for a second and then agreed, saying the tea was for Atul, Neel's friend then said to bring some for them also.

Sitara quickly nodded and was about to leave the room but Atul came in, he was in shock to See Sitara not in cuffs! She pushed him to the ground and ran outside the office and towards the forest, Neel was surprised that it was the girl who was Sitara, so he sprinted towards her before Atul could order him.

Neel ran after her with his friends behind, she was visible but not too much, suddenly he heard a gunshot, and looked behind to see Isha had shot Sitara, Neel then bursted on Isha, for shooting a suspect Atul needed alive.

Isha then scoffed saying she wasn't important and they just needed her, their friend Ashish, calmed Neel down and told him to walk towards the body, they all three did but to their surprise, they didn't find her body!

If they had paid attention to their surroundings properly, they would have seen Aga bai carrying Sitara away from the scene and taking her away...

(something which came in my dream and I needed to write it somewhere! Plus, after posting this, I am gonna add their aesthetics! This is fun! There will be a second part but then that's all.)

[here4theheartbreak]

Leader of the Pack Ch.5

Relationships: Bangchan x Changbin   (SKZ) Genre: smut | angst w/ a happy ending | werewolf au   Rating: Explicit     Chapter Word Count: ~5k   Tags (not all tags apply to all chapters; these are full fic tags): DD:DNE, Smut,  Friends to Lovers, Werewolf AU, Angst w/ a happy ending, Fluff, Werewolf Bang Chan, Idolverse, Minor Violence, Side Pairing Felix/Minho, Bickering, Rough, Dirty Talk, Bottom Changbin, Top Chan, Werewolf Smut, Knots

Summary: Secrets are hard to keep from those we love. This was a fact that Chan  knew all too well. He loved his members and he shared every piece of  himself with them - except the biggest, and most vital. Chan was cursed.   ​  A/N: Fic will be updated Mondays as schedule allows; Please note that fic will include smut while member is in wolf form; he is still sentient and able to communicate, which is the reason for the dead dove tag; please do not proceed if not comfortable with this.     Read on AO3! | Read on Asian Fanfics

Chan woke a hundred percent sure that every member of the group and likely half the staff, potentially half of Korea, knew about him and Changbin the next morning. There was no real reason why – he just felt like he’d be wearing some sign about their relationship on his forehead.

Despite his anxieties, none of the members gave any indication that they realized anything was different between the two rappers, save for a couple knowing smirks from Jisung when Changbin would ease himself into the line next to Chan or do his best to flatten him into a pancake with some form of overly aggressive hug during or after their games.

 During the drive home, Chan flopped into a seat next to Changbin, cuddling up to him despite Changbin’s groans of protest. He pulled out his phone, nudging Changbin until he looked over and smiled, raising his fingers in a peace sign to take a photo with him. Chan smiled softly at the photo. Changbin elbowed him lightly and leaned close to his ear so the others wouldn’t hear.

“Looks like a pretty cute couple.”

Chan’s smile widened. He tucked his chin down, his cheeks warming. He posted the photo quickly and looked out the window at the passing scenery, trying to still his racing heart. His phone buzzed in his palm and he glanced at it. It was a text from Jisung. He frowned and glanced back at him, but he was looking at Minho, nodding to something he was saying.

‘You two are really cute, man. Things got settled last night?’

Chan chuckled softly. ‘Nosy. Yeah they did. We talked for quite a while.’

The response came shortly after. ‘Will you tell the group soon? Subtlety is not his strong suit.’

Chan laughed, glancing at Changbin, who looked over from where he was watching something on Jeongin’s phone at the sound. “What?” He asked, brows raised. Chan laughed a little harder and shook his head. “Nothing to worry about.”

‘It’s not, but I think we’ll wait a while. Make sure things will work between us first before announcing it to the group. It’ll shift dynamics a little, so… Better to wait.’

‘Make sure it’ll work? Don’t think I didn’t see you two this morning all cuddled up naked under the covers. Your cameraman probably thinks I’m a lunatic with how aggressively I kept him out of the room until you woke up.’

‘Thanks for that by the way. But we weren’t NAKED. We had on our pajama bottoms.’

‘Just not the shirts, suspiciously.’

‘They got dirty. Don’t ask if you don’t want the gross details.’

Chan heard Jisung scoff and glanced back, winking at him. He rolled his eyes and tucked his phone away, signaling the end of their private conversation.

 The following week was decidedly mundane despite the looming first date that Chan and Changbin had agreed to. Practice, producing, interviews and meetings with staff – members hanging out with each other sometimes doing their best to avoid all others – almost nothing had changed.

Of course, Chan woke most mornings to find Changbin had crawled into the bed with him, and there were far more kisses snuck around corners or behind closed doors, but otherwise – things seemed relatively normal.

The two decided that – since Changbin was insistent on being with Chan while he changed on Sunday night, it would make more sense to do their first official date that night as well, partly for convenience – since they would already need to be out of the dorm – and partly to not seem quite so suspicious this early in their relationship.

As that day grew closer, Chan felt a slowly growing anxiety about it. The date itself he wasn’t so concerned; just another time hanging out in a lot of ways – but he’d never been with a human while changing before, and the last time he’d shown his wolf to Changbin it didn’t go well. Though he knew Changbin wanted to learn and was willing to try to get used to it, it still held the potential to bring up all of the negative feelings they’d worked so hard to get rid of.

 ***

 Sunday evening, Changbin knocked softly on Chan’s door before sticking his head in. “You good?”

“Mm, I’m good, just finishing up something,” Chan said, shifting the soundbyte displayed on his screen a hair. He pressed play, focusing on the spot he’d been working on, before nodding and saving it. He pulled the headphones off and rose from his chair, smiling at Changbin. “We good to go?”

“Yeah, are you ready?”

Chan nodded. He pulled open his closet and grabbed a plain hoodie and his baseball cap, tugging it on. On the way out he grabbed a mask, stuffing it into his pocket.

“You taking off for the night?” Jisung asked when they reached the sitting room. He was sprawled out on the couch, playing with something on his phone.

“Yeah, Changbin’ll be with me tonight so.”

Jisung looked up, smirking. “I’ll make sure nobody bothers you.”

Chan chuckled, shaking his head. “Changbin’ll have his phone. I won’t, as usual.”

“It must be something special,” Jisung commented. “You’ve never told us what you get up to your one night off a month.”

Chan smiled shyly and shrugged one shoulder.

Changbin grinned broadly. “I’m just that cool,” he teased.

Chan rolled his eyes and shoved Changbin forward, grabbing his keys as they left.

“I’ll drive,” Changbin said, snagging the keys from Chan as they headed down the back stairs.

“Where are we going?”

“Surprise.”

“Nowhere we’ll get easily recognized, right?” Chan worried. Changbin shook his head. “Doubtful. It’s a small place. I’ve gone with my dad a few times, usually pretty quiet.”

 The quiet place in question was a small bar in the tourist area of the city. The front was modest, especially compared to the nearby clubs. The two found a table in the back, ordering food and drinks.

“How’d you find this place?” Chan asked. “It’s really cute.”

“My dad found it. He wanted to visit this area one day and he asked me if I’d been here. I hadn’t and we were hungry so,” Changbin shrugged. “I haven’t seen too many people in here ever, even around lunch time. Which is a shame, the food is great.”

Chan nodded. “It smells delicious.” He bit his lip, glancing down at the table. The silence grew between them, heavy, until Chan chuckled and looked back up. “You know what? I’m actually really nervous. I know it’s stupid, we’ve known each other for years, but…” He shrugged.

Changbin sighed. “I’m glad you said it. I feel awkward.”

“Right?”

“Like I know everything about you probably—”

“Well, not everything,” Chan argued.

“But I still feel like this is some blind date,” Changbin continued, ignoring his interjection. Chan nodded.

“Yeah, it’s funny. I didn’t think anything would change from a normal night just hanging out. It hasn’t at home. But I guess this makes it more real. Being together alone rather than at the dorm.”

“Well, what would you normally do on a first date?” Changbin asked.

“Me?” Chan snorted. “I can count the number of first dates I’ve been on on one hand. And one of those was chaperoned by mine and the girl’s parents because we were children in Australia.”

Changbin laughed at that. “Really? No way. I thought you had a few more…”

“Nope. I had a crush on a couple of people in grade school back home, the chaperoned one when we were ten, and then a boy when I was twelve. And then once I came here, I was too busy. I hung out with a guy that was sort of a date, and a girl that I thought was a date, but she despised me after the first hour. And that’s about it.”

“What did you do to make her despise you?” Changbin asked, his eyes shining with interest.

Chan laughed, his face warming. “Ah, it’s embarrassing.”

“Exactly why you need to tell me. How old were you?”

“Fifteen. So, a trainee obviously but before you guys joined up.” He sighed heavily. “She was too, a trainee I mean. We went out to dinner, I thought it was great. Except I made one massive mistake.”

“Edge of my seat here. What did you do?”

Chan groaned, letting his head fall back. “Well, I used some of my pick-up lines on her. And unfortunately, they offended her.”

Changbin burst out laughing, covering his mouth quickly and bowing in apology toward the counter and workers. He leaned forward. “You didn’t. God, those horrible ones?”

Chan laughed, hiding his face in his hands. “Yes, those ones. Look, when I’m nervous and like someone, my go to is those. They used to make people laugh in Australia.”

“They were laughing at you, Chan, not with you,” Changbin said. Chan glared at him, chuckling a little.

The food arrived, stopping the conversation temporarily as the two ate, making content noises as they did. Chan couldn’t keep from glancing at Changbin as they did, his heart skipping a little step each time their eyes met. It was silly – this was no different than any other time they hung out, just the two of them, but it felt like so much more.

“Wait,” Changbin said suddenly. “The first time you and I hung out alone, you told me cheesy pickup lines.”

Chan hesitated. He smiled sheepishly and swallowed the food in his mouth. “I believe I did, yes.”

Changbin’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were just trying to be funny.”

Chan shrugged. “I was nervous.”

“Because you thought I was cute.”

“Maybe.” He paused. When it was obvious Changbin wasn’t going to give up, Chan rolled his eyes. “Yes, okay? I’ve had a crush on your stupid face since day one, happy?”

Changbin grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “I knew I was hot.”

Chan snorted, endeared. “You’ve always thought you were hot, you didn’t need my approval.”

“No, but it’s always nice to hear.”

Chan smiled softly. He ate quietly for a moment more. “So, what about you? Any dating horror stories?”

“Not really. I’m in the same boat as you, haven’t dated too many people. A couple of dates, a couple of hookups, nothing in the recent years since we’ve gotten busy.”

“Hookups?” Chan asked, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. Changbin nodded.

“Yeah, just like two, I think?” He tapped the back of his spoon against his chin as he thought. “Yeah, three times total.” He chuckled. “I told you I was no Casa Nova.”

Chan squirmed in his seat. “Girls or guys?”

“All guys.” Changbin laughed, wiping his mouth. “I’ve always been very, very gay.”

Chan chuckled, swallowing the lump in his throat. Changbin kicked his shin softly under the table, making him look back up to meet his gaze.

“What about you?”

“Me?” Chan look back down at his plate, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t really… I mean, I don’t actually, you know… Have any experience.”

“What?”

Chan winced, embarrassment deepening the red on his cheeks at the surprised inflection in Changbin’s voice. He shrugged timidly, afraid to look back up. “I just didn’t have time,” he mumbled. “And I was awkward so… It wasn’t easy to just… Find someone.”

“You’ve never done anything?”

“I’ve gotten oral once,” he said, realizing just how lame it sounded as soon as he spoke the words. “And of course, I’ve been kissed and stuff…” He pushed a bit of food around on his plate.

“Oh,” Changbin finally said. “I didn’t realize…”

Chan shrugged softly. He rolled his eyes up to see Changbin’s expression, but the other was looking down at his plate. A knot of worry formed in his stomach as they sat, the silence stretching between them.

Finally, Changbin cleared his throat, the noise loud in the quiet space. He looked up at Chan suddenly, and Chan met his gaze, his brows raised.

“Will this be a problem for us?” He asked, his voice firm.

“I—I don’t know,” Chan admitted, a little relived that Changbin asked the question on his mind.

“Does it bother you that I’ve been with people?”

“Me? No.” Chan said, shaking his head quickly. “I was thinking that you were bothered.”

“About what?”

“Me. Not having experience.” He shrugged. “I know that’s a place we’ll get to with our relationship and I don’t want you to be disappointed if I don’t perform as well as they did.”

A dimple carved into Changbin’s cheek as he grinned. He sat back, tilting his head to the side as he looked at Chan.

“What?” Chan finally asked, the stare intense enough to make him uncomfortable. Changbin leaned across the table, speaking softly.

“You’re really worried about that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I don’t care,” Changbin said. He laughed and shook his head. “I figured you had experience, but I didn’t think about it, really. It wasn’t a factor for me. I assumed we’d both kind of fumble through the first few times.”

