#But in reality she just has a silly little crush that she’s straight up willing to sacrifice troops for

[bogcreacher]

[enhyupn]

always you!

pairing: park sunghoon x gn!reader (ft jay too)

disclaimer: reader is incredibly insecure... i didn’t realise how insecure they were until i finished writing this pls

word count: 2.9k+

genre: angst and a dash of fluff... the fluff was a little treat, childhood friends to lovers!au based on heroine disqualified

a/n this was a wild ride to write omg i don’t usually write angst so i can’t tell if i displayed their emotions as well as i wanted but oh well it was fun to write 💭

was it worth it? was it a matter of luck or chance? was this worth risking everything? you believed park sunghoon was everything, he built you into the person you were today. his confidence, the way he would always take care of you, you weren’t ready to let go of any of that plus a stupid confession? you weren’t letting that be the cause sunghoon drifts away.

the way he ties your laces, the way he ruffles your hair when you feel down — how could you not fall in love with him? everyone around you believes that too.

maybe the happy smile on his face should of made you smile too. happy tears streaming down his face with a smile so big, you desperately wished that you were the one that made him smile like that. in the corner of your eye stood kim minju, holding a bouquet of flowers, the purple lilacs you helped him pick. the beginning of love, that’s what the flowers mean, sunghoon wanted the flowers to mean something.

“congratulations sunghoon” you staged a fake smile on your face. sunghoon caught off guard by your sudden voice flinched before turning to you with a bright smile on his face. “the first out of us two to start dating”.

“i beat you to it” he smirked, “can you believe she said yes”. you chuckled lightly at his enthusiasm, knowing if you said another word you might just tear up.

“i have to get to class” you spoke as quietly as you could, your head slightly tilting down so he couldn’t get the look of pure misery on your face. “see you?”.

“see you y/n” the corner of his eyes crinkled. you watched as he turned around before making his way to his new girlfriend. anybody could see they were a match made for each other, top students in both of their classes as well as part time models? why would sunghoon look your way when someone like kim minju is right in front of him.

even as months went on, you never really... recovered from the whole minju and sunghoon thing. frankly, with them basically being everywhere you go, you couldn’t even get a chance to get over sunghoon. little things started changing too. every time you asked to walk home he’d tell you he’s walking home with minju, meaning you had to watch them from the other side of the street while they giggle and hold hands every evening five times a week. he won’t even help you with your homework anymore, he won’t even come over when you spontaneously cook a meal that feeds two people. he’s accidentally missed so many calls from you and has left you on delivered so many times you can’t even count the amount on your fingers.

the realisation hit you fast, you depended on sunghoon for so long that he was the only thing that mattered to you. guilt ate you up for being upset with sunghoon, knowing that it was selfish to ask for all his time when he had his girlfriend right by his side. maybe, just maybe, this was the time to get someone by your side that wasn’t park sunghoon.

as time went on you realised, it wasn’t as easy as you thought. the image of sunghoon left your standards high and the selection right in front of you never met those standards. well, until you met park jongseong or jay. he was friendly, funny and never cared when you were upset over something silly like seeing sunghoon with minju at the café you told him about. jay filled in the space sunghoon once filled in, but something felt off. you never wanted to admit that jay was a sunghoon replacement, jay was jay and sunghoon was sunghoon. although, when you look at sunghoon, all you think about is sunghoon but when you look at jay, guilt eats you alive because all you can see is sunghoon.

“y/n i like you” the light breeze, green reappearing on the bare trees, everything looked perfect so why didn’t you think it was perfect? jay looked into your eyes desperately, trying so hard to look for an answer that you yourself didn’t even know. “i know, i know you still think about that sunghoon guy, but i— i don’t care y/n”.

“jay...” you looked everywhere but his eyes, you felt so many emotions that you couldn’t pinpoint a single one. you knew that it was selfish of you to even consider his feelings, you couldn’t give him an answer when he was standing right there. you so desperately wished to get away, not so sure if the mention of his name was the thing that set off all the emotions in your heart. “i— i should go...”.

“please” jay gripped onto your wrist lightly, the desperation in his voice and face confused you so much that you couldn’t even think straight. why you? jay was always there for you and he deserved someone better than you, someone that would be able to properly reciprocate those feelings same he had for you. 

“i’ll talk to you later jay... i’m sorry” the grip on your wrist loosened before completely coming off. the scene looked almost painful. there stood jay, his face completely blank and there you were, tears running down your face as you tried to grab a hold of your emotions. each step you made brought another tear down, you don’t know why you were so upset. was it guilt? the feeling was so overbearing that you couldn’t even answer jay.

you don’t know where your feet took you, but all you knew is how you had no idea why you were faced with sunghoon’s home. the black doorframe almost begging you to come closer, is this right? the doorbell almost sent you into tears again, the nostalgic sound adding to your emotional state. the silence following the sound maybe even snapped you back into reality, what are you doing here?

“y/n?” the voice was clearly not sunghoon, a smooth feminine voice only belonging to kim minju greeted you. just to make the night better his girlfriend opened the door and saw your puffy eyes and red nose.

“minju” you quickly wiped tears away from your cheeks, nothing could help however as new tears quickly formed before dropping down your face “i don’t know why i’m here i should—”.

“y/n?” a familiar voice sent chills down the back of your neck. he quickly made his way to you, a concerned expression that made you want to cry harder. “what happened? are you okay?”. you wished you could ignore the concern in his face, you didn’t want him to care.

“i’m fine, tell your mom i said hi and i’ll get going” the shakiness through your words failing to hide the immense despair you had in your voice.

“no you’re not!” sunghoon raised his voice, a habit he had when he was annoyed. “you’re shaking y/n... what happened?”. the boy didn’t know how his hands found his way to your shoulders, gripping them lightly to reassure you that he was there.

“sunghoon stop, i’m fine” you shook off his grip before stepping back to give yourself some space. “i’ll be going now”. the whole situation being only a mere five minutes long, the fact it felt longer than that made you uneasy.

the silence in the air was deafening, the sound of the crunching grass you were making as you walked home was the only thing breaking it up. sunghoon stood in shock as he watched your shaking body make each step. minju, who was watching the whole scene unfold in silence, didn’t know what to say. she’s never seen sunghoon so concerned, so emotional and so angry. what are you to him?

the following days were peaceful, it was a silent agreement for you and jay to act like none of that happened, the happy faces on both your faces as you eat cake together proved it. it was easy settling back in to your normal, everyday relationship. maybe even too easy. you wished that every day could feel as simple as that day, the normality of everything felt so easy.

“you should tell him” good way to hit the mark jay. suddenly this normality thing was crushing down. maybe it was too good to be true? it was bound to happen anyways.

“excuse me?” you questioned jay. you felt yourself grow hot at his sudden comment.

“tell sunghoon you’re in love with him”. one of jay’s traits you loved most was his straight forwardness, but honestly speaking maybe this was one of the times you didn’t love it.

“it’s like you want me to cry in the middle of this café” you joked as you took another bite of your cake.

“y/n i hate seeing you like this” jay looked into your eyes seriously, “why are you letting this happen right in front of you? why are you letting this eat you up?”. you could see the emotions he was bottling up, you could tell he’s been wanting to say this for a while. it just so happened that he let it all out in a little café while you ate cake.

“jay—”

“i should get going” jay said standing from his seat. you understood his feelings, obviously he was frustrated and annoyed with you. you felt the same about yourself. “i’ll call you later?”.

“where are you going—”

“see you y/n”

everything about this made you feel terrible, you’ve lost sunghoon and now maybe jay? why why why couldn’t you just forget about sunghoon? an amazing perfect guy likes you so much that he’s willing to date you even when you constantly think of someone that isn’t him. what was so special about sunghoon? every time you’re almost begging yourself to let him go, he always seems to show up right before your eyes.

the walk home was awkward, even when it was just you all alone. you couldn’t stop thinking about everything, when did this get so complicated? it all started with a one sided crush on your best friend, maybe that’s all it should of been. everything was falling apart and you so desperately wished someone could fix it all. your head felt so light that you couldn’t even think straight anymore. you sat down on the old, almost falling apart bench in the middle of the park. it faced a small pond, filled with lilly pads and a duck with its ducklings following them closely behind.

“hey y/n” you suddenly faced a hand holding a bottle of water. you looked up, your eyes widening realising it was minju.

“minju?” you moved over to make some room for her to sit in.

“hi” she weakly smiled. you knew in the way she fiddled with her fingers that she had something to tell you. “it’s weird how i just met you here, i wanted to talk to you but i realised i didn’t know anything about you. it’s kinda like we were fated to meet here”.

“yeah...” you looked down at your lap. awkward silence filled the air, both of you not knowing what to say.

“sunghoon and i broke up” minju broke the silence, you abruptly turned your head towards her in surprise. you noticed her nose was red and she was chewing on her bottom lip to stop her sudden tearing up. it didn’t work though, tears were streaming from her face at a fast pace. “we fought that night you visited his house, i realised something i never noticed before”.

“what do you mean—”

“he looks at you differently” minju continued, “he looked at you like you were the whole world. when his world looked like it was about to crumble he stopped everything to make sure it didn’t. after you left, he went back inside to grab his jacket because he knew for sure that if he ran to you he’d catch up”.

the tears in her eyes started to slow down but the shakiness in her voice told you that it was hard for her to tell you this.

“i stopped him, obviously. i was his girlfriend, i didn’t want him to leave me for someone else. but when i did, he was so mad at me” she chuckled sadly. “and i’ve never seen him so mad, it made me jealous. we fought and fought that night, by the end of it i couldn’t take it. i knew if i let this go on any longer it’d just break us. it wouldn’t be fair on both of us”.

“minju... i’m so sorry” you said quietly. tears welled up in your eyes, you felt the pain in her voice and expression.

“he’s in love with you y/n...” she smiled sadly at her words. “i noticed almost immediately when he saw you in tears right outside his door, and i think when i left his house he realised it too. i think he’s scared, i think he thinks he’s lost you. it’s not your fault, or his. maybe it’s mine actually”.

“it’s not your fault minju, don’t think that”.

“no, i should of known” she wiped her tears away. “he was always talking about you, mentioning little things you two did and would always tell me what flavours or things you liked”.

“he did?”

“yup, would never stop talking about you...” minju finished her conversation, her tone of voice still sounding sad. still, she found a way to cheerily smile at you. “you should tell him”.

“i can’t” you frown, “it’s too late”. you play with the bottle of water in your hands. you knew it wasn’t too late, you were just scared and being a coward. you know if you faced sunghoon at that moment, no words would come out. nevertheless, you wanted to see him, you desperately wanted to see him.

“y/n” minju held your hands, “please go to him, for his sake at least”. she looked at you with shiny eyes, hope in her eyes that you would listen to her.

“i’ll go, thank you minju. i’m so sorry for everything that’s happened too” you reassured her. you stood up from the bench, holding out the water bottle to her. the water bottle she gave you was all you could give back to her.

“this for me?” minju laughed weakly.

“yeah” you rubbed the back of your neck, “i felt like you needed it”.

“thanks y/n” she smiled sincerely. you felt yourself feel warm looking at her, forever grateful for her words.

you felt your feet pick up pace, trying to find their way to sunghoon’s house. you felt your heart burn at the sudden amount of exercise you put yourself through. you felt the wind flow through your hair, the pebbles at your feet almost making you trip. you didn’t care though, all you wished was to desperately get to sunghoon as quickly as you possibly could. you were completely wrong at the start, this was worth risking everything for.

“y/n what are you doing here— ” sunghoon stood outside his house as you made a stop from your constant running, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants he stared at you confused yet concerned. here you were, running towards him with hope in your eyes. he felt his heartbeat faster than anything else.

you didn’t know what happened, everything looked blank and all of a sudden you were in his arms. your arms wrapped around waist with your head against his chest, you couldn’t look in his eyes no matter how many times you told yourself.

“i know i’m stupid and incredibly dependent on you, i know i shouldn’t have ran all the way here because whenever i do i always end up passing out”.

“y/n what’s going on” you felt the vibrations of his voice through his chest. the comfort and the feeling of home engulfed you in so many ways.

“i love you” you pushed him back to finally look in his eyes. you watched as he stood shocked, his eyes widened hearing your words. “park sunghoon i’ve been in love with you for as long as i can remember”.

“you’re telling the truth right?” his shocked expression not falling as he spoke. “you’re in love with me?”.

“i am” you grinned, “i know i don’t have any flowers to give you or anything but—’.

your words were put at a stop due to the fact his lips were on yours. your widened eyes fluttered shut as you returned the kiss back. maybe the books were right, everything felt so cliché. the fireworks went off in your head, it just felt so right. nothing at all could stop the butterflies in your stomach and your reddening cheeks and ears.

“i love you” sunghoon whispered as he held onto your cheek. “i only figured it out recently but better late than never right?”.

“right” you let out a chuckle. you missed this feeling so much, the feeling sunghoon gave you. the feeling of home, comfort and everything imaginable. you felt like you could burst from all the emotions you were feeling.

he brought his forehead to yours, smiling at your blushing state. both of you couldn’t contain the giddiness you felt, you felt like the whole world could go into flames at that moment and you could care less.

all you cared about right at that moment was sunghoon.

[hes-writer]

drivers’ license

Summary: harry teaches y/n how to drive

Warnings: angst, a little bit of fluff

Word Count: 1805 words

A/N: the ‘blonde girl’ has no face claim.

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MASTERLIST

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There were many milestones that Y/N strived to remember; things that she wanted to embed in her memory because each fleeting moment was a few seconds away from being lost.  She was afraid that in a blink of an eye; everything would disappear, that she wouldn’t even remember what had been forgotten.

But she would never forget him. Harry. The best friend who taught her how to drive with the utmost patience, calm correction of her mistakes and gentle voice to ease her worry as soon as the shift went from ‘P’ to ‘D’.  He was there with precise instruction, detailing each rule and advice that would help her acquire her drivers’ license.  He was tolerant of her constant ability to doubt herself, always assuring Y/N that she could do it.

It was silly why Y/N was scared of driving.  It was because it felt so grown up, so adult-like and it bought a sense of responsibility.  It meant fully committing to adulthood.  There was a shift that everything was changing.  And by that, she meant everything.

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It seemed like a distant memory now.

Y/N took the leap of faith to start learning how to drive, trusting him to teach her the ways. Harry was her light in a dark day.  His smile was bright enough for her to admit that through the haze of her nervousness; it wasn’t just caused by her fear of handling and operating a vehicle.

It also had to do with the way Y/N’s stomach fluttered with butterflies when she had parked in an empty lot, Harry sitting on the passenger’s seat as they talked to each other about anything and everything their minds could conjure up at that very moment. No filter.

How Harry enthusiastically shared his excitement about Y/N’s newfound ability to drive to and fro from her apartment to his place.  They would be able to go on drives on the coast with nostalgic songs blasting on the radio, screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs where no one would hear them.  The wind sifting through his hair to which she commented on maybe getting it snipped; it was why Harry opted to not trust Y/N with scissors anymore after a close-call with the sharp tool.  She didn’t know why he had decided to trust her with it in the first place--she was a clumsy one.

Yet Harry continued to spend each and every second of his free time with her, even when he was booked to the hilt with mandatory meetings and unplanned fan encounters, Y/N stood by his side as an unofficial photographer.  The dopey grin on her face must’ve been permanent every time that she was around him.  Sometimes she looked through the screen of the phone and wondered just how much she would break if Harry wasn’t around in her life and all she had to remember him by was the captured portrait of his kind aura leaking through the device; almost as if he was there right beside her because Y/N seemed to label her best memories with him around.

Harry was it for her.  Even if her feelings were not mutual, Y/N would take being his closest friend over being a stranger because at least she was near him.  Luckily, Harry returned her affection.  Though, it was humiliating to vouch for a relationship that would have to go through troughs and trenches in order to be rendered successful.  It seemed impossible with her stoic life compared to his fast-paced, always moving, always travelling situation.

Y/N was willing to work for it.  If she were to make a list of things she wanted most, it would be the unconditional love from the one that meant the most to her.  Harry was exactly what she wanted--what she needed.  Y/N didn’t know what she did in her past life or even now that caused the universe to gift her with a presence as charming and graceful as his but she would do it every day if it meant coming home to his warm embrace.

But Harry wasn’t so keen on commitment.  There was no denying that his thorough discourse of relationships hindered his ability to fully trust any future partners and Y/N understood that.  The distance gets to peoples’ heads, even his, admittedly.  Loneliness seeps through his fingers, directing his body to strangely familiar bodies. Ones whom he was not currently committed to. Wandering hands.

Despite that, Y/N knew that Harry was a good person.  Some may call her a fool for giving him a chance but he truly was a genuine guy.  She had seen it when he was coddled up, blankets bunched all the way to his chin, only showcasing his angelic face.  The crease of his brows free from any worries.  He was simply him.  She had seen him when he was the most vulnerable.

Harry was a romantic person.  He loved to love.  He adored the concept of having someone behind him, beside him and in front of him at all times to catch him when he fell, to support him in any new journeys and to lead him when he was lost.  Y/N could understand his shortcomings, aiming to better the other person instead of putting them down.  She wanted a dialogic approach instead of having a conversation where all she pointed out was his bad qualities.

What she couldn’t comprehend was how easily he had lied to her.

She wasn’t asking for much; Y/N promised to wait for him until he was ready. Until his previous baggage was deemed easy enough to carry, or at least when Harry was able to talk about it without anointing skepticism to his actions.  Though, Harry had blatantly disregarded her purity to be patient towards him.  Basically, he had told her that he was not ready for a relationship yet here he was now, holding hands with another girl.  The blonde woman had caused insecurities to sprout from deep within her since Harry kept citing her age and maturity, adding that she was ‘different’ from the rest as if he hadn’t mentioned it previously.

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Y/N would ask herself from time to time; when a tree falls in a forest, does it make a sound?

She compared it to the times’ Harry’s voice cracked in the middle of singing songs that embedded itself in her memory and the way his ears tinted a blush pink even under the night sky after Y/N quickly gave a glance in his direction.  She reminisced about the times when he would explain any ideas he had about new songs, thoroughly immersing not only himself but her as well, in his art.  He would sometimes stop midway as if lost in thought when really he was just mesmerized by the slope of her nose and the pucker of her lips.

He was so passionate.  So indulged and fervent in making sure everything he did was one-hundred percent, authentically him.  Harry spoke with grit when he was overly zealous and he tended with a soft voice when he felt vulnerable.

It was glaringly loud; Y/N could hear him everywhere she went.  But now that he was gone—out of reach—did those conversations ever really happen?  Was she even present when Harry shyly played a song he had been working on for her, singing stripped with just his raspy voice, serenading her with a tune describing how much gratitude he felt that she was present in his life.  He appreciated her so much for accepting him even when the world criticized his every action. For being there when he seemingly felt lonely.

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Life itself was funny to her.

Sometimes Y/N wondered how she could let herself be vulnerable with somebody else other than herself.  It was plastered everywhere—love never lasts.  Relationships come and go, people leave and never return, friends, drift apart and detaching from oneself was even possible.  It was practically the motto of anyone searching for love—looking for a sense of comfort and belonging, yet she was practically crushed by the overwhelming reality that it may never happen.

She hated the way her heart longed for him to be near as if when he was too far away it ached in pain.  Y/N disliked the feeling of being out of place because where she truly belonged was in his arms.  Harry’s nose nuzzled at the top of her head, inhaling her scent as though it was the last time he would hold her—for a while at least.

And it really was because the next day he had left to catch a flight a mere continent away.

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The night before was special to Y/N. Harry left with a promise of ‘forever’ and that he would return straight to her after his tour ends.  It was a dainty promise but Y/N chose to believe him because it was Harry and he never strayed from his words.

He promised to return and Y/N had sworn to wait for him. They both agreed, after admitting their feelings the night before he left, that a long-distance relationship was not how either of them wanted to begin.  Although their friendship had lasted years prior to finding out the bubbling flame between them, crossing the line as seamlessly as possible was the gateway to a healthy relationship.

Y/N could hardly wait for his return now that she was driving alone to where she needed to be.  Harry was always at the back of her mind no matter how hard she tried to distract herself.  He was attached to the episodic memory of Y/N successfully learning how to drive; that was something she couldn’t really forget.

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Y/N unlocked the car doors, breathing deeply as soon as she was situated on the driver’s seat. The beeping of the car ringing in her ears until she was reminded to close the car door shut.

She blinked her lids tightly, feeling salty tears pooling at her waterline.  It was a sad excuse of trying to not start sobbing right then and there but she was successful.

Starting the engine, Y/N sniffled as she adjusted her mirror, making sure that she could see through them before driving off. As she focused her eyes on the road, Harry’s voice repeated in her head.

She didn’t know where she was going. Y /N didn’t really have a destination to arrive to because her brain was filled with images of Harry and her.  Kissing, hugging, looking at each other as if nobody else in the mattered; not even Y/N.

And it hurt a lot because she kept her promise of waiting for him to return but it seemed like he had no trouble filling the hole in his heart, unlike her.

He moved on.

_____

[all1e23]

Between the Stars [Pt.11]

Pairings:  Bucky x  Reader

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death. **Smut.** 18+ please and thanks.

A/N:  It’s  here! Just a reminder this is a Bucky chapter. I really struggled with this one so who knows what this is. As always  my beautiful beta @moonbeambucky​​​​​​​ made sure this wasn’t trash. If you like it write me a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

Morning came too fast. The sun rose against Bucky’s wishes for it to stay hidden and keep reality from tearing away the small bit of heaven they created last night. Once it did, Bucky wasn’t sure how he would fare. He hoped well. There’s history, though. He’s watched her love another, and Bucky had loved him too. It made all of this more complicated. There were rules and lines that if crossed, relationships and hearts would never be the same. It wasn’t as simple as a confession of love whispered in the dark, regardless of past promises exchanged and the ones broke with only the stars to bear witness.

One stumble. One misstep and everything would crumble around them. 

Was it even safe to say what was on his heart? Was ‘I love you’ too risky, too sudden? It wasn't something Bucky was willing to gamble yet. Maybe once they’ve talked and he’s held her through the fears he knows are there. No admissions this morning, just the quiet they fell into. 

Thankfully, that silence was there to say what the heart couldn’t. 

The room was already growing warm from the rays spilling in and heating the heap of tangled sheets and limbs. Something was off. Bucky turned to find the source and he couldn’t help the quiet laugh rumbled from his chest. The break in the thick soft coral fabric that usually kept the sun out smiled back at him. It was still parted from the lamp that fell the night before. He had forgotten. The brushed silver stand caught the curtain in the midst of shedding clothes and desperate kissing and falling. The cream colored shade still sat on the floor where it fell and Bucky couldn’t find it himself to be bothered. Bucky ran a hand down his face, but the grin pinching his cheek stayed put regardless. It’s been fifteen years -- Fifteen years! It was hard to believe they were here after everything that happened. 

After all the mistakes he made, Bucky never thought he would end up here. He thought for a long time, it was one-sided. A silly crush he convinced himself he would get over if he found enough distractions. Nothing was ever enough because nothing could ever mean more than her. There was a fleeting moment when his chance came into view, and it was snatched away from him before he realized he wouldn’t get another. Last night everything changed. It was… there were no words that could do it justice in Bucky's eyes. It was incredible. Amazing. Perfect. A glimpse of Heaven he never deserved to have and long overdue. It was everything Bucky thought it would be and so much more.

Bucky’s spent most of his life dreaming about a morning just like this. A morning where he woke to a dream, an angel sleeping soundly next to him and wrapped around his heart, invading every inch of his soul. He’s pictured their first time more than he could ever hope to count and no matter how the fantasy started, it never played out like that. It was never that soft and bright and wistful. Dreamlike but unlike any dream Bucky could invent. In the versions that played out in his head, there was always a dramatic confession of love that led to this frantic, consuming moment where they landed tangled around each other and ready to run away together as soon as the sun rose.

This was far better. 

Mornings after have never been something Bucky was particularly fond of. He usually woke with a twinge in his soul and a burning in his heart. Burning so badly he couldn’t wait to get away from the faceless woman next to him and he did. As fast as he could, he ran straight for her every time. Looking for absolution or temporary amnesia perhaps. A few hours to forget that it would never be her laying next to him, she would never be his because they weren’t made for each other like he once believed. The feeling he wakes with on those days is reminiscent of an ache he knows he can never mend. It doesn’t feel anything like this. Nothing in his life has ever felt like this, not a single moment in his life has he ever felt this solid. No one but Y/n could make him feel so utterly lost and devastatingly found all in one breath. 

There was a nudge to his ankle. A soft foot gently grazing against the tiny hairs resting there and pulling him out of his head and back to her. Bucky rolled onto his side and grinned when he found her hiding behind the blanket, only her eyes peeking out over the fluff that was covering her nose. Her mouth was hidden but he knew by the twinkle in her eye she was smiling. Over the last year, Bucky has become accustomed to seeing her wake with a tearful gleam and ghosts pinning her down. There’s only a smile this morning and somewhere in that stubborn head of his, he knows it’s his doing. He hoped it was his doing. 

All he’s ever wanted in this life is to make her happy and, while Bucky knows he will never truly deserve her, it won’t stop him trying to be worthy of her.

Y/n slowly slid the blanket down uncovering that pretty smile, the one Bucky lives and dies by. Seeing it first thing in the morning, when she’s still glowing and he’s still searching for the breath she stole does something to him. Something he couldn’t explain if he was forced to. It’s a good thing, Bucky knows that. He knows that because his hands were still trembling and his heart was pounding like it’s found a new reason to keep beating. It started last night when she asked him to fall and he went tumbling down, Bucky found something more to live for. His second chance at life came from loving her and he wasn’t going to screw it up again.

The quiver in his fingers settled when they brushed her skin and she smiled because of his touch. He placed a soft kiss to her shoulder when his fingers left a shiver in their place. Another kiss to her chest followed the path his hands created as they explored, and another one to her neck. Okay, several to her neck and that spot under her ear that makes her whimper. He really liked that one. Her fingers played with the chain around his neck, slowly wrapping the cold metal around her hand and tugging him forward until his lips to meet her mouth. Bucky slowly crawled over her using his knee to push her legs apart and slipped down between her legs, never once breaking their kiss-- he wasn’t ready to lose their softness. 

Bucky draped himself over her, neither bothered getting dressed last night and he was grateful for their laziness this morning. His forearms rested on the bed next to her head and fingers playing with the fallen strands of her hair. She smiled up at him and mumbled a quiet good morning which Bucky returned with a languid kiss, one that only added to the heat filling the room. He didn’t have a real plan for how this would go. The only thing he wanted to do this morning (and for every morning for the rest of forever) is show her how much he loves her. She sighed helplessly when he broke their kiss, staring up at him waiting for him to tell her which path they should follow-- their head or their heart. Yeah. Okay. That was the plan for today. She needed to know that it all means something more. Every touch, every kiss, and every last whisper means more; it did back then and does now. He’s waited so long to have her like this, how could it not mean everything? 

It was everything. He would show her. It didn’t matter how they got here or how it happened. None of this happened the way Bucky wanted it to, and he knows exactly what this second chance cost them both, but he just wants to love her the way she deserves to be loved—how he should have been loving her all these years. 

Pausing he asked, “Fall with me?” 

He bumped their noses together and she smiled up at him. 

“Yeah, Buck.”

He returned her grin and checked one more time to be sure, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

She leaned up and caught his lips, tumbling into unknown depths once more with only Bucky there to catch her. It felt the same and different. A familiar nuance. Last night was slow and Bucky couldn’t see anything past her. It’s the same this morning; she’s the only thing his heart recognizes but his thoughts are clearer, more focused. It feels less like a dream and more like it could be his future; like it was real, tangible enough he could reach out to take a hold of her, and never let go. 

Or so Bucky hoped. 

Bucky took his time loving her, the sun was barely up and he wanted to see how far they could fall. However far she was willing to take him, Bucky will follow her wherever. He may be the one making her come undone this time around, but she’s always the one leading the way. So he let her lead, followed every move of her hips and every shiver. God, he loved the way she sounded under him. Those sweet sighs and desperate gasps. His name on her lips. 

“Bucky. Bu- Bucky.” 

He doesn’t think he will ever tire of hearing his name fall from her lips with such need. It was beyond the heat and want of the moment and while she’s needed him in the past she’s never needed him in this way. 

Letting go of her felt like a sin. Something he shouldn’t attempt again and he won’t if he can’t help it. Bucky made the quick trip to the bathroom after her, peeking out the door to watch her curl around his pillow, wearing nothing but the smile Bucky gave her. The sight made him move a little bit faster. He climbed back into bed rubbing his beard against her stomach and chest until she giggled. Bucky whispered against her bare skin, “Ain’t that a pretty sound.” 

She smiled and told him his laugh was prettier. Bucky playfully nipped at the sensitive skin under her breast making her yelp and shook his head in disagreement. If she wasn’t still floating in the glimmer of what they had just shared she would argue some more. Bucky urged his head into her hands and she obliged, running her fingers through his hair once he settled down on top of her with his head on her chest and arms wrapped tightly around her waist. He really was like a cat sometimes. Bucky’s eyes felt heavy and her hand slowed, sleep was calling them both and they’ve spent enough time denying their wants.

They could talk later. There was time. 

--------

By the time Bucky woke again, the sun was no longer glaring at the window and the room had cooled, despite the fever Bucky created before falling asleep. It took him only a second to realize he was alone this time, the sheets crumbled at the end of the bed leaving his naked skin exposed to the cold air the fan was blowing. There was a note resting on the pillow next to him, smiling less kindly than the curtains had the first time he opened his eyes. He called out for Y/n but there was no answer and without reading he knew what that paper laying next to him said. He rolled into his back and held the note up over his head, reading the words several times over. 

There’s coffee ready for you and I threw your cigarettes in the trash. They better stay there. I have something I need to do, but I’ll be back soon. 

I’m not running. 

Xoxo, 

Your trouble. 

Bucky held the note to his chest and took a deep breath. It was nice to hear but it didn’t settle the fear in his chest. He could have walked away from all this before but now that he’s held her he can’t go back to the way things were before. It’s all or nothing this time around. He set the letter on the nightstand next to the half empty glass of water and her well-worn copy of Anna Karenina. Bucky had to remind himself, she was marking their path and all he had to do was follow her. Bucky knows her better than she knows herself some days and he knows what she needs right now, and he needs to respect that.

So he did. 

The shower seems smaller today. The water burnt his skin regardless of the temperature and the steam felt like it was choking him. He knows it’s because Y/n wasn’t there with him. Which was ridiculous. There hasn’t been a day in his life that he’s shared a shower with her, but not having her downstairs or in their-- her bed weighs heavy on his chest. God did he need a cigarette.

The air was still dense, suffocatingly so, when Bucky made his descent down the stairs that led into the kitchen. His coffee was waiting for him like she said it would be and there was a bright pink sticky note on the lid to the trash-can that caught his eye right away. Bucky snatched it on his way to the mug sitting in front of the glass carafe, reading as he poured. 

And you say I’m trouble. Don’t even think about it, Barnes.

Bucky chuckled and pressed the sticky side of the paper to the cabinet door above the pot, grumbling quietly to himself, “Trouble. Just trouble.” 

Guess the cigarette was out.

By mid-afternoon, Bucky was unable to sit still for longer than a few seconds. He tried to watch a little TV, stared at Steve’s letters for a solid hour before hastily tossing them back into the drawer, and heading outside to tinker with his bike. No matter what he did, he couldn’t keep his nerves from rattling with each hour that passed. The sun was low before he realized it was setting and the pit in his stomach grew. He forced himself to get cleaned up for the second time today, though, he was washing away a different kind of filth. He had one more thing he needed to grab before she came home and he found himself wandering out onto the front porch at what seemed to be the perfect time -- his heart must have known.

The sound of her car rolling over the gravel somehow unraveled him while keeping him together. He took a few steps to the top of the stairs and watched as she walked up the walkway, stopping in front of him. She looked more at ease than she felt he imagined. He had a pretty good idea what happened this morning and where she went, but he also knew she would tell him the whole story when she was ready to and not a moment before. 

“How’s Wanda?” 

She grinned. 

“She’s fine. Annoyingly perceptive.” 

Bucky hummed and pulled out a pale pink peony from his back and held it out for her. She rolled her eyes despite the grin she was unable to stop and took the flower. It was cheesy. Bucky knew it was the cheesiest thing he’s ever done but he didn’t care. He’s spent more than a decade desperate to love her and now that he can, he’s not holding anything back. 

“Dinner?” She asked, holding the flower to her nose to hide the size of her grin. Bucky pushed the flower out of the way with his index finger and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. 

“Yeah, dinner.”

---------

Bucky wanted to press. Ask her what they were and what she was feeling but that wouldn’t be fair of him to do; demand she tell him exactly what this means and where they are going, after everything she’s been through. She probably didn’t know. He couldn’t fault her for that. This entire year was new for her. She’s had to become a different person, with a brand-new dream towards a future she never planned to live. He’s wanted this for years, but for her, this is just something else that’s changed, something else she needed to adjust to and sort out her feelings for. 

He owed her that time. She deserved the time to figure out her feelings without pressure. 

She needed the stability of something familiar and if Bucky kept himself from being selfish, he could give that to her. It wouldn’t be that hard. Most things between them hadn’t changed all that much. They’ve always teased each other, had this connection that’s been entirely for them, and no one else. Only a few things have changed and he could hold back if she needed that. Since she’s been home the front porch kiss has been the only one, despite how much Bucky wished they could forget dinner and spend the rest of the night kissing. Then again Bucky always wants to kiss her. So that wasn’t really all that new either. There were plenty of times when he had wanted to tonight. It was usually found in the little things. When she was standing at the stove swinging her hips to the low hum of the radio Bucky had to force himself to keep his hands and lips to himself when all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and let his lips wander her skin with no real destination in mind. Let them land wherever she would allow and beg permission for the rest. He made no move to do so, just stood beside her and listened to every direction she gave him, letting himself fall for the fifth or sixth time in the last twenty-four hours.  

“So you are going to show me the marshmallow thing now?” 

Bucky laughed but his cheeks were pink and getting brighter by the second. 

“I can, but I like how sweet you taste without it.” 

Bucky watched the shift in her seat, tilting her chin up and dropping her gaze to where her fingers were dancing on the clear steam of her wine glass. She was flustered. Bucky couldn't help the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips, he tossed his napkin on the table and watched her. She briefly glanced at him, challenging him with a quick raise of her brow and gave one right back. There were a lot of ways this could go. He could drop it and they would push it aside like they always do, or he could act on the tension between them. The little bit of sauce on her bottom lip really made Bucky want to do the second thing. 

Slowly, Bucky closed the few inches between them, scooting her chair closer to him with a gentle pull from his foot and pressing a delicate kiss to the corner of her mouth and running his tongue along the cream on her lips. He barely pulled away before she turned to capture his lips, and it quickly shifted from sweet to desperate and heated. Bucky’s hands find their way onto her backside and slide her off the chair onto his lap with an easy lift.  

It was heady. The kiss. Intoxicating and overwrought. More like the times Bucky dreamed of. Hard and a little rough, with a gentle want. Her hips were moving at a frantic pace, pushing the harsh denim against him and he was quickly losing himself in the feeling. It felt good. To let go and give into her and high that came from wanting her. Bucky’s grip tightened on her waist pushing her down harder with each drag of her hips. 

If they were young and foolish he would lay her out on the table, shoving the plates and bottles to the floor because the mess wouldn’t matter. Not when he needed to be inside her this badly. They weren’t kids any longer. There were scars and wounds and broken pieces that needed to be mended with softness. She was more than some quick fuck he found himself buried in to ease the void and as good as this felt, he didn’t want to love her like that. Her movements faltered and Bucky helped steady her, giving her the chance to pull back and catch her breath. 

There wasn’t much on his mind beyond her, but he followed her glance to the table and met eyes when they landed back on him. 

“We have to clean up?” She asked, panting and clearly a little foggy. 

Bucky chuckled. She was asking him?

He glanced back at the plates on the table where several drained beer bottles sat next to an empty wine glass with a line of red floating on the bottom, the bowl of pasta they had yet to finish, and empty plates. It was a mess. The plates would be a nightmare to clean after that cream sauce had dried and that little bit of wine in the glass would leave a ring. He didn’t care. With his arm secured tightly around her, Bucky carefully stood with her in his arms and headed straight for the stairs. 

With darkened eyes anchored in hers, he assured her, “It will still be there tomorrow, Trouble.” 

They could deal with it together in the morning because he’s not going anywhere any time soon. He will be there as long as she’ll have him and with any luck Bucky has this tomorrow and the next because, without her, Bucky doesn’t have one. 

Previous // Next 

[deathbymeow]

First Encounter

Adrien stood in the foyer of the penthouse apartment. His limbs frozen as he saw her for the first time in three years. He couldn’t turn back now but he didn’t know how to move forwards either.

She’d been the only thing driving him forward, the only thing keeping him sane until he could return but he hadn’t expected his body to fail him like this.

Marinette moved in time with the music. Her dark hair flowed over her bare shoulders spilling down her back. The slip dress she wore moved hypnotically against her skin as her bare feet travelled over the timber floor. She hadn’t seen him, and he still wasn’t sure if he wanted her too.

Before he could decide, Luka walked into view and headed straight towards Marinette. Luka grabbed her waist and turned her around to face him. Words were exchanged between them before Marinette wrapped her hands around Luka’s neck and pulled him down. As she kissed him a wave of nausea hit Adrien and the reality of his absence hit him like a tonne of bricks.

It had been three years since he’d been shipped off to New York. Adrien had tried to rebel against the dictatorship that was Gabriel Agreste, but after 29 people including some of his classmates and Marinette’s father had died in a fatal akuma attack, there was no reasoning with him.

Adrien was barely seventeen, in his last years of schooling before he went to collage. He could have ran, hell he wanted to but he’d been riddled with guilt so he went not knowing when he would return.

Adrien knew what it felt like to be isolated after living with his cold father for years but living with his Aunt and cousin Felix had been a whole new kind of torture. He’d been closely watched and always had his bodyguard with him.

Chloe had been the only one allowed to visit him and only because of the family connection. With her mother living in New York, she visited often. Chloe constantly lectured him about coming home. Even the fact that his passport was hidden from him didn’t stop her suggesting that she could sneak him out of the country on her private jet. Communication with his other friends had been heavily monitored but Chloe would always return home with dozens of letters he’d written to Marinette. The information to sensitive and private to run the risk of anyone else’s eyes.

Adrien had just turned twenty giving him access to his trust fund that held a sizable amount from his years of modelling as well as his Mothers inheritance. Gabriel and his Aunt had lost their power over him. He demanded his passport back with threats he’d take the matter to the embassy and press charges.

Adrien only wished he’d done it sooner. Chloe had been right he was avoiding his responsibility’s back in Paris. He still hadn’t come to terms with the guilt, but he knew he couldn’t go on without seeing her. He was willing to do whatever it took to win her heart back. So, Adrien let Chloe organize all the details of his flight and before he knew it he was finally home.

Now standing in Chloe’s apartment he was a ball of nerves. The girl in front of him no longer looked like the girl he’d left behind. Her cute piggy tails had been abandoned long ago. Now her hair tumbled halfway down her back, her long bangs fell in her eyes and framed her pretty face as she kissed Luka.