Chan relaxed visibly, his shoulders slumping. “Thank God,” he whispered. “I’d kiss you right now if we weren’t in public… That’s a relief.”

Changbin’s grin grew again. He leaned back. “You can in the car. I can’t believe you were worried about that.”

“I wanted to impress you,” Chan muttered.

“What was that?” Changbin leaned forward a little, his bottom lip disappearing between his teeth. He nudged Chan’s leg with his foot again. “You, our grand leader and eldest, wanted to impress little old me?”

Chan glared. “I see now that was a mistake,” he teased. “The only thing that impresses you is a gym and a plate of food.”

Changbin’s grin widened, showing all his teeth. His nose wrinkled. “You’re a man after my heart, obviously. Or you just know me too well.”

Chan laughed despite himself, shaking his head.

Their meal ended with a relaxed air, the discomfort and awkwardness bleeding away as quickly as it had come on. As the night darkened around them, Chan felt the uncomfortable itching under his skin. He shifted in his chair, rubbing at his hoodie covered arms.

“You cold?” Changbin worried.

“No, it’s just…” Chan glanced up, spotting the moon hanging in the sky. “Getting to be that time.”

“You won’t wolf out while we’re in the car, will you?” Changbin asked, grabbing the meal ticket and digging in his wallet for his card.

Chan chuckled and shook his head. “No, I can resist for a bit longer. Just gets uncomfortable.”

“Well I’m done, so, we can head off, if you want?”

“Yeah, please.” He rose with Changbin and headed to the counter, trying not to pace or draw attention as Changbin paid and they headed out to the car.

“Where do you usually go to change?”

Chan told him the park, peeling off his hoodie and scratching at his arms.

“Any particular parking area?”

“I’ll let you know the way once we’re there. It’s pretty secluded, I’ve never had trouble.”

Changbin nodded, heading into traffic and turning toward the park in question. He kept glancing over at Chan, concern etched on his features even from the side.

“I’m okay,” Chan promised, smiling. “It’s just very itchy, like you rolled in poison ivy or something.”

“That sounds awful… What happens if you don’t change during a month?”

Chan grimaced. “Agony. My wolf will try to force the change, which means I either have to give in and have a very painful change, or I spend the whole night fighting my body. There’s a span of three nights that I can change during the full moon, tonight is the first. This is pretty mild – he’ll be grumpy if I skip the change tonight, but it gets progressively worse as the nights go. If I fight it through all three nights, he’ll be a lot harder to control.”

“What’s that mean?”

“More aggressive wolf, less likely to let me control him while he’s changed, a higher risk of him taking over when I do change again.”

Changbin looked over, and Chan didn’t need a wolf’s nose to know that was fear in his eyes.

“I’ve never had it happen,” Chan promised. “I always change within the three days, I’ve never lost control completely. It slips a little sometimes, but I’m never out of control completely.”

“You said changing more often does it too,” Changbin said. Chan nodded.

“Yeah. This change will be a little more active, probably, so I have to work to keep him on a leash – excuse the pun.” He chuckled a little. “But it’ll be safe. He just wants to run, there’s no emotions blurring anything.”

“For a wolf I guess… Human emotions would be confusing.”

“Sometimes. They get boiled down into really simple emotions. Joy, contentedness, rage, lust. Some are harder to control than others, but for the most part… We’ve had decades to figure out our language. Turn up here and go forward.”

Changbin did as he was told. Chan hugged himself, willing his wolf to stay calm. The nerves he felt about changing in front of a human were blending with the general adrenaline of changing. The last thing he wanted to do was terrify him again.

“Right here, there’s a parking lot, go to the farthest corner.”

Changbin parked and Chan grabbed the door handle. He paused then, tensing every muscle he could to not bolt from the car.

“Listen… You really don’t have to do this,” he said softly. “You can leave me, I’ll be okay.”

Changbin set his hand on Chan’s arm, his touch searing hot to Chan’s oversensitive skin. “Do you not want me here?”

“No, it’s not that,” Chan tried to measure his breaths. “I just don’t want to scare you.”

“I get that. But this is a part of you, Chan. I don’t feel like it’s fair to you to be with someone who’s scared of such an important piece of your life. I can’t get used to this unless I try, right?”

Chan chewed the inside of his lip a moment before nodding.

“Come on, you look miserable.” He squeezed his arm before climbing out of the car and reaching into the backseat, grabbing a cross body bag. Chan stepped out and motioned to the bag.

“I figured I could hold onto your clothes and stuff, so you don’t have to drop them in the dirt.” Changbin explained.

“Good idea. Um… The trunk. There’s a blanket, might want to bring that too.”

“For what?”

“My wolf is out all night. You’re welcome to go home but you have my car so… If you want to stay out, might want a clean spot to lay down, relax.”

Changbin nodded. He locked the doors and went to the trunk, opening it and pulling out a neatly rolled blanket. He tucked it into the bag and then placed his phone and the car keys into a pocket of it as well, shutting the trunk. “You lead the way.”

Chan hurried into the woods, the path nearly second nature to him by now despite it not being any normally walked path. He slowed down when he heard Changbin swear. A glance back confirmed that he was struggling, fighting his way through the brush as he tried to keep up with Chan’s pace.

“Sorry.”

“You’re okay, just know if I get lost, you have to find me. Hope your nose is good.”

“Found you once, didn’t I?” Chan asked, waiting for Changbin to catch up before proceeding a little more slowly.

“Which reminds me, I wanted to ask, do any of your wolf traits hang around when you’re human?”

“Like?”

“I don’t know. Nose or vision or… I don’t know, anything?”

“Not really. I’m aware of how things would be as a wolf, so like – I see how a human sees but I also know that a wolf would see the colors differently or things like that. But it’s not something that’s active when I’m human. My dad told me that I can train myself to bring out certain traits without bringing out my whole wolf. Like, he says he keeps his wolf’s sense of smell, because he likes it more. But I’ve never tried.”

“What do I smell like?”

Chan smiled to himself, his heart skipping a beat. “It’s really hard to explain. I can smell all of the different aspects of you – the different layers in the cologne you wear, your shampoo and body wash, even the laundry detergent we use, and then under all that your natural body’s smell.”

“You saying I stink?” Changbin shouted, startling some birds nearby. Chan laughed.

“No, you smell really nice actually. Your natural pheromones are…” He paused, not sure how to word it.

“What?” Changbin asked, catching up to him and bumping their shoulders.

Chan shook his head. “I can’t really say. It’s not a smell you’d smell as a human. And everyone is very distinct. There’s something that’s always been comforting about yours. I guess… Warm? Would be how I would explain it. It gives me a full body feeling rather than just smelling it.”

“What do the other members smell like?”

“Felix is sweet,” Chan said quickly. “It’s almost cloying, like a super sugary candy. He hugged me once before I went to change and I had to almost bury my clothes to get the scent to stop lingering.”

Changbin laughed. “Sounds like Felix.”

“Minho is sort of…” He drifted off, trying to come up with a way to explain it that Changbin would understand. “Woodsy, I guess? Like… Not like he’s wearing woody cologne but just…” He inhaled, motioning to the trees. “Like this. Home-like, for my wolf. Jisung smells spicy, like I just inhaled a pile of hot peppers, it’s unnerving.” He chuckled a little. “Hyunjin smells like… A cold winter morning. Clean and fresh and cool. Jeongin smells like a puppy.”

“A puppy?” Changbin interjected.

“Yeah, not in the way you would think a puppy smells, but he just smells… Youthful and… I can only describe it as a puppy, or a kid, I guess? I’ve heard people say babies have a certain smell that isn’t like, the stink of their diaper or something – it’s like that. It’s because he’s so young, all the members had that smell at some point, before you guys really outgrew that puberty smell. He’s developing his own scent, but it’ll be a while before I can discern it. Seungmin just outgrew his, actually. Now he smells like, hm… I don’t know how to say it without sounding mean. He smells like city. Or oil, or grease – It’s not pleasant but it’s him, so I don’t mind it. We’re here.”

He stepped into a small circular clearing, only about ten feet at its widest. The trees surrounding it showed signs of scratching and wear, and there were a few spots near the trees where holes had been dug.

“You’ve been coming here the whole time you’ve been in Korea?”

“Almost. I change it up sometimes, and of course if we happen to be overseas during a change, then no. But… Mostly, yeah. It’s my safe space.”

Chan stripped his shirt off as he stepped into the center of the clearing. Changbin followed, taking his shirt and tucking it into the bag. Chan pulled his sneakers off and shoved his socks into them, stripping out of his jeans and boxers. He folded them messily and passed them over to Changbin, who put them in the bag as well. He grabbed Chan’s sneakers and pushed them into the bag, arranging it so the clothes wouldn’t be under them. He moved them over next to a nearby tree, crossing his arms.

“What now?”

“Now I change,” Chan said, feeling strangely exposed. “Um… It looks worse than it is. You might not want to watch. It’s not pleasant.”

“I’ll look away if it’s too much.”

Chan chewed his lip for a second, watching Changbin. His wolf was positively writhing at this point, desperate to get free. He sighed, closing his eyes and nodding to himself. Sinking down to sit on the ground, he relaxed, letting his wolf surge forward.

 Though this change wasn’t any worse than his others, it felt like it was agonizingly slow. He was distinctly aware of every frightening crack of his bones or cry from his mouth. He desperately wanted to check on Changbin, hoping he’d looked away, but could do nothing but remain on the ground as his body aligned itself into the new shape.

When it finished, Chan rose slowly, shaking himself from nose to tail. He sneezed, blinking a few times to adjust to the new sight. A strong, bitter smell struck his nose, burning and making him bristle. That was terror. And it was coming from Changbin. He looked up at him slowly, his ears flattening to his head. Changbin’s back was pressed tightly against the tree, the bag held across his chest like a shield. His eyes were wide, lips parted as he gasped for air.

Chan whined, trying to shrink his posture. He lowered himself further, dropping into a lying position. He whined once more, reaching one paw toward Changbin before bringing it back and resting his head on his paws. The acrid stench of fear wasn’t disappating, and he could hear Changbin’s rapid breathing. Pain cut through him, drawing a long, keening whine from him. He wanted to cry – this wasn’t how it should be. Changbin was terrified, and he was the one causing it.

Chan rose slowly, hating the way Changbin flinched, pressing himself tighter to the tree. He backed up slowly, keeping his head down. Confusion blurred his thinking, not knowing what he could do. He couldn’t shift back now, not until the moon set. He could leave, he supposed, just duck into the woods and run until he couldn’t smell how scared Changbin was. But would Changbin know the way back to the car? Would he get lost trying to follow Chan? The risk was too great.

Chan finally turned, walking into the trees. He sank down into a lying position again. He could still smell Changbin, though he couldn’t see him through the bushes. He could hear him if he moved though, which meant he could track him if he did head back to the car.

Though he tried to remain quiet, making himself as small as possible so Changbin might think he left, he couldn’t help the soft whines that escaped his throat. He desperately wished to be separate from his wolf for that moment, if only to hug the strong animal, cry into the warm fur coating his skin. He was sad, but he could process the emotions, understand the context. His wolf – as smart as he was – only knew that Changbin was scared, and he couldn’t fix it. Changbin – who his wolf had already begun to see as a mate – was terrified of him.

“Chan?” Changbin’s voice was audibly shaky.

Chan heard leaves crunch under his feet as he approached where Chan had disappeared into the trees.

He slunk back a little further, whining softly.

“Chan, did you leave?” Changbin asked, a little louder. “Can you hear me?”

Chan sighed. He rose slowly, plodding forward.

Changbin was standing in the center of the clearing, still hugging the bag, when Chan emerged from the bushes. He jumped visibly when he spotted Chan, swearing.

“I thought you left me,” he muttered. Chan lowered his head. He tried to shake his head no, unsure if the message got across. He leaned forward on his front paws, crossing one over the other in an X shape. He looked up at Changbin, wondering if he’d understand.

Changbin swallowed hard, still staring wide eyed at Chan.

Chan moved forward slowly, and Changbin backed up, keeping the distance between them. Chan sighed again. He walked to a spot of dirt, staring at it. He reached one paw out, carefully moving it to draw what he hoped were legible letters. He backed up when he finished, sneezing and angling his snout at the spot.

Changbin stepped forward, tilting his head as he looked.

“G.O. Go?” He looked at Chan, brows furrowing. “Go?”

Chan sneezed, nodding. He pointed his head to the place they’d entered.

“You want me to leave?” Changbin asked.

Chan sneezed again.

Changbin scowled. He looked at the bag in his arms then up at Chan. “I can’t, I have your stuff.”

Chan sighed heavily. He walked over and pawed a spot in front of a tree before backing up again. Changbin went over, pulling the bag off and setting it where Chan had pawed. He pulled his phone and the keys out of it, keeping his eyes on Chan the entire time. Chan hung his head, ears and tail drooping. He backed up, moving slowly so as not to spook Changbin, and curled into a ball next to the bushes. He closed his eyes, burying his nose under his tail as he tried to ignore the ache in his chest. He could hear Changbin moving slowly, pacing the clearing, always keeping a wide berth around him.