“Hey bro, there you are. I thought we were going to meet in the lobby?” Nino said as he caught sight of what held Adrien’s attention. “Oh man, dude, I’m sorry he wasn’t meant to be here tonight.”

Adrien shook his head and turned to leave. He knew there was history between Marinette and Luka, but no one had informed him that they were still a thing. His chest hurt and the air in the room suddenly seemed to dissolve.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why did he ever think he still had a chance with her. He wanted to leave but Nino grabbed his arm and dragged him down a hallway and out onto a balcony.

“Adrien, I’m so sorry you had to see that dude.” Nino shook his head and leaned on the railing watching Adrien closely.

“Shit Nino, why didn’t you tell me instead of letting me hope I still had a chance?” Adrien was still struggling to breath. He grabbed onto the railing and lowered his head hoping to steady his trembling hands and ease the twisted feeling in his gut.

“It’s not what you think Adrien. I mean, I know it looks bad and yeah it’s no secret that Luka loves her, but she refuses to commit to him or anything for that matter.” Alya appeared in the doorway and headed straight for Adrien. “Marinette isn’t the same girl anymore. She struggles to let any of us in.”

“Hey, Alya.” Adrien turned around and hugged her.

“Hey Sunshine, it won’t be easy, but she needs you.” Alya said ruffling his blonde hair.

“Alya, she never wrote back. I… I tried to explain everything. Hell, I even told her multiple times just how much I loved her, but I never heard from her. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her, do you really think I still have a chance?”

“Do you still love her?” Alya asked leaning against Nino.

“More than I thought possible.” Adrien looked away at the distant lights. He thought over time his feeling may have dulled but instead they’d only intensified to the point he felt like he’d left a piece of his heart and soul in Paris.

“Then fight for her. Even if that means you have to fight her until she lets her defences down.” Alya said firmly.

“Alya’s right dude, she would never admit it, but she’s been lost without you.” Nino added.

“You guys are forgetting something though. The akuma attack that killed her pappa it was, it is my fault. She has every right to hate me.” Adrien inhaled and held it hoping to stop the tears that wanted to escape.

“Adrien, no. Just no. It’s Hawkmoth’s fault. We were just kids trying our hardest against a madman.” Alya grabbed his arms and gave him a light shake. “She needs you, whether she knows it or not.”

“Al has a point dude. You need to go talk to her.”

“Nino wait.” Adrien shook his head and grabbed his best friend’s arm. “I’m not ready.”

“Bro you got this, you just need a little push.” Before Adrien could say anything else Alya and Nino disappeared inside leaving him alone on the balcony.

“Kid he’s right. It’s been long enough. How many times do I have to tell you, she doesn’t blame you.” Plagg flew out of his jacket pocket and floated in front of his face, crossing his little paws as he went.

“Plagg, you don’t know that for sure.” Adrien looked over the edge again as his mind travailed back to that night.

When all the dust cleared, and they realised what couldn’t be fixed with the miraculous cure, Ladybug fell apart. With no lucky charm to fix the damage there were bodies’ left everywhere. The battle had been intense, and all the miraculous holders had been in play. A devastated Chat had carried the inconsolable Ladybug into an abandon building with Rena, Caprice, Viperion and Queen Bee. Everyone heard their miraculous beeping, but no one could move. When the beeping stopped Adrien had been left cradling a sobbing Marinette while their friends looked on.

It killed him to leave Ladybug alone to face Hawkmoth and Marinette alone to grieve but she’d refused to see him. There were no goodbyes and no closure to the reality of their civilian identity’s. Something he’d tried to address in his letters.

Ladybug had the help of the other miraculous holders after he left, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed that her fight had become almost ruthless. Her new super suit looked like it belonged out of the video game, Assassin’s creed. She no longer smiled, and Adrien could clearly see what others might miss. Her eyes showed the internal battle and pain she wouldn’t let go of. A silent rage like an electrical storm without the thunder to warn you of the danger.

……….

Marinette knew he was back. She also didn’t know if she was ready to confront her once school crush and silly pun throwing partner who happened to be the same blonde-haired green-eyed boy she loved.

To many emotions swirled around her head and heart when it came to him. She was furious and hurt that he left her to pick up all the pieces after her life fell apart. She didn’t know if she hated him or loved him so much it hurt just thinking about him. When anyone mentioned Adrien or his alter ego she would snarl a warning to stop.

Marinette downed another drink before kicking her shoes off and letting the music control her body. It was easy to get lost in the music with the alcohol coursing through her system. She was vaguely aware of Chloe telling her she’d already drunk too much, but she chose to ignore her.

She hated what she was doing to her mum and friends, but it was easier to be numb than to feel it all. Most days she woke up feeling like she was drowning. Night after night the nightmares plagued her dreams. If she was lucky enough sometimes the alcohol managed to dull the pain and help her sleep.

Her other escape was Luka. She loved him but refused to admit it. Even with his love it wasn’t enough to mask her feelings towards the green-eyed traitor. How could she fully be Luka’s when her body and soul ached for someone else?

Hands grabbed her waist and when she opened her eyes she was looking into the aqua eyes of Luka. He looked pissed at her and for a moment she wondered why.

“Marinette, what the hell. I’ve been messaging you all week. When you didn’t come home your mamma was worried. She doesn’t deserve that. I don’t either.” He said over the music.

“Lu, you worry too much. It’s only been three days.” She ran her finger down his nose and leaned back against his hands, letting him hold her weight. “I just needed to clear my head schools been kicking my ass and I had deadlines.” Marinette reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. Pulling him down, her lips crashed against his and she felt him relax against her. She let his tongue into her mouth as his hands slid down her back and rested on her hips.

Luka pulled away first breathing heavy. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into Chloe’s spare room and ravish her body, but he knew what she was doing. Adrien was something she refused to talk about, and Chat Noir was no different. She would do anything to change the subject but now he was back it was only a matter of time before she had to face everything she’d tried so hard to forget.

Luka was terrified he was going to lose what little of her he had. He loved her so much it hurt sometimes but she was hurting too, and it killed him. He’d do anything to fix her. Even if it meant letting her go. It may kill him in the process but the time he had with her was better than nothing at all and if that’s all he could have then so be it.

“You can’t keep ignoring it Marinette. You won’t talk to me about it. About any of it. Maybe it’s him you need to heal that broken heart of yours.” He kissed her forehead, turned around and left. Trying his hardest to ignore her calling his name.

“Lu stop talking shit. Luka, get back here.” She yelled throwing her hands up and stomping her bare foot against the cold floor.

“Mari, what’s going on?” Alya gently took Marinette���s hand and turned her around to face her.

“It’s nothing. I just need another drink Al.” Marinette tried to walk back over to the bar in the corner where Chloe was sitting filing her nails and chatting to Tikki, Trixx and Pollen.

“Ah, I don’t think so missy. You’ve had enough tonight. I think you need some fresh air.” She tugged on her hand and led her to the balcony.

“Alya what are you doing, it’s cold out there.” Marinette complained as she tried to dig her heals in but Alya had the upper hand thanks to her sober state.

“Cold air will do you good girl. Now stop complaining.” Once outside Alya took a step back inside the door. “I’m sorry but you need to deal with your shit.” She said as she closed and locked the door.

“Alya, what the hell! You’re crazy, let me in?” Marinette yelled as she banged on the door.

“Marinette?”

Marinette stood still as the smooth voice washed over her, leaving her skin tingling like she’d just been zapped. She rested her face against the cold glass and shut her eyes.

“I can’t do this.” She whispered.

“My Lady, please turn around.” He begged.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore.” Her temper flared at her old nickname and she spun around; her eyes blazed into his. “You left… You left me. I needed you and you left.” She held her head high, but her voice wavered as she struggled to keep it together.

“I know. I… I failed you. I…” He stuttered as her blue eyes bore into his soul.

“Tikki.” Marinette called as she felt the panic wash over her like hot ice.

“Wait, Marinette please” He took a step towards her.

Marinette backed away as Tikki flew through the glass.

“Marinette is everything okay?” Tikki asked as she noticed Adrien. “Oh, Adrien.”

“Tikki…” Marinette’s voice was barely a whisper now as she shut her eyes tight. The panic was tightening around her heart and squeezing her lungs making it impossibly hard to breath.

“Please Marinette we need to talk…”

“Spots on.”

Pink light washed over Marinette and by the time it had dissipated Ladybug had replaced her.

………….

Adrien knew it was never going to be an easy reunion. The nerd in him couldn’t help but dream about her running into his arms and confessing her undying love for him before kissing him senseless. The realist in him knew that wouldn’t be the case, but he hadn’t prepared himself for the reality of her not even wanting to look at him let alone talk to him. The panic in her eyes had been real. Was she afraid of him? Was it pure hatred?

Now standing before him Ladybug looked every bit the assassin bug the media had dubbed her new look. She no longer adored the cute spotted mask instead the lower part of her face was covered by a black vail, with her fierce blue eyes blazing underneath the black hood that covered her braided hair.

The hood attached to a sheer black kimono, pulled tight by a black leather corset that laced up the back with red ribbon. The ribbon tales were long and seemed to fly behind her of their own accord. The asymmetrical hem of the kimono exposed the hip of her right leg and ended in a sharp point on her left knee. Without her black tights the kimono wouldn’t have covered much. Her right thigh had three deadly looking blades held in place with three red belt like bands. Delicate red stitching adorned the cuffs of the lose sleeves and flowed down the asymmetrical hem.

Up close Adrien realised that the stitching was symbols of an ancient text. The text seemed to glow, illuminating her silhouette against the dark night sky of Paris. He took a step towards her with his hands up in surrender but before he could get any closer, she leapt over the edge and swung into the darkness. The glow of the stitching leaving a red trail in her wake.

Adrien stood frozen watching her disappear into the night.

“Snap out of it kid. Go after her.” Plagg flew in front of his face and waved his little paws around as he floated upside down.

“You’re right, Plagg claws out.”

A flash of green washed over Adrien as he jumped off the balcony. He felt the rush of the miraculous magic flow through his veins for the first time in years. He’d missed his alter ego and his body reacted as if catapulting through the air was second nature to him. He landed hard on a roof top and ran on all fours, letting his limbs stretch as he leapt to the next building.

He was catching up to the red glow and a surge of adrenaline shot through his system driving him forwards. Before long he could make out her form. She was heading to the Eiffel tower. It surprised him that she’d head there. The two had spent many nights together watching Paris from above.

He reached the tower and landed on their old perch. He was sure this is where he last saw her but there was no sight of her. Chat shook his head and was about to head to the top for a better look when something slammed into his back. The weight pinned him to the ground, he instinctively knew who it was. All his senses were tingling, and it got worse as he felt her hot breath in his ear.

“You shouldn’t have followed me.”

Chat’s heart was racing. He wanted to see her. To feel her touch. To hear her voice even if it was only to yell at him. Hot tears fell from his closed eyes and he forced himself to breath.

“I’d rather die than lose you again.” He hadn’t anticipated saying it with such force and neither had Ladybug.

Chat felt her weight shift slightly and before he knew what he was doing he had her pined on her back. He held her hands above her head with one hand and cradled her head with the other. Her blue eyes reflected the stairs above and his heart clenched when he noticed tears wetting her long lashes. Her bottom lip trembled as she started to lose control of her emotions.

“I’m sorry princess. I’m sorry for everything. For taking your pappa away. For leaving you to deal with it. For not saying goodbye. For not telling you how much I love you. Every part of you. Not just Ladybug but Marinette.” He choked out as tears streamed down his face and landed on hers.

“I don’t blame you if you can’t forgive me, god knows I haven’t. I just want a chance to show you how much you mean to me. We could have a new beginning, forget about Hawkmoth and move away. We could go anywhere you want. I know you’re tired so let somebody else take over.” Chat begged as he let go of her hands to wipe his tear-stained face.

Ladybug hadn’t taken her eyes off his. He meant every word he’d said but he hadn’t meant to say it all like that and definitely not all at once.

In one swift movement she unclipped her vail and grabbed his face. Before he could react, her lips crashed into his with such force it hurt. Chat recovered quickly and he melted into the kiss. It was everything he’s dreamed of and more. Her lips sent shockwaves through his system and a low rumble escaped the back of his throat. She bit his lip hard and he moaned allowing her tongue into his mouth. He hadn’t experienced passion like this before. His whole body tingled where hers touched his and he felt as if he might self-combust at any moment.

At some point they had moved and now Ladybug was on top of Chat. She abruptly ended the kiss and straight away Chat missed her lips against his. She pushed the hair out of his eyes and sighed.

“We can’t have a new beginning Chat. The only thing I can focus on is the ending. His ending. I’m going to make him suffer for everything he stole from me. I won’t take you down that road with me. You still have a chance.” And with that she took off into the night sky leaving Chat behind.

Chat tried to get up, but he tripped on his tail that had conveniently tangled around his legs and he fell to his knees. By the time he’d untangled himself she was gone. He looked over the city, their city, and he made a silent promise to himself. He was going to save her from herself. He would make up for everything he’d done even if it took the rest of his life, they would get their new beginning.

Part 2

[serenlyss]

Parting Promise

Fandom: The Owl House Rating: G Relationships: lumity Summary: Summer is over, and it's time for Luz to go home. Distressed over the uncertainty of Luz's return, Amity asks her to make a promise... Crossposted to AO3: Parting Promise

So uuhh that new episode huh? I have a lot of thoughts about AOAW, some of which I'm planning more fics around, but for now, have some angst inspired by @frankielucky‘s comic. Be sure to give them and their incredible art some love!

---

Luz sucks in a deep breath as she stands in front of the glowing portal of a door Eda had summoned for her, then lets it out in a single, drawn-out exhale. It stands wide open, revealing a seemingly eternal, softly glowing white void. Nervously, she crosses and uncrosses her fingers to let out some of her anxious energy. Although Luz knows what lays behind it, her inability to see past the silvery veil of light only worsens her anxiety about going home. She’s nervous beyond reason to see her mother again, and to return to the world where she had been shunned. What will her mother say? How will she react, when Luz finally tells her the truth of where she’s been all summer? Will she be angry? Disappointed? The two of them have had their fair share of arguments, but the thought of getting into a serious fight with her mother is… nerve-wracking, to say the least.

She’s already said goodbye. She’d spent the last few days letting everyone know where she’s going and that she may not be returning, but her closest friends had come to see her off personally. They hadn’t come with her to the door; Luz had insisted they not accompany her, and had instead parted with them back at the Owl House. Willow and Gus had come, of course, as had Amity.

Amity. In just about every way, she is Luz’s closest friend, and saying goodbye to her had been the hardest--even harder than with Eda. She’d said her farewells while fighting back tears, and she’d been able to tell that Amity was doing the same when she’d left. Just thinking about it makes Luz’s throat tighten up a little, a constrictive force that causes her breathing to hitch against her will. She swallows back the pit of remorse that forms in her stomach. There’s no doubt in her mind that Amity is the person she’ll miss the most once she’s back in the human world.

Briefly, she reflects on how close the two of them have gotten over the months Luz had spent at the Boiling Isles. Eda had made constant jokes about how inseparable they’d become, and Luz could tell by the knowing looks that she’d occasionally sent her way that she’d picked up on her more… romantic feelings. She wonders if Amity had ever noticed. She wonders if Amity would even be receptive of her silly crush. Not that it makes much of a difference at this point. Luz is going home, back to her real family, to her real life. Amity will go back to hers, the way things were always meant to be. Even if it hurts. Even if it feels wrong. Even if Luz really, really doesn’t want to say goodbye.

She sighs, turning her gaze downward. If there’s anything she regrets, it’s not telling Amity how she really feels. Even if she knows it will be easier this way, it still lingers in her mind, the one piece of business she’s unable to wrap up before she goes. Part of her hopes Amity doesn’t feel sad over this for too long, while the other part of her loathes the idea of the two of them drifting apart. She really hopes this isn’t the last time she’ll ever get to see her.

There’s still a chance, of course. A chance that her mother will see things the way Luz does, that she’ll finally understand why summer camp would have been so torturous. Why Luz feels so much more at home at the Owl House than she’d ever felt in her own house. But there’s a bigger chance that she’ll be shut down immediately and forced back into her normal, boring, sad life, where her interests are pushed aside as childish, and fitting in is all that matters.

She shakes her head. If she dwells on these thoughts for too long, she’ll chicken out and retreat back to the Owl House, where she’s safe, and nothing will be fixed. No, she can’t back out now. Her mother is expecting her. There are things she needs to work out as soon as possible. She steels her nerve, tightening her grip on the strap of her duffel bag, and takes a step toward the bright white void.

“Luz!”

She freezes in her tracks as Amity’s familiar voice calls out to her, her entire body tensing in surprise and dread. Immediately, she feels her emotions start to dredge themselves up again. Why? Why had she come, after Luz had asked her not to? Why did she feel the need to make this as hard as she could? She takes a shaky breath, turning to face her friend and forcing a small smile onto her face. “Amity, you were supposed to stay with Eda,” she chides gently, but her body subconsciously shies away, as though ashamed.

But Amity doesn’t pause in her approach. Luz’s eyes widen in surprise when Amity runs straight into her, wrapping her up in a tight hug and hiding her face in Luz’s shoulder. “I don’t care,” she says shakily, and it’s at this point that Luz registers the tears in her friend’s eyes. Is Amity… crying? “I-I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to leave me.”

Luz has never seen Amity break down like this, and she would never, in a hundred years, expect this to happen over her, of all people. It takes her a few seconds, but she finally remembers to move her arms, wrapping them around Amity in return and pulling her close. “Hey, it’s not going to be forever,” she reminds her, letting one hand travel up to smooth down Amity’s hair. “At least, I hope not. I just need to clear things up with my mom. She… she’ll understand. Eventually.”

Amity shakes her head against Luz’s shoulder. “You don’t know that,” she insists, her voice wavering and cracking. She’s leaving wet patches on the shoulder of Luz’s hoodie. “You have to come back, okay? It’ll be so lonely with you gone…”

Luz’s heart breaks for Amity. She knows all too well what it’s like to feel alone, to have no one to turn to and no one to confide in. But Amity does have people she can trust, now, even with Luz gone. “It’ll be okay. You won’t be alone, you’ll have Eda, and Willow, and Gus, and Ed and Em. I know your siblings can be pretty obnoxious sometimes, but they still love you,” she says, gently pulling Amity out of the embrace so she can talk to her face to face. “You have so many good friends now that you can go to if you’re in trouble.” She breaks eye contact with Amity, glancing down at the ground sadly. “You don’t really need me anymore, you know? You’ll be fine, I know you will.”

Amity goes quiet, and when Luz looks back up at her friend, her eyes are filled with shifting emotions. Shock, denial, sadness, and finally, anger. “Don’t need you? What are you talking about, you idiot?” she demands. “Of course I need you, you’re my best friend! How could you say that? Aren’t you sad?”

Luz backpedals immediately. “I am sad, I just…” She bites her lip and averts her gaze from Amity’s, trailing off. “I don’t know how my mom is going to react to… all of this. I’m going to do my best, and I really hope that I won’t have to be away for long, but I just don’t know. I don’t know anything.” The reality of the situation is really starting to get to her, now. She can feel the tears starting to come, pooling at the corners of her eyes. She blinks rapidly, willing them to disappear, but it’s pointless.

Amity grasps Luz by both shoulders, prompting her to meet her gaze once more. She looks sad, and scared, and helpless--three emotions that Luz rarely gets to see come from her friend. “Promise me,” she commands, her voice firm and authoritative despite her obvious state of distress. Her fingers shake as they curl into the fabric of Luz’s hoodie. “Promise me that you’ll come back.”

Luz hesitates. She knows better than to make a promise she may not be able to keep, even though she really, really wants to. She opens her mouth to say as much, then pauses. It’s as though a bulb lights up in her head, a spark of inspiration. It’s a half-baked ploy, and probably pretty stupid to make on impulse like this, but it’s the only way she can think of conveying her intentions to Amity. “Give me a minute,” she says, then swiftly pulls off her duffel bag and lets it fall to the ground.

Amity watches Luz in confusion as she rifles through the contents of the bag and produces a pen. She clicks it open, tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth, and begins to hurriedly scribble on her palm.

“What are you doing?” Amity asks, unable to see what Luz is drawing from her angle.

Luz has never had to seriously use this spell before. Eda had taught it to her after the Covention, to prevent getting cheated like she had during her very first witch’s duel, but it had been a purely precautionary measure, so that Luz could know how the spell works and how to avoid it should she ever need to. Now, it comes in handy for the first time. She tucks the pen away into her bag and straightens up onto her feet again, holding out her hand. “Ask me again,” she says, drawing her shoulders back confidently in a show of her determination.

Amity blinks, confused. She still can’t see what Luz has drawn, but she obliges nonetheless. “Please, Luz. Promise me that you’ll come back,” she repeats, her voice soft and vulnerable.

Luz feels the tears come freely now, but this time she’s overwhelmed not by sadness, but by warmth. When Amity reaches out and takes her hand, she feels a rush of potent, blind affection for her, for the trust they share. A ring of purple draws itself around their clasped hands.

“It’s an oath,” Luz murmurs, voice quivering.

The light from the everlasting oath casts Amity’s dumbfounded face in shades of pastel purple, and Luz catches the glint of it reflecting off her yellow eyes as she stares back at her, speechless. “Luz…”

But Luz cuts her off, firmly stating, “I will be back, I promise. Even if I have to go against my mom’s wishes, I’ll come back. The Boiling Isles is my home now. I have more of a connection to this place than I do to the house I grew up in. I promise you, Amity, I won’t be gone for long.”

A watery smile comes to Amity’s face, and she tugs Luz into another tight hug. She shifts her grip on Luz’s hand, intertwining their fingers together while maintaining the contact from Luz’s spell. “You better not be,” she replies. “Who will go to Grom with me next year if my fearless champion is missing in action?”

It’s meant to be a joke—Luz knows it is—but it still makes her face flame. “Well, then I’ll make sure to be back by then,” she banters back, and revels in the way Amity’s shy smile makes her heart swell with fondness.

Feeling brave and a little drunk on her giddiness, Luz leans forward and presses her lips against Amity’s forehead in a brief kiss. “Don’t miss me too much, ‘kay? And make sure to text me. Cross-dimensional cell signal is a blessing I do not intend to waste,” she says. 

When she pulls back, Amity’s face is flushed bright pink. Luz can’t help but feel somehow proud that she’s able to goad such a reaction out of her crush. “O-Okay,” she replies lamely. The awkwardness of it only makes Luz’s affection grow. She wonders if Amity knows just how adorable she can be when she lets herself be honest like this.

Luz pulls her hand out of Amity’s grasp. The eternal oath’s light fades along with the contact, and for a moment she feels disappointed, but she quickly pushes that aside. There will be plenty of time to hold Amity’s hand once I’m back for good, she reminds herself, if only to give herself a little boost of confidence for what lay ahead. She picks up her duffel bag and slings it back over her shoulders, then gives Amity the biggest, goofiest smile she can muster. “Well, I’m off! Tell Eda to lock the door behind me.”

Amity wraps one arm around her middle, raising the other up in a tiny wave. “Okay, I’ll do that,” she replies, still teary-eyed, but with a smile on her face.

Luz gives a nod of approval, stepping one foot over the door’s threshold. “I’ll see you soon, Amity. That’s a promise,” she says, her last parting words, and steps fully through the portal, tugging the door shut behind her.

[bubble-tea-bunny]

until the night collapses

[leon s kennedy x reader]

author’s note: leon is hella good looking in the remake and my eyes have been blessed

word count: 3,056

Driving through rain, especially at night, always warrants extra caution. As such, Leon’s foot is steady on the gas, having been cruising at a comfortable speed for the past several miles. The roads have been mostly devoid of traffic, though he had passed one or two cars going the other direction. It’s an emptiness he’d considered a little strange at first, but he’s quick to brush it off. He’s just glad he doesn’t have to worry about anyone tailing him before swerving to the opposite lane to pass. A downpour still wasn’t enough for some people to slow down. But when he pulls into the Mizoil gas station to fill the tank, he learns the rain is the least of his problems.

It’s a hell of a first day, that’s for sure. He thought he was the only one at the station with a still beating heart (at least after watching an Arklay County officer get a nasty bite to the neck from… something, which left him good as dead) until Claire had shown up. A stroke of luck would have the keys still in the ignition of the police cruiser, and they were off.

If someone asked him what he would’ve expected his welcome to Raccoon City to be like, he couldn’t give a straight answer, but it definitely isn’t this. Abandoned cars are pulled over to either side of the street, and he drives through the open center, intended for emergency vehicles no longer anywhere in sight. Eventually even that’s blocked off, and in a fit of timing he struggles to say was good or not, the welcome committee arrives in the form of a fuel truck narrowly crushing the car to scrap metal. It kills any of the zombies trying to pry the doors open to get to him and Claire, but the force of the collision throws him forward, and his head collides with the steering wheel none too nicely. If he were to look into a mirror right now, he’d see a nasty bruise darkening on his forehead. He doesn’t need to see it to know it’s there, for light pressure applied to the offended area with the tips of his fingers and the ensuing throb let him know just as well.

This last hour had merely been the tip of the very large, very precarious iceberg. The fire caused by the cruiser exploding gave him no choice but to split up with Claire. Arriving at, and diving within, the museum turned police department is his personal journey down the rabbit hole, but this is no Wonderland on the other side. Or maybe it is and the author of the whole sick story had a fucked up sense of humor. But what did he know? If this was a book he was only a character, at the mercy of the words and whatever would follow with each turn of the page.

He’s seen more death and gore than anyone should have to see, and it’s a level of carnage he can’t help but recoil at. Being a police officer requires not only an iron will but an iron stomach, but he thinks he should be given a pass this time. Fighting his way through hordes of undead as he tries to find out what the hell is going on was not listed in the job description. When he’s trekking down what feels like the millionth dark corridor, blood and guts stuck to the bottom of his boots, he muses half with cynicism and half with fatigue, for it has been a long night, that maybe it’s because if it had been mentioned, no one would apply. And maybe there are some who would jump at the chance to play hero, but in the end logic wins out and prompts many of them to stay away, since it’s something else entirely to be thrown into the mess and realize one is vastly outnumbered, and against an enemy with nothing to fear.

At the west office, he cracks the first smile in what feels like an eternity. It’s a small one, followed closely by a quiet chuckle at the scene before him. Streamers dangle from the ceiling, and a banner stretches across from one wall to the other: Welcome Leon. He reads the note on his desk and feels a twinge in his chest. These were supposed to be his colleagues. Life would’ve been so different if the keep away message hadn’t been sent to him a week prior, if there hadn’t been a reason to stay out of the city and the wheels were still turning like they’re meant to.

He passes by one of the desks, and his flashlight passes over a nameplate with your name on it. Your workspace, much like the others here, is thrown in disarray. Papers are scattered and various trinkets you had to decorate the area are broken. There are sticky notes still stuck to the edge of the shelf attached to your desk, some of them quick reminders of tasks to do and others silly notes from your fellow officers.  

Cracked glass hidden in the shadowy corner grabs his attention, and he reaches a hand out for it. His fingers curl around a wooden frame, which he gingerly picks up, mindful of the sharp point of the glass. This must be you in the photo. You’re in a graduation uniform, diploma in one hand and your dog held in the other. It’s not looking at the camera, but rather up at you, who smile widely, a toothy grin that reaches your eyes. The time stamp in the bottom right corner indicates this is a recent photo.

There’s so much personality at your desk, and in your bright gaze captured forever in a picture, that for a moment he swears he feels less alone. He feels like he knows you. Maybe he’d be one of the officers to write small notes to tack to your desk, or maybe you would do that to his. Maybe he would’ve met your dog. What’s its name, he wonders?

With a sigh he sets the frame back down, and reality rushes back, and he hopes he won’t see your body laying around somewhere, discarded and almost unrecognizable. Chances are high that you’ve been infected and haven’t survived, but all the same, he doesn’t want to come across you. He’s not sure why he wants to grasp so tightly onto the image of your smile, and to not allow it to be tainted by visions of a corpse. Perhaps it’s because it’s his last hold to something humane, to something that could help retain his sanity in the midst of the chaos. Lieutenant Branagh had already succumbed to his wounds, and Claire was nowhere to be found. Leon doesn’t know if she’s still alive. So all that left was you.

Ada turning up proves he isn’t the only one remaining in the whole building with his wits still about him, and with his heart and brain in tact. She isn’t keen on sharing much information, and what little she divulges only raises more questions. He couldn’t have begun to guess what caused this shit storm. All of it sounds crazy, but judging by Ada’s tone, this is no tall tale.

They had stumbled upon Annette Birkin. There’s no better word for it. They train their guns on her, and Leon thinks to himself that she doesn’t seem threatening, and definitely not as dangerous as Ada had made her out to be. But maybe that’s how it goes. The most dangerous could be the least assuming. He doesn’t know to what lengths she will go to protect the G-Virus, but he’s not left speculating for long, for she brandishes her own gun and opens fire, and he doesn’t hesitate running towards Ada, shielding her and bringing them both to the ground.

The bullet in his shoulder registers as a low burn, and his vision is becoming hazy. It becomes difficult to ignore the pain, and he remembers telling Ada to go after Annette before passing out from shock. He hadn’t even been aware of the transition from consciousness to unconsciousness. He was simply awake, though weakening fast, and then he wasn’t.

Now he’s in a house, one he doesn’t recognize. The sun is shining outside, and his feet are carrying him through the hallway like they have a mind of their own, for he isn’t willing himself to walk. He just is. They bring him to a bedroom where the curtains are drawn back, the light flooding in a bit too intense to be normal. The edges of everything are out of focus and no matter how many times he blinks, they stay fuzzy.

I was wondering where you went. The figure in the bed sits up slightly to look at him better. Your hair is ruffled and you watch him with a sleep-riddled grin. He knows he should be surprised to see you there. None of this is adding up. This isn’t real. But he’s not deterred by any such thoughts as he smiles back like this is the way things always were.

He crawls beneath the sheets to join you, apologizing while he does. Sorry. At first he wasn’t certain if he actually was in control, or if he was only watching everything play out like a movie, like there was a script. But if it had at the start been the latter, it was now the former, as he starts to play along, eyes sliding closed as you lean in to kiss him. The spot where your lips meet is warm, and his arms curl around you to bring you closer.

Once you pull away, you murmur that you love him, and he feels his heart stop. He brings a hand up to caress your cheek, where a rosy flush has settled, and says he loves you too. This prompts you to smile that beautiful smile of yours, and it’s still just as captivating when tinged with fatigue. He runs his thumb across your bottom lip, smooth and plush, and he wants to kiss you again so he does.

In the back of his mind he knows this isn’t real, but God, he wishes it were. His fingers tangle in your hair, his free hand sneaking beneath the oversized shirt you wear to run along the heated skin of your waist, and everything feels fine. Everything feels perfect. He’s reminded of that saying, of one’s life flashing before their eyes, and he wonders if this is it. Or something close. Because this isn’t the past. He doesn’t know what it is. It would seem he had held on to you so securely that he’s started to dream of you. His stomach is doing flips like a cage of butterflies has just been let loose, and you’re smiling again, and it’s the flower they’re all searching for.

Are you okay? you inquire gently, brushing his hair from his eyes.

He stares into the depths of your own and they feel so much like home that he’s not pretending anymore. His chest is bursting with a love that feels too real to be mere imagination. And he starts to believe it, that life has always been this way, and would always be this way, and he’s just had a bad dream he won’t trouble you by sharing. He doesn’t want you to worry. Yeah, I’m okay.

Maybe this is his life flashing before his eyes, but it’s less about life in the sense of all the years gone by, and more about life in the form of a person, of the one who means the most to him. And despite knowing so little about you, his subconscious pulls at the image of you he stored away, bringing it to the forefront so that he’s convinced you are his life. That’s why he sees you now, and why he desperately clings on, to this blissful moment, suspended in time. He never wants to let go.

It’s also why he feels so helplessly hollow when he finally wakes—reluctantly, and with a heaviness closing in on his heart. He’s back in the cold corridor, back in the station, sitting up against the hard wall with Ada’s trench coat acting as a makeshift shock blanket and his injury wrapped with gauze stained dark red. You’re in his periphery, your warmth and your smile gradually fading away, and he’s thinking Don’t go or maybe he’s said it out loud, muttered to the air with a cracked voice.

They say things get worse before they better, but in this case, they get so bad Leon doubts there could be any improvement. He ventures lower underground, in pursuit of Annette and the G-Virus. He fights monsters he never thought could exist outside horror movies, and uncovers truths he had suspected but that he wanted to hope weren’t true at all. If Annette’s words were not sufficient confirmation, the fact he’s staring down the barrel of Ada’s firearm is.

Suddenly a gunshot rings through the air and a bullet sinks into Ada’s skin, but Leon hadn’t fired. Twisting around, he gets a short glimpse of Annette before the bridge collapses and the G-Virus sample tumbles down to the depths below, but Leon grabs Ada before she can fall too. Attempts to pull her up put stress on the already unstable bridge and it sinks to an even sharper angle, and he spits out a curse of frustration.

The two of them can’t remain like that forever, however, and he feels his hold slipping. Ada doesn’t look worried, wants him to let go because otherwise, they both die. It’s not worth it. But to Leon it is, and he knows she’d never understand why. He had to let go of you and leave you behind once he returned to consciousness, and it had hurt more than it should have. So perhaps he’s thinking of you as he holds onto Ada, for he doesn’t want to go through that again. This time, he won’t let go.

But reality is quite literally crashing down around them and the reality is he’s holding on to Ada, not you. And her wrist slides out of his grip, and she disappears in the darkness. He stares into the abyss, extending so far it’s like there is no end. His breaths come out rushed due to adrenaline, corners of his eyes pooling with tears refusing to fall, but there’s no time to mourn as he kicks himself into gear, standing and moving to steadier ground. The self-destruct sequence has begun. He doesn’t have long to get out.

His way of escape is at the bottom level of the lab, and he’s shooting his way through hordes of zombies when he hears it: echoes of another firing into the packs of undead. He follows it, thinking it’s Claire, but it’s not. He stops firing in his surprise, and he’s caught so off guard he’s unable to even exclaim your name in a quiet huff of disbelief under his breath.

You catch sight of him, and not letting yourself become distracted at finding someone else still alive in here, you call out The exit is up ahead! You haven’t noticed his shock, a second he spends looking like a deer caught in headlights, for you’re too preoccupied with other more urgent matters to have done so. Leon forces himself to look away and help take down the remainder of the zombies blocking the path. Past the exit door, the lights of a train begin flashing on the walls, and at the first opening, you sprint through, Leon following close behind.

His wider strides let him catch up to you, and he’s first to hop onto the train, grabbing the bar to swing himself up. Then he holds a hand out to you, stretching as far as he can. Come on! There’s an explosion and the building starts to crumble, and the strength of the blast pushes you forward. With a lunge, you thrust your arm out to grab onto his hand, and he pulls you up with the last bit of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Both of you collapse against the train car, breathing hard. Leon’s in rough shape, but you’re no better. You’re littered with cuts and bruises, your clothes are filthy, and your tied up hair is half falling out of the ponytail you had it in. It’s silent for a while as both of you calm down, and then Leon sneaks a glance at you. A part of him had still been skeptical that it could be true, that you’ve been alive this whole time, but it’s unmistakable. He’d burned that photo of you into his brain, and it’s a match, and he knows he’s not imagining you here next to him.

As though you can feel him staring, which you most probably do, you look over at him and meet his eyes. Now that you’re breathing normally again, you speak quietly, the fatigue finally setting in.

“Lucky we got out just in time.” You smile, and Leon’s heart is twisting to see it for real, and it’s more amazing than what he’d seen in the picture, or in his dream. He never wants you to stop looking at him like that. He wants to get lost in that gentle curve and in your soft gaze. After the hell he’s been through, he thinks he could fall asleep in them forever.

He chuckles. “Yeah, it is.”

He introduces himself and holds a hand out, and you tell him your name as you shake it. Without even fully realizing it, he’s grinning with a fondness that could only come from familiarity and a fulfilled longing, and he states Nice to meet you, [Name]. It’s really something to be saying your name out loud. It feels perfect on his tongue, his lips curling around each syllable with incredible care, like he’s reciting a prayer.

Maybe what he’d dreamed wasn’t what could’ve been; maybe it was what will be. And as the train rushes out of the ruined city and you drift off in well-deserved rest, head drooping to lean on Leon’s shoulder, he knows he’s already in love with you.

[kpopplayroom]

First Crush (Pt 2)

Nyx and I have been working on this together for the past little bit. Hope you’re enjoying it. 

Choi 

Years passed, Jiyong often thought of her; the first person to pull him out of his shell, that embraced his quirks, he owed her everything, he was living quite the life because of her. 

“Just pretend that it’s just us,” she gave his hand a squeeze, “The whole world deserves to know this mind of yours.” 

What was she up to, he wondered, he had heard through friends, that she had moved away in the last few years of high school, was she keeping tabs on him too?   He pulls out his phone, searches different variations of her name. Nothing. 

Jiyong sigh, he should’ve seized the moment, he would’ve ran straight to her after the audition, the months that came after were hard, and when he had to go back to square one, he wished so badly that he still had her.  

A text message to meet up with his members,brought him back to reality. 

*** 

 “Y/N!” 

You spot your best friend flagging you down. It was so nice to see a familiar face after what felt like days of travel, you also couldn’t deny the feeling of being back home. Your wanderlust had taken you away, for a few years, now it was time to settle and be back amongst friends. 

“I missed you!” she squealed giving you a big hug, she holds your face in her hands, “Is it really you?” 

You laugh, “don’t be silly, it hasn’t been that long.” 

“It’s been forever.” she loops her arm into yours as you walk towards the baggage claim. 

“Has it always been this ridiculously busy in the airport?” 

You took notice of all the commotion that was surrounding the two of you; you were narrowly missed a few times, by girls running past. 

“Probably some celebrity coming back, you know how it is.” she rolls her eyes. 

“Incredible.” 

You look back to see who it could be, you catch eyes with one of the members. Something inside you ticks, those eyes, but you were just catching up on all the gossip on the flight, maybe he was one of the celebrities. 

“Yah~! We should hurry up and get out of here before it gets crazy.” 

You agree and follow her lead; there was something about those eyes, you definitely knew them. 

*** 

Jiyong wasn’t sure, there were the odd times that fans would show up in multiple venues; that had to be it. He quickly follows the path made for him, head down, and he hears it, that laugh. 

He quickly turns to the direction, only to be blocked by a crowd of people, he gets into the awaiting vehicle and drops into his seat and prayed that if it was her, that they would cross paths. Hs head pressed against the window, the buildings blur as they whiz through the city streets. 

*** 

“It feels so good to be back,” you say, taking a sip of soju, “There’s nothing quite like it.” 

“It’s good to have you back” 

You had decided to stop in at your favourite snack shop, from when you were kids, a spot that you had frequented often as teens. 

“Everything tastes the same!” You exclaim savouring each bite. 

“Soak it in, I need a favour.” 

You rolled your eyes, it was never anything easy with her and you always were left alone, “Absolutely not.” 

“I’ll spare you the details, but its open bar, and I need to make a quick appearance, then it’s whatever you want to do.” She pouted her lip, and clasped her hands together, “Anything you want. I promise.” 