This was worse, Chan decided. Having Changbin not speaking to him, just hating him completely, was so much better than this. Smelling his fear, wanting to comfort him, to make it better, and knowing that anything he did would make it worse, this was shattering his heart.

Changbin’s footsteps faded away, and Chan heard branches rustle as he ducked back into the woods. He continued to listen for a few minutes, until the footsteps faded farther and farther, blending in with the noises of the woods. Only then did he rise and pad over to the bag. He grabbed it and dragged it over the spot he’d been lying, curling up around it and burying his snout in it. He whined softly, Changbin’s scent filling his nose. He wondered if his wolf could cry, or if the ache in his eyes was his own human side.

Would this be the end of their short-lived romance, he wondered. Changbin had been correct in the car – his wolf was a huge part of him, and his wolf needed that same affection he felt with the one he stayed with. He’d hoped it wouldn’t be the case, but this pain wasn’t just his own, he knew as he laid there. He was holding the heartache for two souls.

[more-than-a-princess]

@from-across-the-stars​ asked:  “Your life story isn’t news.” //from gundham uwu

“I know you from the news” starters

"Unfortunately, I do not think everyone shares your view," Sonia told him simply, staring after the girl who now skittered away, a bit deflated by her interaction with the Princess. She wasn't about to let such an event spoil their lunch. At least the Dark Devas seemed unperturbed by the interruption, which she was grateful for.

Sitting outside the Main Course building with Gundham, it had been her first task to divest her sandwich, made with some sort of multi-grain bread, of all of the sunflower seeds baked into its crust. Four pairs of beady, pleading eyes would not let her enjoy her meal otherwise: bento boxes would have dissuaded them, Sonia thought, but that afternoon she'd had a craving for a taste of home. Even if it would involve sharing her meal with hamsters. And they were all about to eat in peace, Sonia so close to indulging the taste of melted cheese and basil when...

...a familiar dustjacket had been all but thrust before her blue eyes. Glancing to the book's source, she found a fellow member of Hope's Peak's Main Course, another Ultimate just like them, holding out a copy of the latest authorized biography of the Novoselic Royal Family and eagerly awaiting the Ultimate Princess's response to sign it. The other girl was eager, too: despite her own talent and reasons to attend the school, she seemed to have a fascination with royals and royal life in general. It had taken nearly five minutes for Sonia to decline the autograph (she wasn't permitted to give her signature unless the Royal Family allowed it), decline a photo (for the same reason), and answer, as concisely and politely as possible, the various questions she had about the Princess of Novoselic and her life back home. The sorts of people she knew, the places she visited, what her family owned and how much influence she'd have on politics and high society upon completing her studies.

Sonia, mercifully, had been spared from the book's official release: having been deemed not important enough to take the future Queen away from her schooling and official duties in Japan, she thought she'd avoided another bout with the press, complete with photo calls and recorded interviews, until her own fellow students had decided to take the task up themselves. She was familiar with the Japanese obsession with France and French culture, to the point the Japanese government had a dedicated office to field crushing disappointments from their citizens' first trips to France and having their fashionable visions dashed, but the royal fascination in Japan was still somewhat new to her.

A learning experience, King Alexandre of Novoselic had insisted upon her initial departure from home. One that she would have faced, with some reluctance but nevertheless, outside of the school's gates.

"I really just wanted a normal school experience here," She continued, one finger reaching out to pet San-D on the head. At least she seemed to be content with the strange turn of events that had derailed a quiet lunch. "My life shouldn't be news, and yet it never fails to become such. Perhaps I shouldn't have made my parents agree to keep Royal security off school grounds and for official events only, but if they were here I think my title would be more of a spectacle."

She sighed, though her attention was diverted to the hamsters. Setting her uneaten sandwich point aside, she reached out with both hands to offer pets to any of the Devas who wanted them. "I envy you sometimes," She smiled, though it lacked its usual luster, "When animals adore you, they adore you for you and the kindness you bestow upon them. Nothing more...it is just who you are that they want and need, and not what you are."

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 18

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

——-

CHAPTER 18: AFFETUOSO

 Music glossary:

 Affetuoso: to perform with passion and emotion

**Chapter illustration by @corgi-likes-chat​ **

----

(Mood Music: “Christofori’s Dream” - David Lanz)

Adrien’s eyelids fluttered open, a sleepy smile still present on his face. He breathed out a long, contented sigh, stretching his limbs out wide enough that they poked out of the bedcovers. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so well.

Last night, after Marinette awoke him from his most harrowing night terror to date, he’d fallen back asleep and something remarkable happened: for the second time in years, he’d actually had a pleasant dream. The only other time he hadn’t suffered from his usual nightmares ever since becoming Chat Noir was on the first night that he’d arrived at the Dupain-Cheng residence.

He tried to think back, wondering what might have caused this, not just last night, but back on that first day Marinette had brought him home. What did these two occurrences have in common?

His mouth quirked to the side and his brow furrowed, deep in thought, trying to remember. He wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind when he’d arrived a couple of months back, given all that had happened when he ran away from his father; so it was no surprise that his memory of that night was hazy at best. Nevertheless, he hoped to find a correlation; if there was one, maybe he could figure out how to repeat it.

His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle hand sliding across his midsection. Disturbed by his movements, a smaller body rolled toward him, settling comfortably on his chest and breathing out a drowsy sigh.

He looked down and there she was: sweet, lovely Marinette; one of the dearest and most important people in his life. The raven-haired girl stirred, letting out a small whine; Adrien stilled, subconsciously holding his breath, not wanting to wake her and accidentally reveal his identity.

This became much harder when she reached around him, her fingers lightly skimming across his rib cage. His muscles tensed and he bit back a laugh; why did he have to be so darn ticklish?!

He readjusted himself, trying to shuffle out from underneath her; but she clinged to him like an overgrown barnacle, even in her unconscious state. I guess she’s a cuddler, he thought, and he couldn’t help but smile about how well that suited her.

It was still pretty dark in the room, as the sun hadn’t risen yet. He glanced over at the wall clock; he still had about an hour and a half before he had to report to work at the bakery, so he didn’t have to rush to get ready. Relieved, he sagged back down onto his pillow. He could relax for a little longer, he supposed.

Deciding to check his notifications while Marinette slept, he gingerly reached towards his nightstand to grab his phone, careful not to disturb her. He’d deactivated all his social media accounts since running away from home, so there weren’t very many notifications; there was a school-related email and a couple of late night funny memes from Nino.

Adrien checked the Ladyblog next. No news about any akumas this morning, thankfully. However, there were a few blurry snapshots of the previous night’s attack. He scrolled down for a bit, then stopped, his eyes popping open as he focused his attention on a particular photo.

He couldn’t suppress the lovestruck sigh that escaped his lips when he stared at a picture of Ladybug. His Lady was breathtaking, her eyes so ethereal, her smile utterly resplendent. She was indescribably beautiful, both inside and out and there was absolutely nothing he would change about her. He was hopelessly smitten, no doubt about it.

A few months ago, he would have berated himself for feeling this way about his mortal enemy. But his entire life had been turned upside down since then, and he wholeheartedly embraced this unexpected development.

The next photo was taken after the akuma was purified and the Miraculous Cure had set everything back to where it should be. Ladybug had seen that Alya was about to snap a photo, so she grabbed Chat and turned him around to face the camera, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. She grinned widely, and did a peace sign with her free hand. So cute.

He glanced over to his own face and instinctively grimaced. He was winking at the camera with a goofy, cheerful salute, not bothering to channel the suave, sophisticated mannerisms of a proper model that he’d incurred over the years. God, I’m so cringy, he thought.

Nevertheless, he saved the picture onto his phone. It was the first photo of them together like this, as opposed to impersonal ones taken by the media from afar, or during press releases and interviews.

It had only been posted a few hours ago, but already it had thousands of likes and comments. He didn’t dare look through those, however. Not since he first discovered the kinds of things people wrote about Chat Noir, both before and after his change in alliances. It was better to avoid those, lest he ruin his day reading about how much some people still hated him.

But he remembered Marinette’s words from the night before. She was right; he had to have hope, and believe that things would slowly get better. Attitude was everything.

Speaking of Marinette…

He looked down at his roommate once again. By this point, she’d slinked and climbed almost entirely on top of him, utilizing him like a mattress. His eyebrows scrunched together, and he wondered how in the world he’d be able to slip out of bed undetected.

All the stealth-based videogames I’ve ever played have prepared me for this moment. I got this!! he thought, hyping himself up.

Taking a deep breath in, he rolled over to his side, managing to slide Marinette’s ragdoll-like form back onto the mattress. She made a small noise and he froze, electricity crawling up the back of his neck. A few tense moments passed, and her stirring subsided, her breathing becoming slow and even once again. He exhaled, just now realizing he’d been holding his breath.

Freedom!! Adrien celebrated as he stood, stretching his arms high over his head, taking care not to hit the ceiling lights. His skin felt grimy with dried sweat from the night before; a shower was exactly what he needed right now. He tiptoed over to get a change of clothes from the dresser, giving the occasional glance towards the bed to make sure Marinette was still asleep.

As he made his way to the bathroom, he stopped by her side, a warm smile spreading across his face. He bent over and gave the top of her head a small kiss. Where would he be without her and her family? She and Sabine especially went out of their way to help him feel at home, to make him feel like he belonged, instead of treating him like a nuisance, or like some freeloader just taking up space. He loved them all so much; he vowed to himself to make it up to them someday.

He pulled the bedcovers up to Marinette’s shoulders so she wouldn’t miss the extra warmth too much, then made his way to the bathroom to start the day.

--

Marinette stirred, enveloped in softness and a familiar scent of spice and fresh rain. Eyes still closed, she extended her arm, reaching for the oversized cat pillow on her bed that she always liked to cuddle.

Her searching hand found something soft. Aha! She brought it closer, snuggling it tight, then began to get comfortable again. But then, her pillow started poking her cheek, over and over and over. The pillow’s poking only intensified when she tried squeezing it even harder. How rude!

Wait... what?

A single eyelid groggily slid open, meeting a small pair of eyes of a distinctive shade of green. A rather frazzled-looking Plagg stared back, his expression unamused from being squished between her and the pillow she was hugging.

“Sorry, Plagg,” she slurred sleepily as she pulled away to give him some space. “What are you doing here?”

He crossed his little arms, raising a brow. “I live here, remember?”

“But why are you in my room–– oh, wait…” she stopped, the memory of last night starting to rush back to her. This wasn’t her room; it was Chat’s. She’d slept in his room last night. And the bed she was lying in was his bed. These were his blankets and pillows, and they carried his scent. Heat rose to her face and a multitude of imaginary butterflies swarmed in her stomach as she realized that she’d actually spent the night with him, albeit under less than ideal circumstances.

And then a second realization dawned on her: Chat Noir was gone.

She sat up with a start, her head whipping back and forth to search for him. As she was about to panic, she heard the shower running in the en suite bathroom, punctuated by some cheerful humming. With a heavy, relieved sigh, she laid back down, careful not to squish the tiny cat god next to her.

“By the way, Little Bug,” Plagg murmured, meekly rubbing the back of his head. “Thanks for helping my kid last night.”

“Oh, of course, Plagg!” she replied. “I’m always happy to help however I can.”

He gave her a melancholy smile. “I just wish there was more I could’ve done. I tried waking him up myself, but he couldn’t hear me at all, no matter how hard I tried.” He sighed, twisting his mouth into a pained frown. “He doesn’t deserve this. He's already gone through so much.”

“Plagg, no, it’s okay! You did your best, and I’m sure Chat knows that too. I’m just glad I was able to get through to him. It was lucky that I happened to be downstairs at that time. Chat couldn’t ask for a better friend than you.”

Plagg grinned widely at her. “I always knew I liked you,” he remarked, scooting closer and nuzzling into her.

Marinette smiled back, returning the hug and kissing the top of his head, followed by providing him with some gentle scratches behind the ears. He let out a small, contented purr as he leaned into her hand.

After a few moments of hesitation, Plagg spoke again, “Little Bug, there’s... something else you need to know.”

They pulled apart, and Marinette eyed him with trepidation. “What is it?”

“It was too dark, so you didn’t see it, but–” he said with a grim tone in his voice, “–I need to let you know what really happened last night.”

“Huh?” Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “What do you mean? I know he said his night terrors aren’t usually this bad, but was there something else?”

A dark look flickered on Plagg’s face. “Hawkmoth tried to akumatize him last night.”

Marinette felt like she’d been dropped into a vat of ice water. “W- WHAT?!” she sputtered. “B-but how is that possible?! Akumatized?? He was asleep! Hawkmoth can’t akumatize people who are unconscious!!” She paused, pondering the possibility. “Right…?”