You closed your eyes, to stop her charm from working, “Ugh! Fine, but you promised; but I get to cash in whenever I want.” 

Her face lit up as she extends her pinky finger, “a work party, it’ll be worth it, I promise.”

“FIne, “ you finish the pinky promise, “But,remember cash in whenever I want.” 

*** 

Two days later you found yourself sitting in front of your bathroom mirror; half a face on cursing, your friend for taking advantage of your jetlagged, alcohol fueled state of mind. You glanced over to your phone, there was still time to cancel, it would be really short notice, and she’d probably hate you forever but it was a chance you were willing to take. 

Just then your phone lights up,  Don’t even think about it! Tons of fun tonight, promise!” 

She wasn’t wrong, you two always had a good time when you were together. You finish your face and get into a long sleeved black dress that ended mid thigh, and had an open back, it was the perfect dress, and gotten you some excellent sexcapades.  

You check your lips one more time before slipping into, a pair of red peep toe pumps. It had really been a while. 

“Okay.” you grab your clutch and brace yourself for the night, “Man, I hope I get some tonight.” 

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 26)

Blessed Are The Peacemakers

Well, y’all know what’s going to happen in this chapter. Poor Arthur :(

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

The moment Dutch and Micah rode back into camp after their meeting with Colm O'Driscoll, I knew something was wrong. Dutch looked livid, far angrier than I had ever seen him before. He swung down from his Arabian and marched straight towards his tent, snapping at Hosea to join him and pushing carelessly past a concerned Molly. I looked towards the treeline for a third rider, but it was just the two of them. Other members of the camp looked on with frowns on their faces, nobody seemed to have the guts to ask what had happened, though. Micah was dawdling around the horses, giving his own a stick of celery and removing its saddle, hanging it over one of the hitching posts. 

I found myself approaching him, something he seemed very pleased about. 

"Micah," I greeted him, nodding politely. A smile broke across his face and he swanned over to me after giving his horse a parting pat on the neck. 

"Hey there, sugarplum," he drawled in his usual mocking fashion. 

"What happened? Where's Arthur?" I cut to the chase, and he soured at the mention of his name.

"Arthur," he muttered with distaste, "couldn't seem to do his job."

"What do you mean?" I questioned, something cold piercing into my belly. 

"Our truce didn't go so well, meaning it did not happen. Morgan was supposed to meet us after keeping watch over us, but he either got lost on the way to his look-out point or he's ran off with the bastards, I don't really know," he shrugged theatrically and walked away from me. I gave chase, mouth chewing up words messily before I managed to get anything resembling English to form on my tongue.

"You don't know where he is?" I asked loudly, horrified, gaining a few looks from others in the vicinity. 

"Relax, woman," he sighed heavily, spinning around to face me. "He might be a dumbass but he's capable enough of defending himself if push comes to shove."

"You're going to look for him, right? You and Dutch?" I urged, following him all the way over to Dutch's tent. 

"No, we're absolutely not going to go looking for him, because it wouldn't surprise me if that's exactly what Colm wants us to do," Dutch answered, hearing our conversation as we approached. I stared at him, mouth agape. "Don't look at me like that, you have no idea about Colm O'Driscoll."

"So– so you're just gonna leave him?" I hissed, unable to comprehend what was happening, sick with worry, my heart throbbing almost painfully inside my rib cage. Everything outside of my direct point of vision was a total murky blur. I shook a hand from my arm, unable to tell if it was Micah or Hosea when I was staring straight at Dutch.

"If I could just get five minutes," Dutch raised his voice, bringing his hands up to his temples, "to think about what I'm gonna do!"

I retreated a little, eyes dropping to the floor, mind spinning with possibilities, options, potential actions, images of Arthur in all kinds of situations. 

"I will come with you, I can shoot, I promise you I can, I can help. If you would just–” 

"Somebody get her out of here, I can barely hear myself think!" Dutch yelled, then I was being gently pulled away by a pair of cool hands on my upper arms. I let it happen as I heard Dutch spout off some more. "Don't even know why she's getting all het up, been here barely ten minutes!" 

"Don't mind her, Dutch, she's got a silly little crush," I heard Micah tell him snidely.

"Oh, that is the last thing we need–” Dutch replied, but Hosea took me away from them before I caught any more of their conversation. 

He sat me down on a log facing out over the lake, and crouched down in front of me. Even I heard the way his joints cracked as he did, but he didn't seem fazed. He took one of my hands in his, and I finally found it in me to look him in the eye. He had gentle eyes, those that belonged to literally anyone other than who I'd think of as an outlaw.

"Take a breath now, dear," he told me, and I was thankful for the reminder, having been sitting so stiff and tense I hadn't really been breathing. 

The breath I did take was shaky and betrayed my nerves. 

"It's all going to be alright, we'll fix this," Hosea said.

"Mr. Matthews, what's happening? The others are coming to all sorts of conclusions about Arthur," I heard Miss Grimshaw from over my shoulder and I squeezed my eyes shut. 

"We… we don't know. Try not to worry, Susan, and keep everyone calm. We think Colm's boys got him, but we've no reason to fear the worst just yet. Dutch is thinking things through," Hosea explained in a surprisingly placid tone of voice. There was a pause and Hosea nodded minutely at Susan, and I had the sense that she'd mouthed something behind my back, then I felt a careful hand on my shoulder lingering for only a moment before she walked away.

"He's gonna do something, right? Cause if he ain't, I'll go out there myself–" I started, and Hosea held his hand up to halt me.

"He'll figure something, he always does. I tried to warn him that this wasn't a good idea, but I guess the chance to make one of our problems go away was just too shiny to pass up."

"If Arthur…" I trailed off, my throat suddenly feeling tight, eyes going cloudy. I scrubbed at them and took a breath. 

"He's a tough one, I'm sure you know that. He can hold his own," Hosea assured me, squeezing my hand. "I know that you and Arthur have grown close."

A sound burst from me, something like a laugh, and I nodded my head. Hosea nodded too, brow creasing with pity. 

"Try not to lose your head, now. You think Arthur'd want you to worry like this? Gettin' all worked up?" He asked and I shook my head, willing the tears in my eyes to evaporate before they could get the better of me.

"No, you're right, I'm just worried. Arthur; he's… he's the only person I've ever felt–" I stopped mid sentence, biting down on my bottom lip. Hosea nodded again and patted the back of my hand, looking down at it.

"Arthur's been in a disturbingly good mood, last couple of weeks. I think you're doing him some good, my dear. You're a good kid, you've settled right in here and you pull your weight better than some of these who've been here for years," he gave a quiet laugh before continuing. "I'm real glad to have you, and I hope you don't take some of the things Dutch says to heart. I know he hasn't always been in the best of moods when you've spoken to him before."

"I don't. I'm sure Dutch has a lot of things on his plate, being the leader and all, my sensibilities shouldn't be one of 'em," I shrugged my shoulders weakly and Hosea released a soft breath. 

"Like I said, you're a good kid," he told me then pushed himself upright. "Would you like me to send someone over?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you."

"Alright then, sweetheart. I'll go and find out what Dutch is up to. We'll get our boy back, some way or another," he patted my shoulder before leaving me alone. 

I took a few moments for myself, leaning my elbows on my knees and staring down at the ground. My talk with Hosea had calmed me down some, but I wouldn't be able to swallow my worry without seeing Arthur first. I knew that sitting around feeling sorry for myself was doing nobody any favours, so I soon rose to my feet and walked over to Pearson's station.

The man himself had abandoned dinner, and so I picked up where he left off in its preparation. A scan of the camp found him sitting by the fire, head in his hands; I remembered that it was him who'd brought this meeting with the O'Driscolls to Dutch's attention. He must've felt terrible. Tilly was sat next to him, speaking quietly to him. Everyone else was, I realised with horror, staring right at me. I met their gazes, eyes flickering from Bill, to Karen, to Reverend Swanson before everyone suddenly found the fire very interesting and focused their attention on that instead of me. 

I'd seen it written all over their faces, though, anyone who didn't know about Arthur and I certainly had some sort of suspicion now. They eyed me with curiosity, surprise, disbelief, after no doubt seeing my mini-breakdown with Dutch and Hosea respectively. Whatever they thought, though, I couldn't much care about. I threw myself into finishing the food for everyone, never mind the fact I couldn't stomach anything myself.

-

Time passed on and I had been torn between confronting Dutch about why the hell he hadn't gone out there yet, and going out myself. Night fell, however, and Dutch encouraged us all to get some sleep, promising a solution by the morning. Of course, I slept like shit, every passing moment filling my head with worse and worse images of what could be happening to my sweetheart. I didn't want to think what I was thinking, there was an aspect of dread that had me worrying that I would be willing it into reality, and we'd never see Arthur alive again. It was this thought pattern going around in circles in my brain; trying not to think about it and focusing so much on not thinking about it until it was all I could think about!

I ended up sitting on Arthur's bed, staring off into space. I hoped that I wouldn't be noticed when Sean ambled past towards the edge of camp, ready to replace whoever was currently keeping guard. I got my wish, Sean didn't even look my way, but Charles – whom he was taking over from – did. He stopped in his tracks on his way to bed, looking right at me, and I felt warmth creep up my neck to my cheeks at being caught in Arthur's space, where I really had no business being. 

Charles slowly approached me, hesitant in his steps. 

"Evening," he greeted in that low, level tone of his. 

"Hi, Charles," I responded quietly. 

There was a lengthy pause.

"You okay?" He asked. 

I didn't want to answer. Him showing care and concern, even in the detached, placid way Charles had with words, had set a lump in my throat. I simply nodded my head in place of a verbal answer, however Charles did not continue walking. At least not in the direction of his own bed; instead he joined me on Arthur's. 

"If you'd like to talk, I'm a good listener. I'm not much of a conversationalist, and I can't promise I'll be any good at responding, but I'll definitely listen," he offered.

"Thank you, but I fear if I talk, I'll cry," I admitted. He nodded his head slowly.

"I understand. Though, I know we break a lot of laws, but crying isn't a crime."

"I guess I'm kinda mad at…" I began, trailing off just as fast. I snuck a look at Charles, deciding whether or not it was a good idea to be honest. I didn't think he'd go off spouting everything I said to everyone else, but still. 

"Dutch?" He asked after my pause, reading my thoughts perfectly. 

I gauged his expression before nodding. 

"Yeah, I understand," he sighed.

"Are you?"

"Not particularly," he murmured, "it's a tough situation and I can see things from his side. The O'Driscolls will be expecting us to retaliate, could end real bad for us if we play into their expectations. We don't know exactly what Colm's planning, but I bet Arthur wouldn't want us jeopardising the gang for his sake."

"Well, I guess that's a point," I shrugged my shoulders glumly.

"But, that doesn't mean I don't feel like crap just sitting here, doing nothing," he added, meeting my eyes sympathetically. "Arthur, he's… I have a lot of respect for him. He does a lot for us."

I held his gaze for a while. "Yeah, he does. I guess that's why it's so hard for me to stand by while Dutch tells everyone he'll get to it in the morning. If it was anyone else in Arthur's position, Arthur himself would be straight out there, probably."

"You're probably right," he agreed. 

"I keep thinking about going… but I have no idea where he'd be. And even if I did find him, I'd get myself killed, no doubt."

"You're probably right about that, too. Don't do anything reckless," he gave a hollow laugh and I sighed. 

"I just feel awful," I shook my head, then leaned my head in my hands. I felt Charles' hand pat my upper back.

"Arthur isn't invincible, I'm not going to sit here and promise you he's going to be alright–"

"Thanks," I laughed drily.

"–and chances are it wouldn't bring you any comfort, anyway," he continued logically, "but what I will say is; he's strong. He can handle himself. If anyone can take on the O'Driscolls, it's Arthur."

"In that case, let's hope he strolls in here any second now, carrying Colm's severed head or something," I mumbled monotonously, and I heard him laugh through his nose. 

"Let's hope," he agreed, "anyway, sleep."

"I can't."

Charles stood up and gave me a small smile. "Laying down and closing your eyes might help."

"I… I really like him, Charles," I said, the corners of my mouth turning down, trembling. Charles' expression was unchanging besides a slight softening in his eyes.

"I know."

"I'm worried." 

Charles let out a breath, shifting slightly and averting his eyes. "Me too," he admitted, "but there's not a lot we can do, not until Dutch says something."

I nodded, reluctantly accepting the situation for what it was; pretty hopeless.

"I won't keep you, get some sleep," I told him. 

"You too," he said, nodding at me before heading to bed with a small, parting smile.

I didn't get to sleep until the very first hints of daylight were painting the sky a lighter shade of blue, and of course, it wasn't long after that everyone was getting up and making noise. I must've scrounged an hour or two of sleep, and upon waking up I threw myself into chores. I tried not to think too hard about Dutch, but I heard passing conversation whenever I was near his tent. 

"What if we send some men out looking, so we at least know where the O'Driscolls are hiding? We might be able to get a better sense of the situation, have a fighting chance of figuring something out," I heard Hosea pleading. 

"Who're you gonna send out? I ain't risking my neck, it'd be no surprise to me if they had the entire state's lawmen sittin' there waiting for us, the greasy bastard said they'd offered him a price for Dutch," Micah responded, and I frowned to myself. 

"I was asking Dutch," came Hosea's placid retort. 

"No, Micah is right. We can't just barge in there, we can't play into his hands so easily," Dutch said. 

"It wouldn't be barging in there, it'd be assessing the situation. What else do you suppose? We just leave him there? Dutch…" Hosea sounded irritated and even pained, and I had to walk away. It felt as if there was only one man in that tent that truly cared about Arthur.

Before I knew it, the day was passing. Arthur had been missing for over twenty four hours, and I was suddenly feeling quite numb. I recognised the feeling enough that I had to put effort into not consciously admitting it, but in the back of my mind I had assumed the worst. I was preparing myself for never seeing him again, thinking that even if we did send someone out to find him, they'd be doing so purely to put him to rest. I was no stranger to death, to loss, and the cold calmness I felt in my stomach was all too familiar. I remembered it well from the night before my mother died, and my father soon after. I was detaching myself from the situation, hoping to soften the blow.

But then, when darkness fell once again, a solo set of hoof beats sounded on the edge of camp. My stomach dropped when my head swivelled and my eyes found Jet, and at first I couldn't see anyone on the back of him. I shot to my feet as the barest light from the stars and the camp caught something sliding from the saddle onto the ground with a thud and a groan. 

I was hit with intense nausea and took off towards Arthur, yelling at the top of my lungs for everyone's attention. Women around me gasped and called out to Arthur, hot on my heels as we approached. I stalled when I was a few steps away from him, spotting blood; a lot of it, and I felt light headed. I wasn't squeamish, blood didn't bother me, it was the fact that it was Arthur's that had my head spinning.

But he was alive!

I quickly pulled myself together and closed the gap between us, coming around to crouch by his side, scanning his body to work out where the blood was coming from. He didn't seem with it, struggling to stay conscious, eyes glazing as he blearily looked up at me. He croaked my name weakly. 

"It's okay Arthur, you're safe, you're back at camp," I told him and my voice sounded eerily void of emotion. 

I discovered the source of the bleeding, he had a gory wound on his shoulder, torn through his union suit – which was all he was wearing – looked to have been caused by a bullet. Close range. Dutch showed up by my side, freezing just as I had before bending down and wrapping an arm around him, trying to ease him up. 

"I told you, Dutch. It was a set up," Arthur slurred, sagging against Dutch's arm. 

"My boy…" Dutch began, at a loss for words, face stricken with worry. The look turned my stomach, souring me. "You- you're okay, son. Swanson!"

The reverend came running up, squeezing in before me. I backed up to give them room along with everyone else, watching helplessly as the men hoisted Arthur up and began near enough carrying him over to his tent.

"I got away… Colm was gonna get the law on you. All of us," Arthur told him, head hanging between his shoulders before he was set down on his bed, laid down gingerly, careful of his shoulder. 

"I bet he was," Dutch said through a clenched jaw. "Don't you worry, son. You're safe now. You're home."

Miss Grimshaw appeared at my side, putting a comforting hand on the small of my back. I felt useless, just standing there and watching but I had no clue what else I could do. I willed someone to bark an order at me so that I could be of some use but nobody did. Arthur was drenched in sweat, his union suit soiled with dirt and blood, hair dishevelled and clinging to his face and neck. It was a complete shock to my system to see him look so vulnerable and wounded. A cold sweat rolled down the center of my spine as I began to fear the worst, yet again.

"Miss Grimshaw, will you sit with him a while?" Dutch asked, never glancing my way. 

"Of course," she said, letting go of me and pulling up a seat by Arthur's bed, whispering words of comfort to him. Dutch walked past me wordlessly and I just continued to stare at Arthur, completely and utterly frozen and useless. 

I heard my name form on Arthur's dried, swollen lips, and I was moving forward without telling my legs to do so. I dropped to my knees next to him, next to Susan, and with a shivering hand I gently patted his, not wanting to touch him too much in case I jostled an injury. 

"I'm here, Arthur, I am so sorry, I wish I could do something for you. What can I do?" The words almost sounded like a plea. Arthur's face was covered in cuts and bruises, and with my free hand I gently brushed away a piece of his hair before it stuck to a cut on his cheekbone and dried there. 

"Some– some water," he requested and Susan rose up, planting a hand on my shoulder. 

"I'll fetch some. You stay with him, honey," she offered, and I gave her a grateful nod and took the seat she patted as she left.

"Oh, lord, Arthur, what have they done to you?" I trembled, feeling a sob building in my throat and swallowing it back. 

"'s fine, jus' a scratch," he murmured and I shook my head at his attitude. 

"You ain't still bleeding," I noted, "can I look?" 

"I sorted it, stopped the bleeding. You can look."

"What did you do to it? I'm gonna move your union suit, this thing dries up it'll be hell to pull away," I warned him, unbuttoning the top buttons of the suit before carefully peeling the fabric away from his wound. Getting a better look at what he was dealing with, he needn't have answered my question since it was evident from what I saw. My mouth went dry. 

"Cauterised it myself, an' dug the bullet out," he confirmed. 

"Oh god, Arthur…"

"Was that or bleed out."

"You're one brave man," I told him, stroking his hair slowly. 

Miss Grimshaw returned then, a cup of water in one hand, a bucket of the stuff in the other, a bottle tucked under her arm. She handed me the cup of water and I reached for the back of Arthur's head, helping him lift up just enough for me to give him a drink. He sipped down enough to quench his thirst, then Susan was quick to replace the cup in my hand with a bottle of whiskey. I stared at it for a moment. 

"Mr. Morgan, I'm afraid we're gonna have to clean and stitch up that wound," she said grimly. Arthur made a small sound, a cross between a grunt and a sob.

"I know," he muttered through gritted teeth, an unhappy sense of understanding in his tone. Hosea approached carrying a small tin.

"Give him a generous glug of that whiskey, dear, he'll need it," he said, and I immediately unscrewed the cap and offered it to him. Arthur drank eagerly, wincing at the burn.

Dutch helped me to rearrange a few things around Arthur's wagon before they got on with it, allowing time for the whiskey to work on his system. We moved the crates by his bed back, giving us a little more room surrounding it, and Dutch retrieved some extra canvas to hang up around to create a closed off space to give the man some privacy. He didn't say a word to me outside of the occasional instruction, and when we were done he slipped inside the tent to join Hosea, letting the flap of canvas fall closed in front of me. I stood there for a moment, staring at the stained, old canvas blankly. 

I heard them talking inside, Hosea asking where I was. 

"She's outside," came Dutch's blunt response, followed by Arthur's woozy repetition of my name. "This ain't nothing for a lady to watch, Arthur, you're in quite a state," Dutch added. 

"Do you want her here, Arthur?" Hosea asked, regardless. There was a long pause. 

"No… best not," Arthur finally murmured. 

"Alright then, are you ready, my boy?"

"No, but just get it done," Arthur grunted back. I stepped away, backwards, keeping my eyes on the glowing canvas, light wavering from the lantern inside, shadows cast by Hosea and Dutch as they moved into position around him. 

After a few moments of quiet, I heard Arthur hiss with agony, grunting and letting loose tight, wavering breaths. I did the cowardly thing and sped away across the camp, getting far enough away so that I could only just hear him as they worked on him. I sat myself down on my bed roll, leaning up against the wagon behind it, bringing my knees up to my chest and folding my arms over my legs, nestling my head there in a bid to block out the noise. He wasn't hollering all that much, but the canvas didn't do much to stop the sounds he was making from meeting my ears. I felt terrible for blocking it out, but every moan made my stomach squeeze, mouth filling with spit like I was going to puke. There was nothing I could do for him, and he'd said himself he didn't want me around to see him like this. 

"Hey sweetie, how're you doin'?" Abigail's concerned voice pulled me from my cocoon and I lifted my head to look at her. 

"I'm fine, ain't me with a bullet hole in me," I told her.

"Yeah, but…" she trailed off, then sat down beside me. "Uh, just so you know, people are talkin'."

"Let them talk," I shrugged, shaking my head. 

"Thought you might say that, I know you've got more pressing matters on your mind. I just thought you deserved to know," she admitted, and touched my arm briefly. "I never confirmed it, told 'em all to mind their business."

"Thanks. It's my fault, I've hardly been subtle," I sighed, looking towards the fire where the gang members were all sat, "they either think I'm obsessed with him like some creep, or they clocked the truth."

"It's probably the latter, Miss Grimshaw shooed all the other girls off, 'sides you."

I didn't respond, looking down at the ground and chewing on the inside of my cheek.

"He's gonna be okay, you know," Abigail tried to reassure me. 

"I sincerely hope so," I breathed. 

"Keep your chin up, Arthur's tough."

"I just can't believe he had to drag himself back here like that… dig the bullet out and cauterise it on his own, escape from those people," I muttered, shaking my head. "I get that the situation was difficult, but it seemed like Dutch wasn't prepared to do anything."

"You don't think he'd've just left him, do you?" She asked, and I wasn't sure if she was being incredulous, or asking seriously. I shrugged my shoulders. 

"I have no idea. I kept thinking of recruiting some help and going out looking myself, maybe if I had– if I'd've gone yesterday, he might not–"

"Stop it, I know where you're going with this. Ain't nothing you could've done, and you know it," Abigail scolded. "I know you've got feelings for him and you're worried, but don't start saying what if. These things happen."

"I know," I said glumly. 

"He's going to be fine, just watch," she reiterated and I nodded in acceptance. She was probably right. Arthur was home, he was safe, we'd all take care of him until he was fully recovered. 

I looked over at Arthur's tent when movement caught my eye to see Hosea and Dutch emerge; they stood there for a moment, passing a few words before parting ways. Dutch went back to his own tent, closing the flaps up behind him and shutting himself off with Molly. Hosea washed his hands in a bucket of water outside Arthur's tent before glancing around, eyes finally settling on me from across the camp; he beckoned me over. 

"Excuse me," I said quietly, rising to my feet, "and thanks, Abigail, for the reassurance."

She nodded at me, and I quickly made my way across camp, meeting with Hosea. He was wiping his hands on his pants and offered me a warm smile when I reached him. 

"You can go in there, now, I stitched him up and dressed his wounds. He should be okay as long as he gets a lot of rest and he steers clear of any infection. Just have to keep him still for a few days, let the body heal."

"Thank you, Hosea."

"Don't thank me, I've spent the last ten minutes making the poor man weep like a baby," he chuckled weakly. 

"It had to be done," I reassured him, patting his shoulder. "I'm sure he'll thank you for it in the end."

"I'm sure," he breathed, shaking his head wistfully before gesturing to the tent. "Go on in, he's… he's drunk, but he's been asking for you."

I took a breath before entering the tent, closing it up behind me again and taking in the sight of him. His union suit was unbuttoned, the top half pulled down and off of his arms, making way for the bandage wrapped under his arm and over his shoulder. His face glistened with sweat, his hair still clinging to him, and he looked tired. So run down and beaten up, my heart gave a sad squeeze and I sat down on the chair next to his bed. He finally looked at me then, as if he'd only just noticed my presence. 

"Princess," he hummed, flipping his wrist over where it lay on the bed, clapping his fingers against his palm twice as a prompt for me to hold it. I gave his hand a careful squeeze, then leaned down to press a kiss to the ends of his fingers where they curled over the back of my hand.

"How're you feeling?" 

"Like shit," he said bluntly, huffing a laugh. "Little better now I got a pretty face watching over me."

"You saying Hosea ain't pretty?" I joked, and Arthur laughed half-heartedly, exhaustion creeping into it.

"Whiskey helped with the pain just a touch but now the damn world's spinning," he slurred, "even more than it was before."

"You ain't gonna puke, are you?"

"I hope not," he complained, forehead pinching. Concern crept into my expression and I felt it in the way my mouth turned down. 

"Tell me if you are, alright? I'll try and… get you on your side," I said, looking down at his dressed wound. 

"Oh, I'm fine. Ain't you got a sweet bedside manner? You sound all caring," he snickered with far less energy than he probably intended and I smiled bitter-sweetly.

"Of course I care, you fool. You had me worried sick. Literally; thought I was the one about to lose my lunch earlier on, seein' you all beat up."

"They make me look that ugly?"

"Stop it, ain't what I meant."

"I know, angel face. If I can't have a sense of humour on my deathbed…" he tapered off and I scoffed. 

"You ain't on your deathbed," I frowned and he blinked up at me, a lopsided smile on his face. 

"You're so easy," he commented and I rolled my eyes at him. I had to admit, his attempts at humour brought me some comfort; every moment I spent with him, I could feel myself beginning to relax.

"And you're so sweaty, you want me to mop your forehead, freshen you up?" 

"Sure, strip me down and gimme a sponge bath if you want, like one'a those bath girls," he chuckled. I cocked a brow as I picked up the bucket of clean water Susan had left, soaking the washcloth in it and wringing out the excess. 

"What bath girls? I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, you might have to elaborate," I said coyly. 

"Ahh, you know."

"I don't, never heard of such a thing."

I patted at his forehead with the cloth, wiping at the damp locks of hair there. I caught his eye and smirked, but he just stared at me, engrossed in something in my eyes. 

"God, you're a pretty girl. You know that?" He told me. 

"You're just gettin' out of telling me about these bath girls you been seeing," I mumbled, flushing. 

"I ain't seeing 'em. I only got eyes for you, princess."

I couldn't think of anything to say to that, so I changed the trajectory of our conversation. "You know, you really had me worried."

"You ain't gotta worry 'bout me."

"That's what people were telling me. I might've made a scene, think the cat's out'a the bag about us."

"Ahh, who cares?" He grunted, shrugging and then hissing. I gasped and caressed his arm, grimacing.

"Well, if you don't, I don't," I replied. 

"Can I get a kiss?" He requested and I felt good inside, hearing him say it. 

"Of course," I whispered, sitting up and leaning over him, connecting our lips in a kiss that was far lighter and gentler than usual. I didn't want to cause him any unnecessary pain, and his lip was a little swollen and busted. He hummed quietly, smiling up at me when I pulled back.

"Your kisses are the sweetest I've had," he murmured. 

"The very sweetest?"

"Mhm," he nodded, his eyes falling closed. I planted another kiss on his cheek before I carried on mopping his face, taking some fresh, cool water and lightly passing it over his cheeks, his nose, the cuts and bruises to take away any dried blood. All the while I was ever so gentle, passing the cloth over him as soft as the beat of a butterfly wing until his face was clean.

"Get some sleep," I whispered, leaning over him and stroking my hand through his hair over and over.

"Don't– don't go away jus' yet," he pleaded tiredly.

"I won't, I'll be right here till someone kicks me out," I assured him, keeping my gaze focused on his relaxed face, fingers still combing through his hair, lulling him to sleep.

[sugarcoated-pain]

Heavy Rotation Part 3

Hey guys! I know it’s been a minute since I posted a new part, but here it is! 

Part 1 

Part 2

Warnings: Mild drug and alcohol usage, cussing.. that’s about it. lol. 

Best Friends to Lovers- original character + Ashton

Huge shout out to @sublimehood​ for always making sure my shit doesn’t suck LOL

My first autumn in Los Angeles came and went. Seasons are weird here, since the weather barely changes. The air outside is getting slightly cooler, but nothing like back home, and I admittedly missed having a white Christmas. Though I could definitely get used to 60 degree Decembers.

Our whole group has been excited about the epic New Year's Eve party we plan to hold at our apartment. That afternoon, Ashton, Calum, Georgia and I make a supply run for the party. This proves to be quite an adventure in which we lose Cal for almost thirty minutes. After over an hour at the grocery store, we load Ash’s car full of booze, snacks and some other random shit nobody needs.

Within a few hours, our apartment is filled well past capacity mostly with people I have never seen before. Georgia and I had agreed that even though we were technically staying in for New Years Eve, we wanted to get all dressed up anyway. I can’t resist any excuse to wear sparkles, so I’m in a skin tight little black sequin dress, and I’m looking smoking hot if I do say so myself. My stupid brain can’t help but wonder what Ashton is going to think of my in this. As I wade through the waves of strangers, I get my answer. There is a split second when Ash first sees me that his eyes basically pop out of his head. I can’t help but smirk.

“Damn girl, look at you!” Georgia is standing and talking with Ash and Calum.

“NO, look at YOU!” I reply, grabbing her hand and leading her into spin to show off the sexy little green number she is wearing. I notice Ashton is still staring so I decide to bring this back to reality. “Hey Ash, where’s Camille tonight?”

His eyes focus on my face now. “Out of town for work.”

“Aw, bummer.” I say, trying with everything I have to hide my sarcasm. Georgia and I exchange a quick look. The party is a huge hit. There’s a million people here and everyone is having a blast. At some point, we decide to set up beer pong downstairs in the warehouse space where the band practices. Ash and I are on a team and we completely annihilate EVERYONE. We are seriously unstoppable. After eleven matches of no one being able to beat us, we run out of people willing to go up against us and decide to head back upstairs.

Ashton and I have spent the whole night side by side. It’s really nice, actually, without having his girlfriend hovering around making sure I don’t get too close to him. Aside from kicking ass at beer pong, we’ve just been talking about anything and everything. We could talk for hours, and we do. A little voice in the back of my mind is throwing up all the warning signs that I have entered dangerous territory, but I ignore it.  

We are standing in the kitchen getting more drinks when Georgia walks over with a mildly concerned yet amused look on her face.“Hey guys… do either of you have any idea how a live penguin got in the hall bathroom?!”

Ashton happened to be taking a sip of beer at that exact moment, and spews it everywhere.

“Personally, I’m not even surprised. And I’m definitely about to go take a selfie with it. But no, I have no idea where it came from.” I reply, grabbing Ashton by the arm and dragging him to the bathroom to meet our new friend. We both agree that this little guy is too cool (haha get it?) to get rid of and accept him as a welcome guest of the party, and also, someone else’s problem.

After the penguin excitement wears off, we head back to the living room. Someone has turned the TV on and apparently the countdown to midnight has now begun. Ashton and I grab the silly string, noise makers and confetti poppers we bought at the store earlier in the day and start handing them out. We all chant the final ten seconds to midnight along with the TV. As soon as we get to one, everyone goes crazy. Ash and I attack each other with silly string as noise makers and confetti are all set off around us. It’s the perfect moment, until an awkward silence takes over the room. Most of the group has coupled off and are all sharing their perfect midnight New Year’s kiss. I shift awkwardly for a second, and glance up at Ashton. He’s noticed it too and looks almost as awkward as I feel.

I decide to break the awkwardness between us by shooting him right in the face with silly string. Instinctively, I dodge through the kissing couples near as to run away from him as quickly as possible before he can retaliate. He laughs and immediately chases after me, which doesn’t really work in my favor because he’s a lot faster than I am  and catches up to me almost immediately.  Grabbing me by the waist and holding me within shooting distance with one hand, he uses the other to silly string me to death. It's no more than I deserve. Georgia and Calum have finally stopped making out and she catches my eye from across the room and raises an eyebrow, apparently noticing our little flirting session.

The rest of the night goes by pretty quickly. Around 1 a.m., people start to slowly trickle out, but I’m too busy sitting on the couch talking to Ashton to care about anybody else. The penguin has mysteriously disappeared and I can only hope he was safely back where he belongs, though it’s more likely that he is wandering around the building.

As per the usual, Ashton and I are the last ones standing at the end of the night. Adrenaline still pumping from the excitement of the party, neither one of us is ready for bed. We decide to do a favor for our future selves and start picking up the mess. Though it only lasts maybe ten minutes.

“I’m bored… wanna finish the rest of this tomorrow and go get high on the roof?” I ask him with a smirk.

“Why yes, yes I do.” Ash replies, dropping the trash bag in his hands to the floor.

The night air feels amazing on my skin after being inside all night. Ash and I share a joint and laugh about various situations that occurred throughout the evening. I realize that without even meaning to, I’m sitting with my leg touching his again, but he hasn’t moved away. It’s probably the weed but small details start to stand out in my mind. His hair moving in the breeze. His gorgeous eyes shining in the moonlight. The way his whole face lights up when he smiles, dimples and all. He seems to notice me watching him eventually, but instead of saying anything, he just watches me right back, a small grin on his face.

The moment was too perfect. It was too much to take. I lean in quickly and press my lips firmly against his. He seems stunned for a split second, but then next thing I know, one of his hands is on my cheek, the other on my lower back pulling me closer to him. Everything about this kiss is perfection. The way his lips fit against mine, the way they move together in sync, the gentle pressure of his hand on my face. This is the way people were meant to be kissed. This is what kissing should be like every single time.

“Shit.” The word falls out of my mouth as my brain catches up to the rest of me and I pull away from him. Without hesitating, he leans in again for more. I stop him, “Ash,” I start breathlessly, staring at him, our faces just inches apart. “You have a girlfriend.” He opens those flawless hazel eyes, locking them with mine, then sighs and turns his head away from me slowly.

“I’m SO sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m drunk and a little high. That was so stupid of me. “ I stammer, flustered. He is uncharacteristically quiet for several moments as he stares straight ahead at the glittering city skyline. “Ashton, say something..”

“It was just because you were drunk and high, huh?” He says, almost in a whisper. The tone in his voice surprises me- he sounds.. Hurt?

“Ash, you have a girlfriend and we are roommates and you’re my best friend. I absolutely should not have done that. It was a huge mistake.”

“Sure. okay. A mistake. Right.” He almost sounds sarcastic.

I sigh, “I uh.. I should go to bed now…. Shit.. I really am sorry.” I add as I quickly make my way back down the fire escape.

Back in my bedroom, I  close my bedroom window, slam my body face first onto my bed and scream into my pillow. Once that is out of my system, I pull out my phone to text Georgia.

If you’re awake and not having sex, come to my room NOW. please.

After about three minutes, I hear a soft knock at my door. I open it to find Georgia there, and swiftly pull her inside, shutting the door hard behind her.

“G. I fucked up.” I say quickly, making my way back to my bed.

“Why? What happened?!” She asks, sitting down next to me.

“I… I just kissed Ashton.” It comes out as a panicked whisper.

“YOU WHAT?!”

“SHHHHHHHH”

“Are you kidding me?” She asks, a look of shock on her face.

“Nope. Definitely not kidding... I told him that it was just because I was drunk and it was a total mistake.” I squeeze my pillow and sigh into it heavily.

“Well that’s pretty stupid of you considering that it wasn’t the alcohol’s fault at all and this would have been the perfect opportunity to be honest with him about how you feel.”

“Georgia, HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND! And he’s my roommate and my best friend. It would make things way too weird. And you know I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“Oh so I guess you’re still working on convincing yourself of that lie too, huh? Does that mean you haven’t admitted to yourself yet that you don’t just have a crush on Ashton, that you’re actually madly fucking in love with him?”

“I AM NOT.” I snap defensively.

Georgia sighs. “Okay. whatever you say. But I just have one question for you.. How was it?”

I let out a deep breath and glare at her for a second before giving in. “Literally the best kiss of my entire life. It was like something out of a fucking movie. You know how people always talk about seeing fireworks and hearing angels sing and all that bullshit? Yeah, that all happened.” I let out another sigh and bury my face in my pillow again. I feel Georgia’s hand on my back sympathetically. “UGH what have I done?” I groan.

Georgia consoles me a little while longer before eventually heading back to Cal’s room for bed. I lay awake for a long time, going over the night’s events repeatedly in my head. Eventually, I drift off to sleep with the last thing I see in my mind being Ashton’s lips.

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Taglist: @cheyenne-in-wonderland @drummerboy794

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the list! 

[nottswitch]

Love Letters

I don’t really know if this has been done before but I this idea has been sitting in my head for quite a while now. I hope you will like it :)

Word count: 2,080

(yep, adding a word count from now on, thought it might be useful for someone)

“Oh my god, Y/N, is it yours?”

An excited voice of someone who your sleepy mind identified as Lily Evans reached your ears.

“How the hell did it get here?”

Another voice of no one but Marlene.

“And most importantly — what’s inside?”

It was Mary as far as you could understand. All three girls you shared the dorm with gathered near your bed and were discussing something that apparently didn’t belong here, in girls’ room, and was apparently yours.

You pushed the bed canopy aside and sat up, rubbing your eyes.

“What’s going on?” you mumbled hardly understandable, loudly yawning.

Three heads turned to you at the same time.

“Morning,” girls said to you synchronously.

“Yeah, morning,” you muttered, reluctantly getting out of the bed and coming up to them. “Isn’t it Sunday?”

“It is,” answered Marlene, staring at you.

“Why are you awake so early then?” you asked, frowning and looking from one face to another. “And why are you all gawping at me?”

Instead of replying girls gestured at something. You came closer to have a better look at what they pointed at and let out a surprised gasp. A white envelope was floating in the air, emitting small pink hearts around itself.

“What the hell?”

“Asking the same question,” said Lily, raising her eyebrow. “Seems like you have an admirer, huh?” she mockingly winked at you, in response to which you rolled your eyes.

When you took the envelope in your hand, you felt a light scent of caramel and mint. Someone who sent this must have learned everything about you, including your favourite smells.

“So… Open it?” suggested Marlene, who was burning with impatience by that moment.

The four of you bent over, head to head, as you carefully, not to damage what’s inside, ripped the edge of the envelope off. You noticed a corner of a paper sticking out and pulled it out, revealing sparkly golden letters.

“Someone made efforts…” mumbled Lily, looking at the gorgeous handwriting you’ve never seen before in amusement.

When you took a closer look at what was written, a gasp escaped your lips. You turned away from the girls and rushed to the window to see it clearer and make sure you saw what you saw. Yes, no doubts.

Your smile is beautiful. You should wear it more.

A little heart was drawn below.

“What? What’s there?”

You heard girls’ voices behind you but weren’t hurrying to satisfy their wish of seeing the letter. Instead you merely stared at it with a silly smile on your face. At this point you didn’t really care about who sent it and how they did it. Whoever it was, these words were the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard in your direction.

“Come on! Show us!”

Even Mary, usually calm, was willing to see it with burning passion. You gave up, turning the paper for the girls to see.

“Oh my!”

“How sweet!”

“Awww!”

Three voices sounded in sync and you chuckled, fiercely blushing when they almost tore the poor thing from your hands and stared at it, then looked up at you and at it again.

“Okay, now give it to me,” you said after some good minutes. Reluctantly girls returned it, amusement still in their eyes.