“It’s tricky, but not impossible,” Plagg replied. “Hawkmoth knows about Chat Noir’s nightmares, so he must’ve sensed his opportunity and finally taken it last night.”

Marinette brought a hand to her temple in disbelief.

Plagg continued, “I don’t know why he decided to try it now, instead of when he first ran away. And what if–” he gulped, and his voice quavered slightly as he continued, unable to conceal his fear, “What if he tries it again? What if he tries it every night?”

“No… he wouldn’t… he can’t!!” Marinette cried, staring at the bathroom door, her mind racing a million miles a minute. She clenched her fists as she tried not to give into the feelings of dismay and anxiety that were clawing away at her. “Plagg… What do we do?! Hawkmoth’s patterns seem to be getting more erratic and desperate recently. Is he under some kind of deadline? Why is he doing this??”

“I can think of a couple of reasons,” Tikki answered from across the room.

Marinette practically leaped off the bed in surprise due to Tikki’s abrupt entrance. “Tikki!” she exclaimed.

The brightly colored kwami hovered towards them and elaborated, “Firstly, as Chat grows older, his powers will continue to get stronger, as will yours, so you’ll be more difficult for Hawkmoth to defeat as time goes on. Secondly, I think the effects of misusing the butterfly miraculous must be catching up to him as well. His desperation suggests that maybe he thinks he’s running out of time.”

“Out of time? What do you mean?” Marinette asked, confused.

Plagg sighed. “It’s his health,” he answered. "He wasn’t doing very well even before we left. Slowly but steadily, it’s been getting worse for a while.” He turned to face Tikki. “You think Hawkmoth believes that he’s gonna… you know... soon?”

Tikki shrugged in response, her expression blank.

“Oh… I see,” Marinette said, her voice almost a whisper.

Her mind raced, a torrent of emotions crashing into her simultaneously, like a rowboat in a tempest, slamming into a cliffside without respite.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about this new information. Her chest felt tight, like it did when she wanted to cry. Should she feel happy or sad that her mortal enemy was getting sicker and sicker, to the point where his life was potentially in danger? Was it okay to feel–dare she say it– relieved?

What was she supposed to think? As a hero, was it more important to be merciful, or was it more important to be just? Her heart felt like it was being pulled in two completely opposite directions. Despite hating the man with every fiber of her being, part of her thought that maybe dying was too extreme a punishment. And yet, at the same time, the hurt, embittered part of herself thought that maybe dying would be too easy, like he was getting let off the hook instead of being forced to acknowledge his wrongs and feel remorse for the horrible things he’d done.

For years, she’d dreamed about the day when Hawkmoth would be defeated and his miraculous confiscated. It was supposed to be a happy time, full of rejoicing and excitement. But she’d never considered the possibility that Hawkmoth would be defeated by an entirely different force, one that she had no say in how or when it happened. It didn’t feel fair. She hated feeling this powerless.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a brief tug at her sleeve. She looked down at Tikki, who motioned towards the bathroom with a small nod. It was then that she noticed the noise–or rather– the absence of it, which could only mean one thing: Chat Noir had finished his shower, and he’d be coming out of the bathroom any minute now.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” Tikki whispered.

Marinette nodded. She turned to Plagg and whispered, “We’ll talk more later. I’ll call Master Fu later today and see if he has any advice.”

“M’kay. See ya,” he replied with a small wave. “Bye, Sugarcube.”

Tikki looked back and gave him a reassuring smile, then followed Marinette out the door.

Plagg hovered towards the windowsill while he waited for his charge, plopping down with a heavy sigh. He leaned against the window, taking in the many colors of the dawn sky, which looked almost too bright and vibrant for his liking. How dare the heavens look so beautiful while he felt so miserable inside? The day hadn’t even really started, and yet the only thing he wanted to do was to just crawl back into bed. He dearly hoped that the heavy, uneasy feeling in his gut would go away soon.

(A short while later)

Work at the bakery had been lively and hectic today; so much so that Chat Noir had to be reminded when his shift was over and that he needed to head to school. He gave Sabine a parting hug, the latter thanking him for his hard work and giving him some encouraging words as she helped dust the flour off his suit and hair.

Chat retrieved his cloak from a coat hanger by the door and stepped into the stairwell that led to the living quarters, so that he could retrieve his school supplies and exit through Marinette’s balcony trap door as he normally did. That was definitely one of the plus sides of working in the kitchen while transformed; he could wear his school outfit underneath and not require a change of clothes or a shower when he was through. He could merely detransform and be good as new.

As he ascended up the stairs, he heard a familiar deep voice call out to him from below. Chat froze, then turned around, trying to keep his nerves under control.

“Could I speak with you for a minute?” Tom asked.

Uh-oh.

“O-of course, Mr. Dupain,” Chat replied, trying to keep his voice even despite his nerves.

Tom’s face was mostly neutral, but his body was rigid and there was a hint of gloom in his eyes. Chat did his best not to cringe as he stood in front of the much taller man who, despite not being a superhero, looked like he could toss him clear to the Eiffel Tower if he felt like it. To prevent himself from fidgeting, Chat finally opted to stick his hands inside his pockets.

“What is it, sir? D-did I do something wrong?” he asked. “I was running a bit late, so I apologize if I didn’t put something back in the right spot. O-or did I mess up an order?? I’m sorry, I can go back and fix… whatever it is!”

“No, everything’s fine; it’s something else,” he answered, and Chat felt the stiffness in his shoulders ease a tiny bit.

However, it came back full force when Tom didn’t say anything else. Chat’s heartbeat sped up as they stood face to face in silence, unsure of the route this conversation was about to take.

What else could he be in trouble for? Did he find out Marinette had fallen asleep in his bedroom yesterday? Oh no… Did Tom think he and Marinette had… done something unseemly together last night?! Was he getting kicked out of the house?? His mind raced and his chest thumped, and he prepared himself to beg on his knees for forgiveness if need be.

A few agonizingly long and awkward seconds later, Tom spoke again, “Chat Noir… I wanted to apologize to you.”

“Oh, I see. Wait… WHAT?!?” Chat felt like someone had yanked the carpet out from underneath him. “Apologize?? What for?”

Tom lifted his arm to rub the back of his head, his entire posture taut as a bowstring. “We didn’t really get off on the right foot, you and I. You’ve been nothing but cordial and polite, and all I’ve done since you arrived is give you the cold shoulder, and for that I’m truly sorry. I wanted to clear the air and start over, if that’s okay with you.”

“Mr. Dupain! N-no, please, it’s okay!” Chat sputtered, his hands waving frantically. “I totally understand why you would have reservations about me living here, o-or even interacting with you guys at all! They’re totally justified concerns! I mean, up until a few months ago, I was still working with Hawkmoth; so the fact that you even allowed me into your home at all is incredibly kind of you! I’ve never felt any ill will towards you, I swear! You were just doing what any good father would––” he trailed off, trying to keep the melancholy out of his voice, “–would do.”

Tom winced and sighed heavily, crossing his arms. “That’s exactly my point, though. It may have been justified at first, but that was back then . I tolerated you for the sake of my wife and daughter, but I was always suspicious. I should’ve given you a chance instead of just judging you for no reason, especially after all this time. So I wanted to try to make it up to you.”

It was then that Tom brought something shiny out of his shirt pocket. It was an adorable little keychain shaped like a croissant. But wait… no, it wasn’t just a keychain, Chat realized. There was a key dangling on the end. A house key. Tom handed it over, doing his best to try to conceal a timid smile.

Chat gaped at him, reeling from what was happening. “I… I don’t know what to say. That is so generous of you! Thank you, Mr. Dupain,” he replied meekly, staring into his hands at the key. HIS key.

He felt the man’s large hand pat him on the shoulder and Chat looked up, meeting his soft, forest green eyes. “Please, call me Tom.”

Chat had to consciously fight the urge to let his jaw drop. If he wasn’t dreaming last night with Ladybug’s revelation, he was surely dreaming now. “Y-yes, sir! Uhh, Mr. Tom, sir. Uhh, I mean…” he stammered, still not recovered from having been gobsmacked out of nowhere.

The older man gave out a hearty laugh. “Just Tom. And please, if there’s anything you need, just say the word. Even if it’s just someone to lend an ear. You’ve got a good heart despite the bad hand that’s been dealt to you, and you have so much potential. We’re happy to have you in our family, even if you’re only here temporarily. Just know you’ll always have a home here with us.”

Chat’s heart swelled with affection, so full that it felt like it might burst, and his eyesight became blurry with unshed tears. He threw his arms around the giant man in front of him, someone who he never thought would fully accept him, squeezing hard.

“Thank you, Tom! Thank you so much, I’m just–” he let out a shuddering sigh then continued, voice cracking, “–thank you.”

Tom squeezed back firmly, giving him an affectionate pat. Failing to hide a sniffle, he then added, “I should let you get going, I don’t wanna make you late for school.” The pair pulled apart, and Tom ruffled Chat’s hair. “Be safe out there, kiddo.”

After saying their goodbyes, Chat bounded up the stairs, practically floating with glee. He’d missed this feeling; the feeling of being part of a family. As he emerged onto the rooftop balcony, he took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, his heart full of excitement and hope.

He arrived at the school in high spirits and a huge grin on his face. He detransformed in a discreet location and practically skipped to the school’s entrance; then he entered the campus, carefree, joyful, and blissfully unaware of the dark eyes that followed him inside.

[fruitcoops]

Ok so what sbout remus/sirius being too sick to go to an away game so the other one has to go alone, and then tons of facetime conversations and "get well soon" videos from the team?

This is related to this fic about Remus and Finn bonding over terrible reporters--hope you enjoy! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, and the Loops/ Talker bonding is for @lee-1012!

TW for illness

“You don’t look so good.” Remus frowned as he held the inside of his wrist against Sirius’ forehead. “And you definitely have a fever.”

“Non.” Sirius sat up on his elbows with a groan, then almost immediately flopped back down.

“Yes.” He leaned back on his heels and checked the clock—they had two hours before they had to be at the airport. “Baby, I don’t think you should—”

“ ‘m going.”

“It’s not a good—”

“Gotta go. Games.” Sirius cracked one glassy eye open. “Two weeks away. I’ll take the first couple days off.”

Remus sighed through his nose and brushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “You shouldn’t go on the plane if you’re sick. Not just for your sake, but for the rest of us. We don’t need everyone to come down with this.”

He received a halfhearted glare in response, but Sirius finally huffed and curled on his side to nuzzle against his thigh. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, baby,” Remus said quietly, bending to kiss his temple. They hadn’t been apart for that long since before he was a player, nearly a year prior. Hell, he had never played a game without Sirius, let alone two weeks’ worth. “Lily will check on you, okay?”

Sirius mumbled an incoherent response and cuddled closer when he began combing his fingers through his hair. The second alarm beeped, loud against the quiet of their bedroom; time to go, he thought ruefully. Sirius touched his knee as he started to stand. “Love you. Be safe.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you most.”

“Go back to sleep,” Remus said as his heart clenched. “I’ll let Coach know what happened, but you’ve got to rest and take care of yourself. Hydrate or die-drate, yeah?”

“Yeah. Love you.”

“Sleep,” he repeated, kissing his forehead once more before hauling himself out of bed and tucking the covers around Sirius’ shoulders. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

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

The clouds were a soft, pastel pink around them as the sun rose—Sirius’ favorite. If his phone was correct, Lily would be there soon to let Hattie out and make sure Sirius wasn’t pushing himself too hard. The thought brought Remus a bit of relief, but not enough to quell his concern.

Talker poked his forearm, snapping him from his reverie. “What’s going on?”

“Just worrying.”

“About Cap?”

Remus waved a hand vaguely. “And Hattie, and Lily, and whether he’s got a cold or something worse. Feels weird being here without him.”

Talker hummed his agreement and offered one of his earbuds. “Want to listen to half of Bohemian Rhapsody with me? It’ll give you five minutes and 55 seconds of relative peace.”

“It’s too quiet,” James groaned just before he pressed ‘play’.

Across the aisle, Remus saw Kasey roll his eyes. “Your husband is sick, dude, not dead. He doesn’t talk to you on planes anyway.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Bliz.”

“Oh my god,” Kasey muttered under his breath, securing his headphones tightly over his ears.

James let his head flop to the side with a baleful look. “Loops, you’re on my side, right?”

“I’ve got you, buddy,” he assured him. Talker stifled a laugh, and the opening chords began as more clouds rolled past. Remus let himself drift with them, taking deep breaths to soothe his worries; Sirius would be fine. He had the sniffles, or at worst the flu, and he would be join them for the second week in top form. There was nothing to worry about.

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

“He’s got pneumonia,” Lily sighed.

“He what?”

“A mild case, but the doctor said it would take a week of antibiotics and rest before he’s close to a hundred percent. No hockey for about a month, too.”

Remus stared at the wall of his empty hotel room, lost for words. “Well, fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

“Pretty m—absolutely not, go lay down.” There was a rustling noise and two grumbling voices. “Sorry about that.”