You carefully folded the piece of paper just as it initially was, put it back in the envelope and in your bedside drawer. Now you wished with your whole heart to find out who did such an amazing surprise for you.

When you woke up the next morning, you had to admit — you were a little bit disappointed not to find a letter again. You sadly looked at the area it was floating in yesterday and, heaving a sigh, headed to take a shower. But as you opened the door of the bathroom, a scent of caramel and mint reached your nose.

Near the mirror that same white envelope, emitting small pink hearts around, was floating.

“Are you for real?” Lily asked you when you came back to the room. Everyone was awake by then and gathered around you to have a look at a wondrous paper again.

“I mean, if it wasn’t real…” you muttered, ripping the edge.

Your laugh is the best sound in the world. Being the one to cause it is an honour.

And another little heart.

You couldn’t help but giggled, your cheeks instantly turning bright red.

“Well, I can argue with that,” Marlene said but you hardly paid any attention.

Who is this person who makes you laugh, you thought, biting your lower lip. There are plenty of people who made you laugh for the past years of studying at Hogwarts… No, this hint didn’t help at all.

The same question was asked by Mary while you were making your way down to the common room.

“I wish I knew…” you said in frustration, looking around and meanwhile searching for anyone who might have been a potential sender. The whole Marauders crew were the only people you noticed. While following Lily, who, of course, immediately ran to embrace her dear James, you attentively checked others’ faces.

Was it Peter? No, not at all, you brushed this thought straight away. He was a nice friend, a good listener who was always ready to provide a shoulder to cry on, but… No, as much as you liked him, you didn’t think he could come up with an idea like this.

You looked at Remus, sitting next to Peter. Was it him? You slightly frowned, sitting down at a couch along with the others. No. No, not Remus. You’ve never thought of him as a kind of a person to send such elaborate and romantic letters. It wasn’t his type of communication. In your opinion, if he was to confess his feelings, he would say it directly to that someone of his choice.

The last boy to be a potential suspect was Sirius. When you came up a minute ago, he eagerly said hi and offered you to take a seat near him. Could it be him?

Oh, you wished it was him…

During your last year you would laugh in the face of the one who said you’d have a crush on Sirius Black. No though all that was left was to laugh in the mirror. You were in love with one of your friends, if not best then close for sure, and there was no way of going back. So yeah, you wished it was him sending two letters in a row already.

While everyone was chatting, you sat silently, trying to think rationally. Sending love letters was in Sirius’ style, no denial to that. He was a kind of guy to play around. Sirius could’ve easily come up with something like that as well — indeed he was very creative, floating hearts, sparkly writing… He knew you pretty well too which explained your favourite scents. But how unfortunate that they were all your fantasies…

“Have I mentioned that our girl Y/N has a secret admirer?”

Lily’s voice got you back to reality. You shivered under six looks thrown at you right after her words.

“What?” you asked, shrugging.

“An admirer?” James mocked you, winking. At the back of your head you chuckled, thinking “Oh, that’s where Lily’s habit came from”.

“And a super romantic one,” Marlene continued, playfully raising her eyebrow. “If you could see what he sent her… Show it, will you?” she said to you.

You hesitated for a second but opened your school bag anyway, where you put the letter to keep. It won’t hurt if the boys will see.

“I wonder who’s this genius now!” exclaimed James when everyone had a look. “I mean, these hearts… I wish I knew how to make them!” For some reason he sounded rather sarcastic, you weren’t sure if anyone caught this tone in his voice as well.

“Yeah, never heard of such a spell,” added Remus, grinning all of a sudden. When you looked at Peter, he was barely holding himself from laughing.

“What’s so funny?” you wondered, puzzled.

“No, it’s… nothing,” James mumbled under his breath, bursting out laughing. “This thing is great, isn’t it, Sirius?”

It was the first time when you Sirius wasn’t the one to be dying from laughter. On the contrary, he was hiding his face and barely a smile hit corners of his lips.

Apparently Remus noticed a weird look you gave Sirius because he tried to explain his behavior.

“He’s just jealous it’s not him who made this masterpiece,” he pretended to whisper as if he was telling you a big secret.

You heart skipped a beat. So it wasn’t him. A sad expression was set on your face for the rest of your day.

“Will it be better as "your walk reminds me of a swan swimming along the river” or “of a doe running along the prairie”?“

"Honestly, Pads, where do you find these?”

“Here,” Sirius tapped his finger against his forehead. “A swan or a doe?”

“Mm… A swan,” James answered, pretending to thoughtfully frown. “This one’s too cheesy though.”

“D'you reckon?” Sirius hesitantly asked, putting his wand down. “I have to compliment her walk anyway.”

“You can still do that without animal references,” Remus noted, turning his head to Sirius, who was sitting at the table, bending above a piece of paper.

“Out of ideas then,” he answered, leaning on the back of his chair and closing his eyes. “It’s not that easy, Moony! Don’t laugh!”

“Alright, alright, chill.” Remus raised his hands in defense and returned to the book he was reading.

“What should I do?” Sirius mumbled in the air.

“Um, everything except waking us up at three in the morning.” James made a prayerful gesture.

“When did he do this?” Peter got into the conversation, raising his eyebrow. “I never woke up.”

“No surprise, you snore like a dragon,” James mocked him.

“Oh, shut up! Dragons don’t snore, for your knowledge.”

“When did you become a Remus?”

“Stop!” Sirius exclaimed, raising his hand. “I think I have an idea.”

“Listen, genius has an idea!”

“James!”

“Yeah, guys, stop, I’d like to hear his idea as well.”

At the sound of your voice everyone jerked and synchronously turned their heads to the door.

“Oops…” James chuckled and covered his mouth. “Seems like we have an unexpectable guest…”

You merely heard what he said, staring at Sirius only. He sat at the same place, at the table, open-mouthed, his face red as a Gryffindor flag on the wall behind him.

“I guess we should leave,” Remus whispered and all three boys silently walked up to their dorm, glancing at you two from time to time until disappearing from your sight.

You walked forward, smiling and settling yourself on a comfortable couch and flapping your hand next to you, inviting Sirius to take a seat. He got up, still shocked and very confused. You couldn’t help but smiled at his blush. Never had you ever seen him this shy and, to be honest, it made him just adorable.

“How much you heard?” he asked, sitting near you.

“Pretty much everything,” you calmly answered, your smile getting bigger and bigger. It seemed to reassure Sirius a bit because his eyes instantly sparkled.

“And? What do you think?” he wondered with obvious interest.

“Of what exactly?”

“A swan or a doe?”

You raised your eyebrows, not getting where he was going at first, but when you did, you bursted out laughing. He did the same and if anyone walked in at that moment, they’d be surprised.

“I’m more into swans,” you answered, your cheeks hurting from grinning too much.

“Taking into account.”

“You don’t really need to write me letter anymore though, don’t you?”

To be honest, you would still like to receive them. You got only two but they made you extremely happy nevertheless.

“I can compliment you directly now, I assume.” Sirius moved closer, looking in your eyes with slight worry in his.

“Not that you couldn’t before,” you said, which caused him making a short laugh. “But letters are romantic as hell.”

“So you won’t mind another one of those? Another…”

“And another and another,” you finished his sentence. “I wouldn’t mind, like, at all. You have my bet.”

You both laughed again. And you weren’t surprised when tomorrow a white envelope, emitting pink hearts and a scent of caramel and mint, was floating above your bedside drawer.

Tag List: @padfootagain @giggleberts @starless-skyox @spontaniouslysomething

[crimsong-knight]

✶「The Knight who sings a Crimson Song | Tomokazu」♪

✶「Basic Information」♪

Name: Shibuya Tomokazu.

Name (Kanji): 士武屋 友和 「しぶや ともかず」

Birthday: July 7th, 1992.

Age: 25.

Star sygn: Cancer. 

Height: 182 cm   |   5′ 11.7′’

Weight: 64 kg   |   141 lb

Family members: Shibuya Kazuhiko (Father, 51, Businessman), Shibuya Chie, neé Kamenashi (Mother, 47, Music Teacher), Kamenashi Nokoru (Grandfather, 78, farmer).

✶「Personality Traits」♪

Personality: A cheerful, arrogant and hardworking idol, Tomokazu Shibuya may not seem like he’s a disciplined and responsible person, but in fact, he always has a plan for most of the things he does, at least, work related. He follows his agenda to the letter, and he manages to do all his activities just in time. His strong sense of duty can be a problem for him, because when he has much work to be done, he doesn’t eat nor rest properly, which causes him to collapse when he’s heavily tired. For the rest of things, he’s spontaneous and relaxed, leaving almost everything to the odds. 

He’s usually seen with a confident smile in his face and he’s never afraid to speak his mind. When he sees something he doesn’t like he’ll be willing to complain about it and when he sees something he likes, he supports it so everyone knows his position. Yet, when it comes to liking someone, this could change drastically, as he’s thoughtful, insecure and painfully afraid of rejection. He loves to be there for his friends and to cheer them up, even if he has to do foolish acts to make them smile, because he hates seeing people upset or sad, and because he wants to feel useful to everyone. He could say lots of silly jokes to no end at the moment, if the situation lets him doing it. 

However, when there are important things to do or advice to give to a friend in problems, he gets serious and gives a mature vibe when he speaks. It isn’t easy to truly upset him, however he can be a Drama King over little things. Tomokazu is a strongly emotional individual, but when people insults him, he lets it slip at the moment, altough he’ll be thinking about it for hours when he’s alone. On the other hand, when you badmouth his friends, he can get horribly enraged and he will defend them with everything he got. When he is really angry, he’s scary and harsh, to such an extent he will speak with a foul mouth, insulting and saying bad words he wouldn’t normally use.

His cheerful facade which he shows to hs fans, or his “Idol self” isn’t much different from his true personality. Nonetheless, his strong will, his self-confidence and his arrogance are part of the traits he only projects. In reality he has low self-esteem, always looking for recognition, love and acceptation. He’s constantly facing depression, worrying if he’s good enough to be in the media, if he’s talented enough to stay there, if he’s likable enough for his friends to stay with him, working himself to exhaustion to demonstrate everyone why he has a legit place in the highest orbs of the idol insdustry. This part of his personality isn’t often shown when there’s people aroundh him, he saves it for when he’s alone.

The majority of the time, when he’s free, he’s chill and just wants to have fun. Kazu loves his job and is proud of what he is now and how far he got with all his hard work and his talent.

Myers Briggs: ESFP with some ESFJ tendencys.

Strenghts: 

Observant: He’s prone to naturally notice changes in people and situations, even if they’re subtle.

Utterly Social: Tomokazu enjoys being with his friends and fans, and he loves both being the center of attention and to play attention to others.

Fast learner: He can learn lots of things by himself if he’s commited enough. Applies for everything except cooking (It will take him twice or three times more effort to learn it properly, due to some past issues).

Empathic: He’s very sensitive to other’s emotions, which is a double edged sword.

Independent: Except for cooking, he does all his activities on his own and usually doesn’t ask for help when he doesn’t know anything. He learns about it on his own.

Weaknesses:

Manipulative: To a certain extent and according the circumstances. He’ll try to always get away with it, trying not harm anyone in the process.

Dramatic: His first weakness can be related to this one. His best way to manipulate people is being a Drama King, but sometimes he just seems to be accustomed to make a storm in a teacup.

Often too needy: His seek for recognition can be translated in start searching excuses for people to praise him, so he’ll feel reassured for how much he’s valued. 

Depressive: He’s constantly reflecting on all the negative things someone said about him, or which he noticed on his own. Even so, he hadn’t reached a point of no return, because he considers himself a coward.

Insecure: He fears to be rejected, forgotten or replaced, but he doesn’t voice it up, he just leaves the apprehension crept silently through his heart.

Hobbies and interests:

Plastic arts: He can draw almost everything, from realistic art to manga style.

Read manga, watch anime and play videogames: He’s a holy trinity otaku type (?).

Food: He loves to go to new restaurants and pastry shops to try new kinds of food.

Working out: So he can maintain his weight and gain more stamina for his live shows.

Fashion: He’s informed about all the fashion trends at the moment, but his fashion style is a mix between trendy, casual and comfy.

Fun facts:

His friends nickname him “Kazu” [To difference him from the “Tomo” in Tomochika]. Haruka calls him “Kazu-kun”.

He doesn’t like to be called “prince”. He thinks “knight” suits him better and his whole idol image is about him protecting “The queen of his heart”.

His fans are called “Gemstones” or “Jewels”, it depends on his mood.

He loves chocolate and strawberries, both if they’re combined in a dessert such as ice cream. That’s why he has a rough workout routine to not gain weight.

He’s well informed about everything, because he always reads the news or searches information to know something before any of his friends.

His hair is wavy in the morning, but he uses conditioner and gets hair treatments to have it more or less straight. Moisture is his worst nightmare because his hair gets frizzy and he hates it. [It doesn’t look too different but he’s a perfectionist]

He’s a smooth talker and loves to fluster people.

He considers that Haruka making him a composition would be the best thing to happen him, in his career and in his life.

He’s really fashionable and models for a brand specialist in sportswear.

He has awful cooking skills because his mother didn’t let him enter in the kitchen when he was a child, due to an accident which had happened before. 

✶「Idol Information」♪

Seiyuu (Voice Actor): Fukuyama Jun.

Color: Crimson.

Catchprhase: "I’ll treasure you forever, my precious gemstones~”

Musical instrument: Electone. He won various contests when he was younger, including three Yamaha Music Fests. He also plays the guitar but not as well as Otoya does.

Music Genre: Usually J-rock and J-pop (In various subgenres). He can switch to ballads from time to time.

Best skill: His wide voice range, which allows him to sing in a variated set of voices, as well as numerous voice tones. In the future, this skill will be useful for his new job when he retires from being a full time idol: being a voice actor.

Second skill: Acting, but he models more frequently because he wants to improve his modeling skills.

Debut date: April 26th, 2008. (Two years prior Starish Debut)

✶「Backstory」♪

The only son of the Shibuya family. Tomokazu grown up with the pressure to exceed all the expectations of his parents. They both are (relatively) lovely people and supported Kazu since he was a child, yet, they were equally demanding in regards of his scores at school and winning contests in topics in which he was talented. In fact, he had a gift for music from an early age, so they were specially strict with him on these.

When he succeded, they showed him all their love and adoration, but everytime he failed, they rejected him and pushed him harder to achieve just the best places in anything he would be doing at the time. Due to this, Tomokazu developed a very low self-esteem, always searching for nice words to be said to him, that way he felt useful and loved because of them. He was sternly criticized by his dad everytime he couldn’t cope with what was expected from him, and his mother, softer than his dad, tried to make him “understand” they were acting as harsh as that for his own sake. This environment made him sick with nervousness every time he felt like he wouldn’t win a prize, be at the top tier in his school or even win a video game.

Because of this, his grandpa offered taking Kazu with him during his summer vacations, so the child could relax from all the burden put into his tiny shoulders. This was the escape Tomokazu needed, and his time in the countryside, picking up tomatoes and fruits with his grandpa, as well as taking care of the animals with him was the best time of his life. 

Here, he knew Haruka and befriended her, meeting the girl every summer and eventually developing a crush on her. However, when he had 11 years old, an accident in which the girl nearly drowned in a river because he insisted to play in there threw away all the relax he could experiment in his life. He did all he could to save his best friend and to take her safely home. Haruka’s grandma received the wet and terrified boy carrying her granddaughter in his back. She helped to save the girl and she also tried to reassure the redhead boy which couldn’t stop trembling and crying at the sole thought of losing his dearest friend. Haruka’s grandma didn’t blame him for what happened, but he couldn’t help feeling guilty and depressed about it.

Kazu’s grandfather offered an apology to the Nanamis, helping them as much as he could, but when Haruka finally awoke, she couldn’t remember much about Tomokazu, just vague memories which seemed to keep fading along other memories she had. That was the trigger which made Kazu take a decision. He begged his grandpa to not say anything about this to his parents (he wasn’t planning to do it, anyways, because he was truly supportive to his grandson), and he promised keep going to visit him every summer, yet he would avoid meeting with Haruka so she wouldn’t got hurt trying to figure where did she met him. Kazu was still happy visiting his grandpa, but he often showed a pained expression everytime he passed the places in which he used to play with his best friend, including her home. Until this day, he still has kept this promise and goes to visit his grandpa, even if his packed schedules just let him stay for fewer days than before.

His parents noticed something had changed in him, but only his mother started to pay more attention to his feelings than her own expectations, yet it was too late: Tomokazu was more mentally damaged than she could imagine. Kazu put all his efforts in music, the only activity he enjoyed despite their parents pressure. That alongside his mother’s support in choose a career which would make him happy in the future led him to go to Saotome Academy, and, until now he’s happy with that decision. He was sorted to the A Class, much to his parents displeasure (they wanted their son to attend S Class, but they didn’t tell him anything, maybe Kazu’s mom had something to do here), but he proved himself to be a promising idol and debuted with his composer partner a year after he started studying there, with just 15 years old.

As a solo idol, Tomokazu struggled during his first months in the media, trying to gain himself a place and a name, working hard so he could achieve only the best places, as his parents always encouraged him to. Of all his songs, the one which made him jump to stardom was REGENERATION, which won various awards that year. Since that day, his fame just kept rising and rising, being known as the Tomokazu Shibuya, TheJewel Crimson Knight. Anyways, he often felt lonely because he hadn’t bandmates, which led him to escape from time to time to Saotome Gakuen to be among the students and remember the old times. That way he met Haruka again, who (not so surprisingly) didn’t remember him at all, and the future Starish members, being more closer to Otoya and Ren. He witnessed from the distance how the group was starting to form, Haruka being the glue who tied them all. Tomokazu felt jealous of them, but he knew they could do it well if they maintained their harmony.

Slowly Tomokazu managed to keep his depresion at bay, do all his activities and hang out with his friends. He ended truly befriending the majority of the Starish boys and trying to be there for them in critical moments, such as preparing themselves to win the Utapri Award and assisting their fight for the SSS. 

✶「The future」♪

He’s planning to retire when he’s 32 or so, and he’s doing seiyuu works little by little. He wants to be a voice actor when he retires from being an idol so he can explore a more mature way to be in the media. That’s also his plan so he can settle down and start a family with the person he loves.

[lexulloa]

Misjudged

I recently had my heart broken. “By a woman?” you may ask. No, by me. You see, I put myself in a place of absolute vulnerability, with no agenda and told her how much love and respect I had for her. I found her to be so inspiring and admirable for the decent human being that she is, that well, I even told her parents. In my silly little mind, I thought to myself: “What parent wouldn’t want to hear that their daughter has had a positive impact on someone else?... What person doesn’t want to hear that they are loved or admired?” During the past few months I had been dealing with anxiety. I was “shittin’ my pants” when I told the parents. I knew that my anxiety had to do a lot with the fact that I wasn’t going to see them as frequently as I did these past few years. Their expression of love towards me and for them to consider me “family” brought me even closer to them. I honestly began to see them as not only good friends but parental figures as well. They are one of the most loving and thoughtful people and their kind gestures moved me in ways only one could only imagine... the thing is, I didn’t have to imagine it because it happened! They had extended invitations to their home in California, which was so kind of them. But when I began to develop feelings for their daughter (which I tried to ignore and suppress many times), I didn’t feel comfortable with taking them up on their offer as I felt it wasn’t appropriate. Honestly, this is the best way I can explain this feeling, but what it boils down is that I just didn’t feel right about it.  When I told them, I was ready to welcome any reaction. I prayed that they would respond positively and they did. The mom was shocked and gave me a hug and the dad (who could easily crush me by slightly lifting up his foot - the dude is tall!) gave me a hug as well when I initially stretched my hand to shake his. Now, and because I’ve been living in a way where I keep my expectations low I thought that I had one in a million shot (even no shot) to have my feelings reciprocated by this woman, especially when I told her. And I was right. She told me she wasn’t interested. As simple and straight forward as that. I appreciated it too because it was her honest answer. And if anything, I always remind myself (and others) to embrace honesty in all its forms. But what took me off kilter was the fact that she told me to stop contacting her and not to speak to her again and then took some actions that I found unwarranted. Was I disappointed? Yup! Did my anxiety levels multiply by 100? It sure felt that way! Was I hurt? Without a doubt! I do recognize however that she did not take any action by being malicious. In fact, what caught my attention (one of many great attributes she has) was her kind heart. Did she act out of fear, confusion, insecurity, anger or maybe a combination of these? I can only speculate. I’m not going to go into what she did, because honestly I don’t know the full details, but I surely received the end result and the blow knocked me to my core and luckily (and I thank God for this), my best friend was there for me as a best friend could ever be. Regardless of the aftermath, I still think highly of her and hold her in high esteem.