“Will you put me on speaker real quick?” Remus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose until he heard a faint click. “Sirius? You there?”

“Yes! I miss you, and I was just going to tell you that it’s really not that—”

“Please sit your ass down. Lily, if he tries to fuck around and find out exactly how nasty pneumonia is, you have full permission to sit on him. I miss you too, love,” he added after a short pause.

“He’s blowing you a kiss,” Lily informed him. “Oh, and he’s giving me the puppy eyes.”

“Resist if you can. Love you both. Give Hattie lots of cuddles from me.”

“We will,” she promised.

The second the call ended, Remus groaned aloud and thumped his head against the wall before padding down the hall. Just my fucking luck. The door swung open after the second knock; Arthur’s face fell. “How bad is it?”

“Mild pneumonia.”

“Fuck.”

“Yep. Doctor said he’d be out for a month.”

Arthur rubbed his eyes and nodded, motioning Remus back towards his own room. “Get some rest, then. I’ll let everyone know in the morning. Any idea how he got it?”

“Not a clue.”

“Thanks for the update, Loops. Sleep tight.”

“I will,” Remus lied as he headed back for a sleepless night between cold sheets.

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

Lily sent updates every few hours; most reported that Sirius was sleeping well and looking better with each passing day, but Remus couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly guilty. If something happened while he was hundreds of miles away, he would never forgive himself. He had sworn in front of their closest friends and family to be there in sickness and in health—what kind of husband ditches their partner for one of a million roadies?

This one. He stabbed a piece of broccoli and shoved it in his mouth. And then he goes and makes an idiot of himself for the world to see.

The interview was supposed to be easy, but he couldn’t let it roll off anymore. Not when he couldn’t answer their questions even when he wanted to, not when he was states away from the love of his life while he was sick, not when he felt helpless and shoved aside in every current aspect of his life.

“So.” The chair next to him creaked as Talker planted his full weight in it and set his plate decisively on the table.

“What.”

“Oh, pissy Loops. Haven’t seen you in a while. Talked to Cap yet?”

“Yeah.” Another piece of broccoli fell victim to his frustration.

“How’s he sound?”

“Better.”

“Sweet.” Talker continued to munch away on his dinner. “Anyone ever told you that you have the general disposition of a wet cat when you’re upset?”

Remus tried and failed to keep down a smile. “I seem to recall you bringing it up on occasion, yes.”

His dark eyes softened and he bumped their elbows together. “He’ll be okay.”

“I know.”

“Really, Loops. Cap’s going to be just fine. Lily doesn’t sugar-coat this kind of stuff, and he’s a tough guy. Mild pneumonia doesn’t stand a chance. Besides, we’ve only got four days left and we need you to kick some ass out there.”

If Remus was a little more emotionally vulnerable, he would’ve burst into tears. Instead, he settled for leaning his temple against Talker’s with a quiet ‘thanks’ and allowed himself to be pulled into a side hug. Across the dining hall, Finn shot him a thumbs-up and a wink. “Love you, man.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Talker teased. “The internet is already coming to your aid, you know.”

“About…?”

“Not only have those asshole reporters become a new meme, you’ve also got a shit ton of people bringing up past mistreatment of athletes in the press room. You’re the face of a revolution, Loops.”

“I’ve been the face of too many revolutions for one person,” he groused, not even bothering to duck out of the way when Talker ruffled his hair.

“Well, one more won’t kill you.”

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

Remus’ heart raced as he stepped off the plane. The logical part of him knew that Sirius would be waiting outside the security gate, but everything else screamed to see him now, now, right now so he could be sure he was alright. At least he had sounded healthier on the phone the night before—Remus wasn’t sure what he would do otherwise.

“Deep breaths,” James reminded him as they walked toward the baggage claim. “I’m sure he’s—”

An excited shout broke through the thick crowds. Remus’ heart skipped a beat, and then he was running, racing through the people that parted for him as his vision tunneled. His carry-on hit the ground with a low thud that he hardly heard as Sirius lifted him straight off the ground and held him tight.

“I love you,” Remus said immediately, locking his ankles around Sirius’ lower back and squeezing his eyes shut. “Are you okay?”

In lieu of a response, Sirius pulled back and kissed him, cradling one side of his face in his warm, warm hand. Two weeks may as well have been an eternity. He broke away after a moment, searching his face for any signs of illness or pain. “I’m fine,” Sirius said softly, as if he could read his mind. “I promise. A little tired and sore, but there’s no lasting damage.”

“Don’t do that again,” Remus said into the side of his neck as he hugged him close. He smelled like home. “Not when I have to leave.”

Sirius’ arms were steady around his back. “I won’t.”

“I’m going to grill you on everything as soon as we get home.”

“I know.”

“But right now, I’m just going to hug you because I missed you and I worried myself into a hole, like, every night.”

He could feel Sirius’ smile against his shoulder. “I know.”

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (8/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 2.4k words

Your parents’ house was exactly how you remembered it, but again, it had been only two months since you last saw it. Contrary to your usual life, a lot has changed in two months. You aren't working in a cubicle anymore, you're not going on random blind dates that your sister and mother plot for you. What you are doing is bartending in a town far away from your family. You're fake dating your boss who happens to be the most dangerous person in the town, at least that's what you've heard of the rumors, but so far, James has been nothing but non-threatening to you. Yes, he was mean in the beginning, but a lot has changed since then. 

And now sitting in front of your parents with James beside you, eating lunch; you recall Barry's diner and you miss the food there. It's funny because you always thought that this was your home, your family and everything associated with them should make you feel at peace, but you were feeling everything but that. You were restless and anxious, and you wanted to go to that cozy dinner with James where Sally would tell you anecdotes about her life. You wanted to sit with James and watch him debunk the myths about his career that you believed were true your whole life. Turns out, he doesn't cut off people’s dick for disrespecting him. Who would have thought? And you decided that maybe you should stop reading those stupid mafia stories.

James sensed your discomfort, you don't know how he does that, but he always knows when something is bothering you. He brought his chair closer to you in hopes of providing you some relief. And it did, his presence made you feel at ease and you weren't sure how you felt about it. You knew you were dependent on him for comfort since the incident at his club, but being with him didn't make you feel caged.

You always thought that a relationship would make you feel stuck. That's why you never engaged in one, but with James, it felt liberating. Maybe because this wasn't real and the moment this turns real, it'll be a shithole. At least that's what you told yourself. 

“So, what do you do, James?” your father asked, and you nearly choked on your food. James's hand involuntarily reached towards your back, his thumb running soothing circles while his palms patted gently. 

“I own a club and a few other buildings in town,” your faux boyfriend answered, and you were thankful he didn't get into his other business. You wanted to ask about all the rumors in town and why people are so scared of him and why does everyone in the club carries a gun, but you were scared to ask. You feared that you wouldn't like the answers. Honestly, that's false, you weren't scared of the answers, you were scared that what if he closes himself again the moment you step into uncharted territory. And you really liked this fun, caring, swiftie James.

Everybody was sitting silently at the table which was unusual because usually family dinners were the place where everyone pointed out your faults. Carol kept glancing at your parents every few seconds and vice versa. Your brother-in-law, Nick, was focused on the food and their kids were taking a nap.

 You were going to thank your stars for this peaceful lunch when your sister broke off the silence. “So, how did you two meet?”

Every head on the table turned towards you expectantly, waiting for you to explain how you met James. What were you supposed to say? That you met when you interviewed for your current job and he clearly rejected you? 

Before the panic could make its way to the surface, James' palm landed on yours softly, grounding you. Your sister's eyes fell to your hands on the table and she scoffed.

 “We're glad you're happy, but at least don't forget basic table etiquette,” She commented. How could you forget the ‘no hands on the table while eating’ rule? Just when you were about to remove your hand from the table, James held your hand and placed it on his lap, lacing his fingers with yours. 

“Auntie Y/N!” A shriek made you turn behind, and you saw your nephew and niece running towards you with the biggest grin on their faces. Both the kids jumped in your embrace without a care of their surroundings and you stifled a laugh.

Bucky didn't like kids, hated them, to be honest. In his defense, what's there to like, they're always whining and crying, but seeing you attempting to straddle two 5-year-olds on your lap while their mother complained might change his opinions on the subject. 

You didn't like kids either, except your nephew and niece. They were perfect in your eyes, but maybe you were a bit partial because you sort of shared genes with them. You were so focused on the stories Alec and Izzy were telling you that you didn't notice the eyes that were fixed on you. James looked at you with not only adoration, but also devotion. He knew if he kept looking at you like that, he'd be deep in shit, but it was too late now. 

After dinner, you made your way to the bedroom, only to realize that there was one bed. Fuck. You really should have thought this through. 

Before the embarrassment could seep in, James started collecting a blanket and some pillows. “I'll take the floor,” He said. 

You frowned. “No, James. You've already done so much for me. Take the bed, please.”

James pretended not to hear you and started preparing his bed on the floor. 

“Seriously?” You queried, slightly huffing at his childish behavior. “You're gonna pretend you didn't hear me. How old are you, five?”

Without saying a word, James started humming a tune and situated himself on the makeshift bed on the floor and closed his eyes. 

You stomped your foot furiously, yeah, maybe you were a little childish too. Without muttering another word, you made your way towards the bed and tucked yourself in a comfortable position. 

“You were saying something?” James asked, his voice laced with tease, and you huffed at his tomfoolery. 

“Yeah, just how immature you are.”

“Sorry, I didn't hear that. What was that?” you couldn't see him, but you knew he was doing some theatrical actions by putting his hands on his ears for better listening or furrowing his eyes in feigned confusion. “That I'm so smart? Oh, why, thank you. You're not so bad yourself.”

“That's real mature, James,” you murmured, clearly not enjoying his antics.

A comfortable silence fell in the room. The only thing that could be heard was your breathing and the air conditioner that always sucked in your childhood room but your parents never thought it was a primary concern. Oh, yeah, also, you were staying in your teenage room with your boss. You tried telling your parents that you could get a hotel, but they insisted so now James could see one direction posters on the wall right in front of him.

You would have assumed that he fell asleep if he hadn't broken the silence. “I know it's not my business and you don't have to answer if you don't want to,” he paused, wondering whether he is crossing a line by asking you this. “But why do you let them treat you like that?”

You coughed in surprise, you clearly did not expect him to ask this. You thought maybe he was going to ask you who is your favorite one direction member. Anything really, expect this. “Wow, you do not beat around the bush.”

You could hear him shuffling and once he settled you were sure he was facing you. Well, the bed actually. You did the same, turning towards him. You couldn't see him, but it still felt so intimate.

 “I'm honest with people I trust,” he informed and you smiled, thinking about the time when he told you he did not trust you or your intentions.

“What do I get in return?” you teased, although you would have told him without getting anything in return.

“What do you want?”

You debated for a minute whether you should go forward and just ask him so you did. “What do you do?”

You didn't expect him to actually answer. You knew that your relationship (whatever that was) with James had increased from where it was a few months ago. You deeply cared for each other and had mutual trust in the other. But you still didn't know about the actual work he did. Your realtor told you that he was a criminal, a mobster to be exact, and had sketchy connections with the mafia but you didn't know the exact nature of his work. 

He signed heavily and you were ready to drop the subject, scared that it would only push him away again and you couldn't lose whatever you had this early. 

“We provide weapons to the government at a cheaper price, eliminate problems or shootouts that the government is too scared to take the blame for,” he said, voice unwavering but you could sense the tension. Bucky thought that telling you about his work would make you fear him, and he didn't want to risk losing the progress he made with you, but he also knew that if he wanted you in his life in any form then he has to be honest with you. “We don't do the kind of stuff you're thinking of, it's mostly assisting the government to do stuff where they don't want to get their hands dirty.”

“Why?”

“How would you feel if the leaders of your country were involved in shady business?” It was a rhetorical answer, of course, you would feel unsafe, but your sleep-dazed brain was about to muster up an answer but he quickly spoke. “So if it backfires then they don't lose their men and women and can blame it on us, the criminals.”

“So that's why you weren't scared if I went to the cops? Because you kinda work for them?” you asked. His reaction made a lot of sense now, but some part of your brain hoped that he did that for you. That he would defy the police for you. 

“Off charts yeah,” he answered, “Although that has nothing to do with why I wanted you to go to the cops. I wanted you to because what Rumlow did was unacceptable and he should pay for his actions.”

“Wow,” you didn't know what to say. Anything further could push him back to the 'I don't trust you' James and you couldn't risk that. 

Bucky didn't want to elaborate further, “Your turn.”

“Sir, you just set yourself up for the biggest disappointment,” you joked, already imagining his reaction and smiling to yourself. 

“I let them treat me like this because they are my family,” you replied honestly. “I don't have anyone else but them.”

Bucky knew all about the issues that come with family, but he didn't think you'd be the victim of it. Bucky realized that in his head, he had conjured up a version of you that was perfect, so if he were to know you better, it would decrease his crush on you, right? 

Wrong. The more Bucky got to know you, the more he realized you weren't some angel and were just a vulnerable human like everyone, and the more he wanted you, all of you.

“Where does Rumlow come in this?” you questioned.

“His work is dirty like drugs, sex trafficking so he doesn't work well with government or any sort of authority,” he explained, “He's one of the problems they wanna eliminate but can't because he's too powerful. He works with Hydra.”

“Wasn't Hydra a myth?” you queried. You have heard stories about Hydra too, how Bucky was their rival. You assumed it was about territory or money. You know, like in the movies.

“Nah, doll, it's real. He's part of that organization and that makes him shielded from us and literally everyone.” 

“So you're technically not… you know, killing people for fun like the mafia and all? You're like undercover agents,” you concluded and he shook his head, chuckling at the disappointment in your voice.

In your defense, you expected him to be the movie-type mafia boss who kills people for raising their voice but again, this is not a movie. 

“If it makes you feel better, we smuggle weapons for the government. We're still criminals and dangerous,” he articulated, his tone laced with amusement at your reaction.

 “No offense, but that's a horrible career. Is that what you wanted to do growing up?” you asked, yawning, your eyelids becoming heavy from the exhaustion.

“No,” he answered truthfully. “Not everyone gets a choice, doll. My dad was murdered when I was a kid and I was shoved into the business to protect my family.”

 “Where are they? Your family, I mean,” you inquired, hoping you weren't overstepping.

“Ma basically hates me and my sister maintains her distance, but it's for her own safety.”

You didn't ask about them further, realizing his family was a touchy subject for him. You could relate to that. “What do you want to do?”

Out of all your questions and weird assumptions, this took James by surprise. No one asked him what he wanted to do. Hell, he didn't even ask him that, and now someone finally asked him, he didn't know what to answer. You understood his silence, you always understood everything James felt even without it being voiced. He generally hated when people predicted him, he prided himself on being unpredictable but not with you. James wanted nothing more than to just be Bucky with you.

“Don’t worry, you'll figure something out,” you mumbled, already drifting off to sleep.

James turned towards the opposite side. “Sleep well, doll.” he murmured, his breath growing even, matching yours.

TAGS: @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​ @rivers-rambles21​ @emmabarnes​ @goodcleanfunsis​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @boofy1998​ @marvel-3407​

[authorkun]

𝓒𝓾𝓽! 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓽'𝓼 𝓪 𝓦𝓻𝓪𝓹!

"Good Morning everyone! How are you doing this fine morning?"

The crowd roared into cheers and shouts. The moderator waved at a few audience members. "Today, we have a few special guests with us! You might have seen before on your own tv. Please welcome the cast members of Jujutsu Kaisen, L/n, Kugisaki, Itadori, and Fushiguro!" The audience cheered again seeing the actors walk out from backstage. 

The four took a seat on the pristine couches, waving and smiling at the cameras. Their outfits seemed to match the colors of blue and white. Yuuji wore baggy denim jeans, a white hoodie, and a matching denim vest, and converse. A Fannypack slung around his chest. Nobara wore similar attire of a cropped zipped hoodie, loose jeans, and combat boots. 

M/n squished in between the two wore a loose button down with newspaper like designs, bleach patched jeans, and sneakers. Megumi, sitting at the other end of the couch wore an oversized blue and white jacket with a white t shirt underneath, black skinny jeans, and Nike shoes.

M/n sent a dashing smile towards the crowd earning an uproar of cheers. When the four had sat down the audience calmed down. 

"Alrighty then! How are you guys? It's great to finally have you on the show!" The host greeted warmly shifting slightly in her chair. "Ah I think I can speak for all of us, we're doing great! It's such a pleasure being here today!" L/n spoke taking the lead. A wide grin plastered on his face. 

"As you may know, Jujutsu Kaisen is a new uprising show. Popular among many young adults this year. Ranked number 2 in the shows most watched. Taking the cake as one of the fastest to gain audience grossing. So, how is staring in one of the most popular shows in Japan?" Small clips of the show played while the hostess talked.

The screen fading back to the four. "It's amazing, being apart of a show like this. It's almost scary seeing yourself on tv." Itadori explained, M/n chuckled at the small twinkle in his eye. "It's like a dream come true. Really, the director is one of the nicest person you could meet." Kugisaki added. "If I'm not wrong, your twin plays as Sukuna?" The attention adverted towards Itadori. 

"Uh, yeah. Actually when we auditioned, we tried out for the opposing role. Although we look alike his voice is a bit different. But the voice he uses in the show is purposely rougher." The memory of the shocked face of the director seeing the two. "Initially they were going to use one actor and mix the scenes together. But right before filming the idea had gone out the window." A picture of the two on set played on the tv. 

"This show was both of your big breaks. It was also one of L/n's and Fushiguro's major roles. Before you guys had starred in smaller productions right?" The hostess leaned her chin on her hand. "Yeah, I was in a few smaller films before an old friend suggested auditioning. That's actually a funny story of how I got the part. Do you guys want to hear it?" The audience cheered. "An old friend knocked on my door and shoved the script into my hands. 

It looked like he ran a marathon, as he basically slumped over in exhaustion. Standing in front of me he frantically starts yelling bits of sentences. He looked at me and was like," M/n had put his arm out panting slightly imitating the guy's stature. "Role....*pant*..... Big break *pant*....Audition for main role...*pant*." The crowd laughed at his portrayal.  "First, I actually auditioned for the main role, but then the twins came along and blew it out of the water." He playfully sent a glare towards his friend who sat next to him.

 "Your part is as a second-year with Zenin, Inumaki, and Kouichi (Panda) . But it seems your character has a lot of screen time." The hostess leaned in a little more interested. 

"Yeah my character likes to hang out with the first-years a lot more. Not that the other second-years are bad. Zenin is like my sister."

A soft smile never leaving his lips. "Speaking about cast relationships, what's the dynamics  with you guys?" Kugisaki, Itadori, and L/n gave each other looks before cracking up. Megumi rolled his eyes playfully at the three. "We're all pretty close, but ask anyone who works with us and they'll say these three are joined by the hip." Fushiguro explained with a small smile at the others. "Could you expand more on that?"

"At the beginning before the table read, the producers and director thought it was a good idea for us plus Shinji (Sukuna) to 'bond'...in response to that Gojo, shoved us into a room, locked it, and told us to 'get along." The audience laughed at the male's expression.

 "After like 5 minutes of silence these three start dying of laughter. After i think, two hours, Gojo comes back and slams open the door. By the time he did that we were already pretty close. He looked out of breath, and had this frightened look on his face. Then he tells us, he had forgotten that he locked us in the cramped room..." the audience laughed again as the raven head shifted in his seat.

"See they went on break for about an hour and a half, when they had gotten ready to continue, they realized we weren't there. Don't tell anyone this but, Gojo has a horrible memory. He said they looked for us for a half an hour and were about to call security, because none of them had our phone numbers. Anyways in summary, after those two hours these idiots come out attached at the hip, and became everyone's pain in the ass." He sent a sarcastic glare towards his friends.

The crowd was roaring in laughter at the story. "We actually have some bloopers and videos you guys have posted. Do you mind if we play some?" The audience cheered in a 'yes'. "Sure, why not?" M/n answered.

On the same tv they started playing the small compilation of videos. The first one qued was one Itadori had posted on his story. It showed him with his costume on. 

'So, just started filming today and this dumbass hurts himself doing absolutely nothing.' Yuuji had showed M/n holding a ice pack to his forehead with sunglasses on. The male shot up a peace sign towards the camera. The audience chuckled at the current L/n's embarrassment. 'This stupid f*cker made us redo the scene, because somehow he doesn't know how to stand. Randomly during the shot he's shown trying to lean on an invisible force and falls flat on his face.' 

The next video shown was the actual footage that Itadori explained. In the video it was zoomed in on M/n, who like he said was standing and leaned to his left. You could see the horror in his eyes as he fell. The caption being, 'This dumb bitch🥰'. Another fit of laughter came from the crowd. 

The next video that played was in the POV of M/n as the camera flipped showing the back side of Shinji with Sukuna's famous tattoos. He ran up and slapped a pie tin with just whipped cream in his face. "What the hell! Get back here you bitch!" You could hear M/n's laugh while the feed was a bit blurry. Karma seemed to hit has the male tripped and fell onto the concrete. 

The video ended with a blurry picture. The studio was filled in laughter as the male in the video sat embarrassingly between his friends who were also dying. Yuuji  was slumped over his friend, wheezing.

Timeskip

"Well as great as this has been, we have to say goodbye to these amazing actors."

The hostess said with a smile. The audience boo'ed at the statement. "It was such a pleasure to be here. Hopefully we'll get to be on here again in the future." With that, M/n sent a wink and signature dashing smile towards the crowd before walking off with the others. Getting off the stage he sighed out in relief. "Oí those interviews are exhausting."

"You can say that again." Yuuji smiled. "I'm starved who else wants to get out of here?" Nobara complained swiping through her phone. "How about that diner down the street. The ratings are pretty good." The (h/c) haired male suggested. "Yeah sure. I'm pretty sure we're off the hook anyways." Fushiguro said grabbing a water bottle from the table. 

 "I think the driver's waiting out back. I'm gonna leave, cause I'm not waiting on you slowpokes." Kugisaki snickered. "Hey! We're coming too!" Itadori yelled chasing after her with the two others trailing behind. Before M/n could walk out the exit a hand had tapped his shoulder. Turning back, it was the hostess with a innocent smile. "Can I help you?" The brunette had twirled a piece of hair between her index finger and thumb. "Would you perhaps want to go out sometime?" A confident smirk played on her face. "Ah, sorry most of my schedule is booked up with filming and interviews. If I would I could." He shyly scratched his neck sending an awkward smile towards the girl.

"I bet you could make time~" she persisted. "Sorry I-." "Oi n/n we're waiting on your slow ass!" M/n silently thanked Kugisaki for interrupting the girl's persistent flirting. "My friends calling, I've got to go. It was nice to meet you though!" He sent one last smile before running off to the car his friends were waiting in. "What took you so long?" Itadori whined. "The hostess insisted on going out with me." He shivered at the thought. "Yikes. I swear you always get hit on anywhere we go." Megumi groaned. "Hey it's not my fault I'm hot." M/n stuck his tongue out. A light blush dusted across Fushiguro's face.

"Aye stop flirting with each other. We're heading for the diner across 9th." Nobara once again interrupted, giving instructions to the driver.

"Next stop, food!"

To be continued

[sugiwa]

small dreams

It took one 27 second long video for Keigo to fall in love

The video looped through every news cycle, and each reaction varied from outright derision to almost mythical awe emerging. On YouTube, it was viral in fifty-three different countries and Starburst—a name derived from a candy company that the pro-hero was fond of—jokingly tweeted that she was more famous than All-Might.

And she might have been thanks to the reporter that not only caught her decking the father of a girl she just saved but also recorded the subsequent twenty-seven seconds it took for three police officers to pull her off him and pull her away. The peace sign Y/N threw up as the police led her into a car probably didn’t help, nor did the live stream of her twenty-four hours in a holding cell while they investigated her claim of the man’s abuse and finally released her.

Though there were news outlets that tried to pin Starburst down as a hero on the edge of villainy, her public reputation hadn’t taken any damage. It was hard, after all, to claim that she did the wrong thing when they heard the girl’s testimony and pulled her medical records. But, Starburst—or L/N Y/N—still faced punishment from the Hero Public Safety Commission despite all this.

Attacking an unarmed civilian was apparently a big no-no—even if he was an abusive asshole. She was spared having her license revoked until she retested the simple principle that she had refrained from using her quirk. Her sentence was lessened to a month-long suspension with a strict patrol schedule in some city near Tokyo.

Y/N could work with it. She could put up with the Commission’s inane chatter for the sake of her job, but she drew the line at issuing an apology. It took three hours to wiggle her way out of a press conference to address the event. By the time her meeting with the Commission and sentencing was done, Y/N retweeted the initial video with the caption: Totally worth it.

Keigo was slightly in love with Starburst. Maybe it was the way she strolled into the Hero Public Safety Commission building fresh out of handcuffs and bluntly told them that she wasn’t apologizing and would rather become a vigilante than listen to ten more minutes of them debating the future of her career.

Or maybe it was the video which he’d seen a hundred times over, where she looked like a hero. The kind he’d always dreamed of as a kid, the kind who swooped in and beat the bad guy and then offered you stickers and candy and told you everything would be alright because it was exactly what she’d done for that little girl.

Either way, L/N Y/N was a hero who deserved a little rest, which was why he was currently tailing her patrol route and taking care of the problems before she could move. Her quirk was right out of a comic book too. The golden energy that left her capable of issuing an instant KO.

“Will you leave me alone?” she snapped, finally turning around to glare at him. She had a warm face, not made for anger which was probably why the glare fell away a moment later, replaced by a smile. “I appreciate the help, but I’m not offering any fanservice in exchange.”