Here’s the thing: when it comes to people in general, I always make strides to show interest in them. This is important to me because I think, that when someone is talking to you, you treat them in that moment as thought they are the most important person in the world. For me, they are! Anyone really. When it came to her, I always demonstrated interest in her well-being with respect and love always at the forefront. I, however, also limited my communications with her though, and I did so to avoid having our friendship (which I thought we had) take an awkward turn. I’ve had people interested in me, and trust me, I am as shocked as you are right now by learning this, but it’s true! 😂There were a few people that I wasn’t interested in pursuing a romantic relationship but because I didn’t feel the same way and to lead them to believe otherwise after they told me they had developed feelings for me would not only be dishonest, but hurtful and ultimately could destroy the friendship bonds that we had established. So I tell them how I honestly feel, with the love and respect I always had for them. One of the nicest things about this approach is that one day my friend Erica and I ran into each other about 5 years after she expressed her interest in me. Once we saw each other, we hugged like we were the best of friends, as I always found us to be. No feelings hurt and as far as I’m concerned, the love and respect we always had for each other still remains intact. I feel that generally speaking, I’m a confident person, but when my interest in a woman goes beyond that general interest in people, I am reminded of “Andy Stitzer” from “40 Year Old Virgen” who at one point in the film says “I respect women, I love women. I respect them so much I completely stay away from them!”, because I’m a nerd that way. Not out of fear of rejection but because (generally speaking) I’ve found that some people (women, in my case) don’t feel comfortable or don’t know how to handle a situation when I express how I  feel for them and the “natural” reaction is to freak out or halt the situation abruptly as though they had just been insulted or disrespected. But anyway, I verbally told her how I felt. Initially I got a “thanks” in a way that made me think she took it like a friend expressing his “friendly feelings” to another friend. And that was fine. Then I wrote a letter to her making it clear how I felt. I took into consideration that even if she was dating someone, that I hoped that they treated her with the respect and love that she deservers. In reality, for the past 3 years that I’ve known her, no hint of a relationship was ever noticed, but I wanted to express to her that even if she didn’t feel the same way I did for her that I still had respect, admiration and love for her.  BUT SHIT HIT THE FAN! The following is where the hurt began to increase as well as my anxiety: people who’d never followed me on social media that had some link to her began to check out my “InstaStories”. People I don’t know personally. I felt that I was being watched and judged as though they were trying to find any excuse that would confirm any wrongful or misguided assumption they had of me. It sucks, it really really sucks to hear now a days people saying “speak your truth”, and when I thought I was doing the right thing, thinking that someone may at the very least feel appreciated and maybe even perhaps flattered even though they may have not felt the same way, ultimately I was judged. I hate to think that this is the risk you run into when you “speak your truth” and it shouldn’t have to be that way. It sucks to be judged but it even sucks more to be misjudged and have people act upon their askew perceptions of you. Even though at this moment (as I’m writing these words) I’m still going through the healing process, I’ve moved on. I have to! In fact, I hope to whomever is reading this, if you find yourself in a similar situation, you will be able to overcome it simply because the person who you love the most in this world is yourself. I love who I am. I’ve made many (countless!) mistakes in my life. I’ve hurt people, disrespected them... I was a jerk! But I’ve worked hard to make myself better over the years. I know where I stand and I know how I operate now a days. People will judge you all they want, but at the end of the day if you do good by all, you’ll be able to rest easy. Other than for the fact that I suffer from sleep apnea, I sleep well. So love yourself at 100%, and if you don’t, then I suggest you work on yourself until you do. I don’t take “rejection” as a bad thing either, in fact quite the opposite. I don’t “love to be rejected” necessarily, but the freedom to move on from the potential person is granted in that precise moment they express disinterest, and because you love yourself at 100%, there is no emotional dependency whatsoever (which is cancerous if this becomes a foundation of any relationship). I feel that any relationship, whether they be a romantic one or a simple friendship, should only compliment to what you are willing to bring to the table. When there is rejection, there may be disappointment, sure, but it’s short-lived. Being single is not a punishment either. Work on yourself and your self-love. Someone, one day, will acknowledge you and you will acknowledge them and perhaps start something amazing. In the end, you will find that the wait will be all well worth it. Stay positive... ALWAYS!

[yeolsmuffin]

Rewriting the Past

Pairing: ReaderxBaekhyun

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Baekhyun was your first love when you were sixteen. It was passionate, hot, and messy. But all of that ended six years ago, after a four-year battle for your relationship. Now, you’re twenty-six years old and still reeling from the relationship when suddenly, Baekhyun shows up on your doorstep.

One | Two |

Another lonely night. You sighed to yourself as you grabbed a bottle of wine from the kitchen, flicked on the TV, and kicked off your boots.

Work had been especially exhausting today and you wanted to drown your sorrows in the bottle of cheap red wine – or well, you wanted to drown the fact that your boss made several attempts at you to the point where you were close to losing your job. He was a pig, and couldn’t keep his hands off your thighs, but you tried to keep your mouth shut because you needed to pay your mortgage. With the personality, you had developed in the years of working journalism, you wanted to tell him off. But you couldn’t.

It was only four pm, but you didn’t care as you uncorked the wine and drunk straight from the bottle. The wine tasted bad, but what tasted worse was the agonizing past six years of your life. More so, the drama you just dealt with.

Six months ago, you had a bad breakup. A man you were with for two years. A man that you thought you loved – although thinking back, you should have known better. You knew what love felt like because you had once had the most passionate and heart-stopping love when you were a teenager. This man didn’t make your heart stop and he didn’t make you feel passion. But you were with him and you were infatuated. So much where you had quickly gotten married a year in and tried to get pregnant. At the age of twenty-five, you thought it was about time to have children. You had a husband, a good job, and a supportive family – there was nothing stopping you.

Okay, well there was one thing. That love from six years ago? The love that lasted four long years from age sixteen to twenty? The love still haunted you. There were still some nights that you cried in private. Not that you told anyone. Not even your best friend, Jae.

Apparently, that wasn’t going to be the only thing stopping you. After six months of negative pregnancy tests, you went to the clinic and discovered you had endometriosis – and you may never have children. Your husband at the time was furious, so you were willing to undergo the fertility treatments which caused immense pain and made you weak. The next six months of negative pregnancy tests sent your husband out the door. Making you now, twenty-six and divorced.

Even though it hurt you at the time, you were now thankful for seeing your ex-husband's true colors that made you glad that you never bore his children.

Jae begged you to get back into dating shortly after the divorce, but you couldn’t. You didn’t have the strength or the heart to go anything remotely close to your last two relationships. Instead, you stuck to the occasional one night stand that left you feeling dirty and self-hateful. It’s silly, but as a twenty-six-year-old woman, you often thought back to high school and how you wondered how differently things could have gone if you went back and changed fate.

The four years that made up the biggest roller coaster in your life. You could recount the events clearly. You had met the love of your life at sixteen years old, when you were dating one of his close friends. Somehow, the two of you managed to fall in love while you were dating his friend and things weren’t going well with his friend anyway. You two broke off mutually and quickly got with him. It was hot and heavy from there.

Everyone around you was worried by how fast you and he went, talking about marriage and loving each other so early in the relationship. Adults warned you, but you both only laughed thinking that nothing could tear you apart. You both lost your virginity to each other and suffered a few pregnancy scares early on. But it didn’t tear you apart.

Year two in your relationship brought a lot of fights. He got easily jealous and so did you. Leading to three breakups in that year. He was jealous of your relationship with his friends, especially the one you once dated and you were jealous of the girls that flocked around him and his crew.

After the last breakup that year, he promised to marry you and gave you the prettiest ring you had ever laid your eyes on. Shortly after, you had ended up pregnant. The fear in his eyes that day was one of your most vivid memories. You guys freaked out, thinking of ways to tell your family and promising to make things work. You were ready to tell your parents and get married, but you had a miscarriage at six weeks.

You went through a lot of emotional turmoil and it caused problems between you and him – again you guys broke up. He quickly started dating one of the girls who fawned over his crowd and so you went to one of the guys from his crowd as well. You both dated others to spite each other and it was some of your darkest days as you still went through the trauma from the miscarriage.

Rumors went around school, that he had started sleeping around and you learned it to be true. It crushed you but you didn’t dare sleep with anyone else, not even his friend. After six months of him sleeping around and you broke up with his friend, you both found your way back to each other. Hooking up on a drunken night and admitted you both still loved each other. Somehow you guys made it work, even though you fought a lot on your third year together.

The fourth year was quieter – at first, as you both tried figuring out how to spend your lives. You wanted to be a journalist and he wanted to be a musical artist. You tried to fit each other in your lives with difficulty. It worked for a while, as you both went down different paths at different schools. With your past, there was still insecurity with each other and since he had never given you your promise ring back, you questioned the love. You guys fought on it, until he left and he ended up getting drunk and cheating on you.

You cried until you passed out. You didn’t eat and you wouldn’t talk to anyone. For a week, you wallowed until you had bags under your eyes, your cheeks were sunken in, and you had a headache that wouldn’t quit. He showed up to the apartment that you stayed at with Jae and begged to speak to you, but Jae didn’t allow it at first. Not until you said you’d talk to him. He begged for forgiveness, apologizing with tears streaming down his cheeks. He told you how much he had loved you and how he would marry you right then and there to prove it. He clutched the promise ring and what seemed like another ring in his other hand.

‘Now you want to give me the promise ring? You waited till you fucked up before you gave it to me. Why? So, you could say that even though you cheated on me, it’s not like you promised me anything, right?’

You cried too hard to deal with him anymore and as he reached to grab your hand, Jae pushed him out of the way and slammed the door as you fell apart. And you stayed like that for a long time.

You pulled yourself back into reality, realizing you had downed the whole wine bottle while thinking back on old times. You could feel that your cheeks were wet with wasteful tears. You knew better. There was no point to waste tears on someone who didn’t truly love you. You shook your head. Besides, that was years ago. For all you knew, he was married with children. You shivered at the though. Closing your eyes.

Your phone buzzed in your back pocket and you reached to grab it, feeling a little tipsy as you accidentally dropped the wine bottle to the ground and getting a few drops on the carpet. You groaned and went to the kitchen to get a wet towel.

When you came back, you scrubbed the floor relentlessly, trying to get the dark red from your perfect white shag carpet. You groaned and scrubbed harder until it was a faint pink. Just as you got most of it out, your phone continued going off. You groaned and were going to get it but as you stood up, you bumped your head on the coffee table.

“Really? Just my f-fucking l-luck.” You rubbed your head as the door bell rung and you stumbled over to get it. You weren’t wasted, but the wine had you tipsy for sure. You sighed, wondering if Jae could work her motherly magic on the carpet and get the stain out. She had become so helpful and knowledgeable after having two kids with her husband.

The doorbell rung furiously and you yelled, “Alright, I’m fucking coming” angrily.

You opened the door without a second thought. “Y/N.” The voice said tenderly when you had fully opened it. The person was blurry until you focused on their eyes for a few moments.

“Baekhyun.” You whispered before your eyes widened and you slammed the door shut as fast as possible. You slumped to the ground. How did he find you? It had been six years and nothing from him. Why now? Why was your first love and your first heartbreak back?

You retrieved your phone from your pocket and scrolled through the messages that Jae had blown you up with.

-Hey! 5:10pm

-I don’t know how to say this 5:10pm

-Fuck 5:10pm

-Well, don’t open your front door 5:11pm

-Y/N! Why aren’t you reading these! I KNOW YOU’RE OFF WORK. 5:12pm

-Don’t open your door when the doorbell rings. 5:13pm

-Okay? 5:13pm

-Don’t do it! 5:13pm

-Y/N! 5:15pm

-ABORT DON’T OPEN THE DOOR 5:16pm

-It’s Baekhyun… I’m sorry. 5:20pm

-Sehun flapped his fucking lips and told. 5:20pm

-I swear I told him not to. 5:20pm

-Seriously! Answer my messages and don’t open the door. I’m sorry he knows where you live. We can move and change your name. I don’t like this neighborhood anyway. Ha. It’s shit. I won’t even bring Sehun since he was the one who decided to tell Baekhyun. 5:25pm

-He said that Baekhyun was all upset and shit and you know how Sehun is a softy. 5:26pm

-Wait why did I tell you that? 5:26pm

-Delete these messages. 5:26pm

-Except for the ones that say don’t open the door. Really don’t open the door. 5:27pm

-Ah, fuck. You’re not answering anyway. 5:30pm

--->two<---

masterlist

[mrgameandpie]

Sometimes, I imagine what it’d be like for someone to love me. Like, to REALLY love me, a lot. For spending time with me to be a high priority for someone, something a person wants to do on a regular and frequent basis. For someone to find me attractive, enjoying my silliness and memes and puns, being into my skeletal figure. For the kind of person I am to actually satisfy another person’s desires.

I’ve only had two significant others before, and both relationships ended pretty quickly due to fundamental parts of who I am clashing with fundamental parts of who they were. It can give the impression of me being unlovable, even if it’s just two people out of so many in the world. I tend to get crushes on fictional characters, and I like to cuddle or otherwise engage in affectionate gestures extremely frequently. Neither of those things seem like traits that are fundamental dealbreakers for most people. On the contrary I’d imagine there are a lot of people out there would would appreciate the cuddles, and many still who would accept the fiction pining. However, because these are the two things about me that primarily caused previous relationships to end, it can still generate a negative view about myself regardless.

One element here is that I really crave affection and praise. I want someone to tell me that they love me, that I matter to them, that they want me around and appreciate what I do. I never feel like I get enough validation in my life, and as such its something that would mean a lot to me. If someone were to say that I looked hot or cute or beautiful or really anything positive about my appearance, that’d shock me, but it’d also mean a lot. Nobody ever says that kind of stuff about me. If someone so much as said I mattered to them, that they considered me an important part of their life, I don’t think I’d know how to respond, but it’d launch my mood straight to Jupiter that’s for sure!

I give out this kind of support and praise to others fairly frequently, generally to people who I feel especially close to. I love doing this, letting people know they’re important to me, validating their feelings and providing comfort and assurance, it is immensely fulfilling and I don’t think I’d ever stop. I’d just like to be on the receiving end too sometimes. It’d mean a lot to me.

I guess looking back, there are a few times where people were interested in me. When I was a little kid, preschool through elementary school, all the girls were my friends in essentially any scenario. The secret, of course, was to respect them as people and be kind, who would’ve guessed? As is typical for kids of that age, a couple of these girls did have crushes on me and at least one claimed she was going to marry me. I remember I always said I felt I was too young to really have a girlfriend and a relationship like that. And, yeah, I was too young! Go little GnP, being reasonably mature.

Even in my adult life, there was one woman who was deeply interested in me, but that did not end well at all. Let’s call her Cindy for simplicity. I met her at church, and she asked if I wanted to hang out sometime. I wasn’t going to college at that moment, I think it was summer, though I was looking for a job. I also was pretty lonely, having lost contact with just about everyone from highschool, not having connected with anyone at college, and most of my internet friends were in a busy period. As such, it was a real no-brainer to take her up on the offer.

The first warning sign happened when she arrived at my house and started talking to my parents about marrying me. Like, we had talked maybe once and already she’s talking about this kind of stuff. However, things only went downhill from there. As previously noted, I love physical affection. Can’t get enough of it. Cindy like touching me a lot, generally on the shoulder or one time where she had me hold her, but unlike with anyone else I’ve ever physically interacted with, with her it felt wrong. So very uncomfortable and unsettling. Cindy didn’t like things or do things, and generally never had anything positive to say. She wasn’t in college at all, wasn’t looking for a job, didn’t have hobbies or even any interests like games, shows, or sports. She read books and manga which is pretty cool, but I could never get her to talk about any of these things. If she said anything, it was almost exclusively life drama. I’m certainly willing to listen about that, support one emotionally and the like, but that was the only thing she ever talked about.  On the flip side, when I would try to talk about anything I was interested in, she always made it a point to let me know she couldn’t follow a word of what I was saying, which was always really disappointing. I make videos where I explain how videogames work and discuss what their positive and negative points are, being able to effectively convey such information even to someone generally uninformed about such matters is a skill I typically take some pride in, for someone who wanted to be important in my life to not understand what I was talking about at all despite my best efforts, it was really disheartening.

As time went on she began to get really mean with me. She’d make fun of my interests, chastise me for not laughing at the jokes she laughed at. Even after I let her know, in no uncertain terms, that I wasn’t romantically interested in her, she continued her attempts at flirting regardless. Finally, one day, she poked or touched me in a way that made me extremely uncomfortable and I asked her to stop touching me. She continued touching me, and made fun of me for wanting some space. After I dropped her home that afternoon, I never saw or talked to her again. She had become a toxic source of negativity and discomfort in my life, and I didn’t need that at all.

One good thing did come out of Cindy though. In an attempt to avoid being alone with her, I began to invite an old highschool friend I hadn’t hung out with in roughly a year. The two of us used to hang out every Friday as the weekend started up, but when I began college that stopped for a time. After the incident with Cindy, my friend and I have regularly spent time together every week, which is nice since he’s basically my only IRL friend at this point.

Quite a few years have past since then, but still the fact remains she’s the only person who has expressed any notable interest in me in my adult life. The two significant others alluded to previously tended to be fairly one-sided when it came to gestures of affection and the like. Not to say either never said they liked me or that they never did anything for me, just that it never felt like either were especially head-over-heels for me. Nor has it felt like anyone was that way.

One thing that’s helped me when I felt I needed affection or assurance has been the previously mentioned crushes on fictional characters.  Throughout my life I’ve probably spent more time inside my imagination than in anything resembling actual physical reality, and as such one of the fantasies I live out is having a stable healthy relationship. Jade Harley, Roxy Lalonde, Sanae Kochiya, Mei Ling Zhou, Kibbles, the list of characters I’ve had crushes on goes on really. Sometimes I’ll refer to them as my “waifus” or the like but that’s generally only sarcastically or as shorthand without having to explain further. In truth, waifu culture tends to indicate a degree of interest that I’ve only really achieved once. You won’t find me buying dakimuras or reading innumerable ReaderXCharacter fics or the like, my own casual fantasies are good enough for me. The one fictional woman I really got into was a unique combination of personality, interests, lifestyle, body type, overall aesthetic, and capability that checked absolutely every checkmark I didn’t even know I had, topped off with a RP scenario that actually allowed me to interact with her which hadn’t even remotely happened outside that instance. The original creator of the character completely lost interest in her though, and now she’s actually my character, who I do intend to using in something in the future. Even still, she continues to act as a comforting force within my mind that nothing has really compared to, we’re a lot alike and even though I didn’t originally create her, she’s a strong part of me now, even stronger than numerous characters I made myself. All that said, I hope to grow to a point some day where I don’t need her anymore, where I’ve found someone real who will want to be with me, who will crave my Thomasness that nobody else can really provide.