“Who said I was a fan?” His wings flapped, feathers flying back toward him.

“You regularly stalk girls mid-air? That sort of thing does not fly with me.” Y/N laughed, nose scrunching at her own joke. “Get it…cause we both fly….”

He smiled innocently, “Thought of that all on your own?”

Y/N groaned, twisting her earring, “Just because I didn’t go to a fancy-ass hero school like Wet Jeanist and Flameo Hotman doesn’t mean I’m dumb.”

Slight insulted by the nickname she gave his favorite hero, he asked, “Flameo Hotman? You mean Endeavor-san?”

“Ohhh, that’s a man-crush voice.” Her eyes tightened with mischief, “I’m gonna have to dip since I got a hot date with my credit card. See you later, Chicken Little.”

He watched her go in slight awe because Y/N really was as crazy as the stories said. Starburst was a hero that had a bit of a cult following. She wasn’t high enough in the rankings to be wildly popular the way he was—up until she went viral, that was. A graduate of Ketsubutsu who went on to attend college before actually becoming a hero, she was on a watch list with the Hero Public Safety Commission.

Apparently, non-conformity was an issue…who knew.

A rain of confetti fell over Keigo’s head, brightly colored and all covered in specks of glitter. He inhaled deeply, turning to see Starburst’s grinning face as she eagerly clapped. Endeavor, like always whenever he was forced to be in Starburst’s proximity, turned around and stalked down the hall. Her confetti burned in his wake. Y/N’s voice followed him, offering an empty congratulations to the hero.

“How’s my precious senpai doing?” she asked, turning her attention to him.

“You really know how to annoy him, huh?” asked Keigo staring at the empty hall. If you gave Y/N too much attention, she ran with it. “What’s the deal?”

Y/N shrugged, rolling her shoulders confidently, “Some people are not equipped to handle true talent.”

“Yeah, right,” snorted Keigo.

“I may or may not have drunkenly confessed that I had no idea who he was to a bunch of reporters during last week.” Y/N made a rude gesture with her hand. “I mean, if you’re not Number One, then do you really matter?”

“Harsh,” he ruffled his wings, freeing the last of her glitter confetti and letting it rain on the ground. “You all good with the Commission now?”

“All thanks to you! I owe you one, you know that?”

“Nah,” Keigo waved her off, resisting the urge to laugh as she made her bright eyes as wide as possible. “It was pretty brave of you. Plus, I think anyone would have done the same thing.”

Three months out of trouble, Y/N once again made headlines for ‘accidentally’ dropping a child trafficker off a building. She caught him before he hit the ground, but apparently, the authorities deemed the emotional damage a little extreme.

“They probably would have been a bit smarter about it, though.”

“Well, don’t worry, no one expects you to be the brains.”

Y/N pouted. “True.”

Keigo laughed. “What are you doing here anyway? You’re not in the top ten.”

“Is bullying the new rage these days?” Her pout grew, arms crossing over her chest, “Everyone’s got something snippy to say to me. Where’s Rumi when I need her?”

“Gonna hide behind her?”

“Fuck yeah.” Y/N nodded emphatically as she reached into her pocket for a pack of gum. She offered him a piece. “Let’s see how your chicken wings stand against her legs.”

Keigo looked at the gum and then her. The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them, “Wanna get something to eat?”

Her smile looked like the sun, “Thought you’d never ask.”

“So, what’s the deal with you and Dragonbreath?” asked Y/N, sprawling across his couch. It was the third time this week she was here. He should tell her to leave, but the words die in his throat in his mouth every time he tried.

There’s too much risk. Dabi’s listening in on everything he does these days, and he doesn’t want her anywhere near them. Not when he’s aware of what they’re planning. Not when he knows how Y/N would react.

She was rough and improper in everything she does, but there’s no one brighter or better when it came to genuine goodness.

Keigo dodged the question with his own. “Endeavor again?”

“Ran into him last week and got yelled at for ten minutes for getting in his way. The guy was in my path, and I’m the one getting yelled at? Next time, I’m drop-kicking him off his skyscraper.” She kicked her leg in the air, reminding him that she was scarcely dressed.

Was this what having a girlfriend like? Constantly jumping between fondness and horniness? He wasn’t complaining.

He heard this threat a million times. “Still mad about the fact that he has one?”

“I’m a simple country girl. I’d be happy with a peach orchard and some chickens.”

“Come here,” he crooked his finger at her. Y/N got up instantly, crossing the room toward the balcony where he stood. Her hands wrapped around his waist, slipping under his shirt, across his skin, over his chest. Too much and too little at the same time.

“You’ll get cold out here,” she murmured. He could sink in the warmth she offered.

“It’s nice seeing the world so still.”

A noise left her throat, wet and worried, “Hawks, whatever it is, whatever they’re making you do, I’ll be here. I promise.”

People joked about Y/N being dumb—he did it too often to count, but she saw more than most people did when it mattered.

“Why’d you become a hero?”

“Saved a cute boy once, and he gave me a kiss,” she said. He’d heard that story before. She offered it in every interview, never expanding on what boy or how she saved him. It was also a glaring lie.

He didn’t push her. He lied about too many things to count.

Keigo took her face between his hands—the urge to kiss that tiny speck by her eyes thrummed through him. It would take a thousand-thousand years for him to forget her face. Y/N turned, her lips skimming his palm, cold and warm at once.

He loved her because she was Y/N. Because in her, he could love himself and not grow cold from it. Because the numbness he’d always known leaked out in place of affection. He loved her boundlessly—above, below, and across—unhindered, without ill will, without enmity.

It was with her that he was Takami Keigo and not the current Number Two.

His hand cupped her neck, fingers tangling in the curls of her hair. Her lips opened under his. A trail of fire burst across his lips, and for a moment, he only knew the sweetness of her mouth. He drank her in, each breath, each hushed sound leaving her throat.

He would do what they asked and make the choices no one else could.

It was worth the world he dreamed of.

[dinosaurtsukki]

being the MSBY Jackals’ physiotherapist

anon: HEY BOO! LISTEN BEING THE BLACK JACKELS PHYSIOTHERAPIST! I can imagine a lot of damage I- bye 😽 I could I please have that as a headcanon 👉👈 thanks! ❤️ (that is a If requests are open..)

they are most definitely open and OH MY GOD THIS IS SUCH AN AMAZING IDEA WHEN I GOT THIS I COULDN’T WAIT TO START. i’ve been watching a lot of vids on what physical therapists do too and i hope you like this it was so fun to write !!

Bokuto Koutarou:

he deadass got you mixed up with the sports psychologist

when he walked into your clinic he was all ‘ah, hey there’ before lying faceup on the cot and just talking about his problems

and at first you were alright cause good to make conversation and everything until you realized.... “this guy thinks i’m the therapist”

bokuto: people always assume that i’m really naive and i kinda am but--

you: bokuto,,,, i’m not the therapist

bokuto: oh 👁👄👁

you: does it, um, hurt anywhere?

bokuto: *points to his heart*

after directing him to therapist’’s office, you finally clear up his misconceptions on what you’re supposed to be

you did hear about bokuto but what you didn’t expect was that he was An Actual Ray of Sunshine

whenever he comes to your office for his weekly check-ups, he always brings some sort of present

he likes to bring a package of cookies and the two of you eat them while you have your session

bokuto still uses the term ‘ouchie’ and it’s adorable

he takes really good of himself and his body so he isn’t prone to serious injuries. as soon as he knows something feels off, he’ll stop himself from working and come to your clinic

except,,, he comes way too often

bokuto: I WAS FLEXING MY FINGER AND THEN IT SUDDENLY MADE A CRACK SOUND WILL IT FALL OFF???

you: you’ve... never popped your fingers before?

bokuto: you can POP your FINGERS???

in interviews, bokuto loves to mention all the people who helped him on his journey and ngl it’s a REALLY LONG LIST but he always, always mentions you as ‘the best physical therapist ever!!’

and it makes you so soft you love your job so much

he actually ends up recommending you to his friend, akaashi keiji, because bokuto knows his shoulders and back hurt 

akaashi comes into your office and just goes: “can you crack my back and shake me like a glowstick?”

you: i think you’re looking for a chiropractor

akaashi: ...

you: okay, lie down. i’ll see what i can do

Hinata Shouyo:

he got LOST TRYING TO FIND YOUR CLINIC

like, you were checking your watch wondering where your client was before he burst into your clinic thirty minutes late

also for some reason he was really nervous to see you poor baby he had the misconception that you were there to find what was wrong with him and then after he wouldn’t be able to play again

so he was genuinely surprised after you just made him do a few stretches for him, recommended some ways to move his body to utilize it better, and just sent him off

hinata: just... just like that?

you: yeah, pretty much. unless you feel that something else is wrong

after that he’s not so afraid to visit your clinic. in fact, he enjoys it quite a lot!

hinata really takes note of the advice you gave him (he brings a notepad and everything) and he likes to call you up to let you know that they worked

he actually calls you A LOT, like you’re probably the person he texts and calls the most other than natsu

at one point he was calling you every single day asking about what to eat until you decided to make a whole-ass weekly meal plan for him to just cycle through

 he’s actually quite flexible (not as much as sakusa though) and he’s so proud of being able to reach farther than his toes

when you’re not looking though he measures himself against the height chart on your wall and you think it’s absolutely adorable

hinata knows how to take care of his body and TRIES not to overwork himself but sometimes he gets really impatient about wanting to improve so he’ll stay late in the gym, practicing his spikes and serves

BUT since his teammates know hinata listens to you they’ll threaten to tell you when he’s overworking

sakusa: hinata, if you don’t leave the gym right this instant i am calling y/n

hinata: just five more minutes!!

sakusa: *pulls out his phones and presses some random numbers in*

hinata: OKAY OKAY I’M GOING

it’s kind of like the adult version of your parents calling the doctor when you don’t want to eat

also you have no idea that this happens

even though he’s moved on from it, hinata still gets a bit paranoid about playing a major game while being sick

you’re always at their games as part of their medic crew and before it starts, hinata always comes up to you and asks if you can take his temperature

you didn’t know why until atsumu explained everything so now you make sure to always have a temperature on you for hinata’s peace of mind

Atsumu Miya:

someone who actually knows what physical therapists actually do thank god 

ngl you’re kinda shookt at how large he is in real life when he walks into your clinic 

he also assumes right away that you want an autograph so he gifts you a signed picture of himself which you always have on your desk from now on because come on you are a fan

atsumu’s really nice to talk to, he does flirt quite a bit but he genuinely asks about how you are too or if your family is doing alright

such a sweet boy

atsumu’s the one who visits your office often but for reasons that are actually relevant to your job because this man just overexerts himself too much

and he keeps brushing it off and saying that he’s alright but you know better you’re a physical therapist for god’s sake

atsumu: i’m telling you. it’s just a sprain!

you: *pokes his ankle*

atsumu: aaaAAAAAAHHHH

he’s the one that you have to constantly keep tabs on and thanks to the help of his teammates and a spare key, you’re able to drop by his apartment once in a while

but no matter how much of a pain in the ass he is you still can’t help but want to take care of him. whenever you make yourself dinner you find yourself making seconds for atsumu

before you know it, you’re making dinner for your favorite MSBY boys because you don’t want them to feel left out

you also have to stop atsumu from overdoing on the protein shakes and drinking vitamins

because he’s addicted protein shakes especially the strawberry-flavored one but you’re the only one who knows that so shhhhhh

atsumu: if one vitamin capsule makes me healthy, does that mean drinking more will make me even more healthy ??

you: NO STOP. STOP WHATEVER YOU’RE DOING. RIGHT NOW.

one time you got a call in the middle of the night from atsumu saying that he ate an entire container of gummy vitamins and you had to run to his place in your pajamas

idk you just see him so much because he keeps getting injuries and it’s hilarious

atsumu, walking into your clinic: hey, doc! they sent me here cause my back hurts from carrying the entire team!

you: atsumu, you dislocated your shoulder

Sakusa Kiyoomi: 

probably your most normal client among the four of them but that doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy his visits to the clinic 

well, actually when he first visited your clinic, everyone else stalked him because they wanted to see his Flexible Wrists in action

you had to chase them out

sakusa is SO HAPPY that you just took one look at his Flexi-Wrists and noted it down without going batshit over it

you always spray the cots and your instruments with alcohol before he comes in and sakusa knows cause he smells it and he appreciates that so much

one thing that you do notice is that sakusa,,, frequently glances at the jar of lollipops you keep on your desk and give out to your kid patients

and after a session he just lingers for a bit before saying good bye and leaving so one day you just take a chance

you: would you,,, like a lollipop?

sakusa: .... yes please

he chooses a cherry flavored one and is about to leave when he sits back down on the chair

sakusa: they’ll never let me hear the end of it if they see me

so you let him stay in your clinic for a bit longer before deciding to also get a lollipop and that’s how the two of you end your sessions

no talking. just lollipop eating

(i know how it looks but pls don’t add sexual connotations i jus want sakusa to enjoy a fricking lollipop)

he actually likes to remember the scientific muscle names and everything just to impress you 

also, he doesn’t want to give you a hard time but he also likes visiting your office and talking to you (and eating the lollipops) so he makes up all these excuses to come by your clinic

sakusa: i hit my toe on the table

you: okaay, do you need a bandaid?

sakusa: it was the small toe

sakusa’s quite selective about the people he’s with so he’s kind of attached to you now. like it or not, you’re his personal doctor

prepare to receive texts like ‘y/n, i have a cough. what should i drink?’ 

you: sakusa, i’m a PHYSICAL THERAPIST

you: also, ginger tea is supposed to be good for you

he’s actually your eyes and ears when it comes to monitoring the team. kind of like the kid who tattles to the teacher in pre-school

sakusa: y/n, atsumu’s overdoing it again

you: is that so?

atsumu, in the background: NOOOOO NOOO I’M NOT !! SAKUSA’S LYING

you have such a soft spot for sakusa. when he had to be confined at home for breaking his ankle, you sent him a whole jar of lollipops

he ate them all in one day

***********************************************

taglist (still open to anyone who wants in!): @montys-chaos​ @miyumtwins​ @strawberriimilkshake​ @pocubo​ @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan​ @therainroguefanfiction​ @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja @oikaw-ugh​ @charliefredb​ @dramaqueenweeb1469 @tremblinghearts @applepienation @doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love @waitforitillwritemywayout @kattykurr @tpwkatsumu​

[1ddotdhq]

👻Wed 21 Oct ‘20👻

Boobiegate begins! Celebtm has published its expose about Briana and her alleged sugar daddy, Micheal Straus. He claims that the reason he gave her thousands of dollars was because she was broke and he was raised by a single mom, so he felt bad for her. The article goes through the ways in which Briana’s OWN FAMILY called her “unstable” (pot, kettle much?) and then! AND THEN!!! Goes through babygate! They outline all of it - that people think Louis is gay and with Harry, that she’s photoshopped pregnancy pictures, that they are photoshopping pictures, that Louis never sees Freddie, ALL OF IT. In front of each claim, they quote a fan, so it cleverly seems like they themselves are not making the assertion, but as anyone who has reported anything in this fandom would know, everyone has an opinion. The ones you AMPLIFY are the ones that you legitimize, and Celebtm even went as far as linking tumblr masterposts on all things babygate if anyone wanted to dig into it. Well, better y’all than us! In the end, however, they do take a strong stand, saying:  “Whatever the truth is about Freddie’s parentage, it’s clear that Jungwirth has secrets. While the vast majority of babygate proof is speculation and fan rumor, it does paint a picture of a woman hiding something. Whether or not Tomlinson is in on the secret or being cheated remains to be seen.”  

Louis himself has said nothing, nor do I expect him to. Michael Malarkey, a former co-star of Danielle’s, posted a tweet with a picture of Louis, saying “WE LOVE YOU LOUIS” after seeing it trend on twitter and then plugged his own music. I assume that this random shout out is related to the stir that Celebtm’s article caused, but, honestly, maybe he just really loves Louis. I can certainly relate.

Liam is doing his best to steal my title of *ghost* writer, as he makes a spooky halloween account: let’s all welcome Cornelius the Ghost to this year’s Halloween shenanigans! It is unclear what Cornelius’ role in the show will be, or if this is an eroda style RPF lead up to Halloween. He is a cloaked figure who is haunting Liam for information about the Halloween LP show via Instagram. Silly ghost, you should be haunting this blog instead! We have you covered (cloaked? You get it)! MUAs on Twitter have begun to send in their Halloween looks into Liam’s competition and they are VERY spooky. I’m not a fan of horror but campy, spooky Halloween fun? Sign me TF UP!

Golden is LIVE...or is it??? Golden is impacting radio stations and climbing some radio charts, despite the Official Date of Impact being the 26th, I guess they just couldn't wait. I have not heard it on my local radio, but I’m more of a Spotify kinda gal, anyways. I think stations have started to jump the gun and are playing it, in spite of any official dates. Eroda has stirred, at any rate, and added a description to their Lighthouse attraction. They are describing it as, “Eroda’s famous lighthouse is the perfect place to catch a beautiful golden sunset”. Very nice, very romantic! The picture that immediately comes to mind is the last shot of the WMI director's cut where the cute couple walks into the sunset. Sigh, I love that music video.

Harry is VERY in LA; he’s meeting fans, taking pictures, hanging out with his costar Florence Pugh, and wearing his rings again! He didn’t have surgical gloves over them this time, so we can see that they aren’t ALL back, but his plain bands (including the peace ring!) are firmly on his fingers. One fan who met him asked him to take a picture of her and her friend, and she bought dessert for him. In return, he covered hers - or, sorry, an anonymous patron paid for her dessert - it’s always nice to see that his mother raised him well! We also got a little throwback to last Christmas (I gaaaveee you my heaaarrrttt) with Harry sitting on Santa’s Lap in an LA party, presumably around the time of Fine Line’s release. I guess those North Pole Catfishers from last month were onto something!

Niall and Capitol Records are celebrating three years of Flicker, so Happy Birthday, it should be walking on its own and forming complete sentences by now, and at least a meter tall, if Freddie is anything to go by! Niall is celebrating by spending the day in a recording studio with british singer songwriter Anne Marie, who’s dream collab was Niall! Go girl, make it happen! He was playing an acoustic guitar, and hopefully making more of that new music he’s been teasing in interviews over the last week.

[wondersofdreaming]

Show Night

Characters: Henry Cavill x female reader

Word count: 1.446

Warnings: Pure fluff. Competitiveness. Blurting. Hidden relationship. A little teasing. Embarassment. 

Author’s note: This is a prequel to Game Night

Thank you @radaofrivia​ for your inspiration, motivation and for guiding me <3

Go read her stories here: Rada’s Masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the reader who is a figment of my imagination.

MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

“Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special treat for all of you. We have the entire Justice League here with us. Please give a warm welcome to Gal Gadot, Ben Affleck, Henry Cavill, Jason Momoa, Ray Fisher and Ezra Miller.”

The entire audience clapped. There were whistling, some were screaming at the top of their lungs. You were cheering just as loud. Watching your handsome boyfriend walk out and wave to everyone. A relaxed smile spread on his lips when his eyes landed on you.

You were at the Graham Norton show. Sitting on the front row. No one knew who you were except the man who owned your body, heart, and soul, and now also Graham Norton and his crew. The producers had wanted you to stay backstage, but you had been adamant on wanting to sit in the audience and watching the show live. They had relented in the end if you promised not to cause a ruckus, which you had sworn.

Graham starts asking questions about the Zack Snyder’s Justice League, and at some point the engagement ring for Amy Adams’ character ‘Lois Lane’ comes into the conversation.

“Did you in fact choose that ring yourself, Henry?” Graham asked and motioned to the monitor behind him, showing a closeup of the ring.

“I didn’t. I actually have no clue where it comes from,” Henry chuckled, his eyes searching for you. You could see he was a little nervous, as he was fiddling with the hem of his suit jacket. You put your hand on your chest and crossed your fingers.

It was your secret sign for him. A sign of your devotion to him, as you had promised to always be there for him. The idea came to you while watching your favourite anime show ‘Fairy Tail’.

“If you ever become nervous or need a reminder, then look towards me or the camera if I am not there. I will you show you this sign,” you had crossed your fingers over your heart, “Even if you can’t see me, no matter how far away you may be, I will always be watching over you.”(1)

It had been a day where Henry had had a long day filled with interviews right at the beginning of your relationship. He hadn’t wanted to ask you to come, which was the reason why you hadn’t attended, thinking he wanted to work in peace. He proceeded to come home and went directly for your lap, falling asleep in 0.2 seconds, and you had asked him to bring you with him to work, as you, an author, could work anywhere.

“… I think it is about time he finds himself a girlfriend, a woman to spend his life with,” Jason’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see Henry squirming more than before. His jaw was tense as he was forcing a laugh. You felt his pain and wished you could sit next to him and squeeze his hand in yours.

“I have a lot of single friends, Supes. Say the word and I’ll introduce you,” Jason smacked Henry’s thighs with the biggest grin on his bearded face. It may have sounded like a joke to the audience but Henry knew that Jason wasn’t teasing.

“I don’t think my girlfriend will like that you’re playing matchmaker, brother,” Henry smiled. All the actors’ faces fell, even Jason was gobsmacked as his jaw dropped to the floor.

Then Henry noticed what he had just said. His head turned towards you with a look of utter shock. He had just blurted out that he wasn’t single anymore, without having consulted you. Your heart was racing, your secret had been revealed. In some way, it felt like a heavy stone having been lifted from your shoulders.

You didn’t know whether to scold him for not asking you to make your relationship public or to laugh at the horror he was sporting on that handsome face of his. You opted for the second choice, the people around you followed suit and started laughing and cheering.

“Well, you heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen, Henry Cavill is officially off the market,” Graham announced to the camera. “Now, Henry, you have to tell us how you two met.”

“We… eh… met through mutual friends. They were having a game night, and we ended up being paired together for charades,” Henry smiled at the memory. Looking at you, making you fall even more in love with him. Jason and the others noticed where Henry was looking and started shouting for you to join the group.

“Oh yes, please she must join us for the next part of the fun,” Graham pleaded.

Ray and Ezra both stood and went to stand at the edge of the stage. Each man gallantly offered a hand, which you took and was led towards the sofa. Jason moved to make space for you and was wearing a big grin, his eyes shining with glee.

After the rounds of introduction and you told what your occupation was, Graham went to introduce the little quiz game he had conjured. You were each given a button that made a sound. Yours sounded like a pig snorting, while Henry’s was a howling wolf.

“So, the winner gets to take home whatever is underneath this piece of cloth,” Graham said after he had told you the rules. He motioned to the covered box next to him.

“Everyone ready?” he asked. All the actors and yourself said yes. Henry was leaning a little forward, to be ready to push his button.

“First question: Who are the original members of the Justice League?”

You pushed your button faster than anyone, while Henry pushed his so hard it nearly flew off the table.

“Aquaman, Wonder Woman, Batman, The Flash, Superman and Green Lantern,” you told Graham. (2)

“Go girly,” Gal cheered for you. She leaned forward and raised her hand for a high five, which you returned.

“Correct! Question number two: What is the Green Lantern oath?”

*Oink oink*

Again you were the fastest. Everyone watched as Henry let out an annoyed huff, but his face showed nothing but absolute happiness.

“In brightest day, in blackest night, No evil shall escape my sight.

Let those who worship evil’s might Beware my power, Green Lantern’s light. (3)” You quoted.

You felt the other actors starring at you. Jason gave you a side hug and told you that Henry had found not only a beautiful woman but also an impressive one and that he was damn lucky to have you. You had smiled back and felt yourself being pulled back towards Henry’s side. He held a protective arm around you the remaining of the show.

“Seriously, Cavill. Don’t want to compete with your girl?” Jason asked teasingly.

“I’ll gladly just lean back and let her have her time in the light. Besides, I’m already winning because she’s with me,” Henry smiled proudly at you. You heard the entire audience all go ‘awwwwwwwww’, so did the actors and Jason went between you and Henry to hug both of you.

“Third question: In what year was the first Justice League comic book published?”

Again you were quick to push the button.

“Depending on whether you’re talking about the first time they appeared all together which was in The Brave and the Bold #28 (4) and published in 1959, while their very first own comic book series was published in late 1960.” (5)

Henry raised his eyebrows, clearly dazzled by your vast knowledge. 

“Correct again. Seems you know more about the Justice League than the Justice League itself,” Graham joked.

“I didn’t expect anything less from Superman’s girlfriend,” Ben said with an appreciative grin.

You felt Henry moving closer to you, hugging you tighter to his chest. It was the safest you had ever felt, and even though Henry hadn’t gotten one single point, he was still oozing happiness. Happy to have you by his side forever and ever.

“Here is what you’ve won,” Graham handed you the box and removed the cloth. Inside was Funko Pop figurines of every Justice League member.

After the show, you made sure that every single actor signed their respective figure, and you had pictures taken with them to remember the evening.

At home, you arranged the figures with how they look on the poster you had hung on the wall of your office.

“Another win for the team,” you said out loud. Henry walked in and hugged you from behind. He wrapped those big arms around your middle and whispered seductively in your ear:

“I’m the real winner here.”

1. This is a line from Fairy Tail episode 48 by Makarov Dreyar. I changed it a bit to fit the context.

2. Source https://ew.com/books/brief-history-of-the-justice-league-in-all-its-incarnations/ 

3. Source https://greenlantern.fandom.com/wiki/Lantern_Oaths_(Disambiguation) 

4. Source https://dc.fandom.com/wiki/The_Brave_and_the_Bold_Vol_1_28

5. Source https://dc.fandom.com/wiki/Justice_League_of_America_Vol_1_1