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jananakookie · 2 years ago

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Rumor Has It | pjm - Chapter 6

💬 Pairing: Jimin x OC (Reader)

💬 Genre/Tags: enemies(?) to lovers, fake-dating au; angst, fluff, smut

💬 Chapter warnings: sex-talk but nothing too spicy, foul language, mentions of divorce, mentions of incompetent father figure (not important for the story or heavy in general but just so you know)

💬 Word count: 7.5k

💬 Recap:

Rumor has it, Park Jimin is single again after his latest girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend.

Rumor has it, he's willing to get back at them.

Rumor has it, you're the perfect means to an end.

A/N please consider reblogging and commenting if you enjoyed 💚

Previous Chapter - Index - Next Chapter

Chapter 6: Not that different.

It's been several weeks since you met Jimin's parents, and neither you nor he talked about what happened at the bonfire after the two of you were left alone. You prefer it that way, and you don't see any benefit to it anyway, since it will never happen again - that much is clear.

It was a drunken mistake from both of your ends. A mishap resulting from the fact that both of you were under pressure all day and let loose in the evening. A bit too loose, yes - and yet, it doesn't have to mean anything.

Talking about it would only give it more meaning than it has. Nothing has changed. You still have a goal to achieve and you haven’t changed your opinion on Jimin either. He’s still the annoying prick that gives you a headache on a daily and nothing will change that.

Yes, casual sex wouldn’t necessarily mean that would have to change - you’re perfectly aware of that yourself. Many people have a non-strings-attached relationship with a person they don’t necessarily like outside the bedroom, and there is nothing wrong with that, of course. However, you cannot help but think about the talk you had with Jungkook a while ago. The one where he specifically told you to be aware and not get in too deep, and you feel like sleeping with Jimin would definitely count as getting in too deep - no pun intended.

And why the hell does it feel like you're trying to convince yourself? All of this should go without question. You seriously feel like the biggest idiot for even considering this could ever be a possibility. Ew.

Sure, it’s been such a long time since you had the company of other people, especially guys, but that's no excuse to have these thoughts about Jimin.

He’s handsome, and he kisses well. You’re too damn sexually frustrated to resist this temptation when you’re not master of your senses which means, you will have to stay sober from now on.

No more alcohol in the presence of Park Jimin. That sounds doable. You can surely manage. You just hope it is also in his interest not to complicate your agreement and keep it as non-physical as possible.

“You’re unusually quiet today, is something wrong?”

Your silent stare into space is interrupted by Jimin's voice, and you have to blink a few times until your eyes manage to focus on him.

“Do you sometimes miss having sex?” you blurt out, immediately taking him off guard with it. It surprises you as well, but you blame it on the fact that he interrupted your intense flow of thoughts so abruptly.

You watch as his eyes widen for just a split second before they’re back to normal, weirdly mustering you while a grin slowly forms on his lips.

“If there is one thing I'll never get used to, it's your loose mouth and your ability to say the most random shit at the most unfitting times,” he chuckles scratching the nape of his neck. If you didn't know any better, you'd almost say your question made him shy. “Uhm, may I know why you are suddenly asking me this?”

Pretty unbothered, you shrug your shoulders while picking a grape out of his fruit salad, gradually ignoring the glare he sends you right after since you now know he doesn’t actually mind you stealing them.

“I’m just wondering. Hookups aren’t an option for you these days without revealing our secret, so… I figured you must be sexually frustrated at times, no?”

He devolves into a burst of throaty laughter, pushing the bowl with the fruit salad a little closer to you so you don't have to reach so far while keeping his eyes locked with yours. “I’m aright. I am not a caveman, nor am I a teenager, so I do have some self-control, you know?” He explains, leaning his face a bit closer before whispering, “and I still have a well-functioning hand.”

You automatically lean back into your seat with your face showing nothing but pure revulsion. “Disgusting, Park.”

“Hey, you were the one interested in my sex life,” he chuckles, holding his hands up in feigned surrender.

“I just wanted to know if you sometimes feel frustrated. Not how you take care of it,” you declare, rolling your eyes while you try to hide a grin of your own.

“Same difference,” he shrugs, offering you a wink. “But going back to my original question - Why?” Resting his arms on his elbows, he rests his head on his clenched fist and smiles at you as if waiting for a bedtime story.

The reason why you have avoided this question until now should be obvious, but you should have expected it. And it's not uncomfortable for you either - quite the opposite actually, since you’re only human, and stuff like that is nothing out of the ordinary. You just don't know exactly how to explain your curiosity to Jimin without giving him the wrong idea.

Munching on a couple more grapes, you muster him while pursing your lips. “I just had a guess,” you shrug, seeing Jimin furrow his eyebrows at you immediately as if offended, and you laugh. “I know what sexual frustration looks like, Park. I built this city. And I’ve been living here for a while now.”

A deep laugh escapes Jimin’s lips while he shakes his head, but he halts for a quick moment as if to think about his next words before he clears his throat, making it clear that he’s gonna say it anyway.

“Wanna know what I like about you?” he asks in a serious tone, looking like he’s not only surprising you, but him as well with his bold words.

You take a moment before you nod your head in an unsure manner. “Depends. Am I going to regret it?”

“No, I’m being genuine, I promise,” he says, sending a small but honest smile your way as you nod again, silently telling him to continue.

“You’re not afraid or embarrassed to be honest with me. That’s pretty cool,” he admits, becoming sheepish right after while he clears his throat.

To be completely honest, you didn’t expect that but smile, shrugging your shoulders a little to shake the awkwardness off. “I mean, yea. I don’t know why it never feels awkward with you,” you agree, chuckling quietly.

“Must be because I’m so amazing,” he winks, biting his lip. A couple weeks ago you would have gagged at this scene, but you know he doesn't really mean it.

“Or maybe I just don’t care what you think of me,” you return the wink, and grin brightly, feeling that you got the upper hand again.

He scoffs, shaking his head with a grin of his own. “So predictable.”

“Mhm… and does that tell you more about you or me?” You fire back, biting your lip to suppress your own smile.

Jimin smiles at you for a while and you do the same. And it's just about to get awkward again when he shakes his head as if to try and remember what this conversation was actually about before you drifted off to… whatever this was.

“So what exactly is the point of this conversation, ___? Would you like to offer me something?” He gradually bites his lip while grinning and wiggles his eyebrows, thinking exactly about what you did not want him to think, but it’s not a surprise. He's still Jimin.

“Not at all. As I said, I was just wondering,” you say, breaking eye contact with him and shaking your head slightly.

“Are you sure? I like to help where I can,” he smirks, seeing you scoff at his lame attempt at flirting.

“I’m not that desperate yet,” you chuckle, shaking your head immediately.

“Funny you say that now because I have a feeling that’s not always true,” he mutters, while he lowers his gaze and concentrates on eating again. It seems like you shouldn't have heard that, and you almost wouldn't have if you weren't still waiting for an answer anyway.

Whether there is a hidden meaning behind his words or not, you don’t find out because he soon after changes the topic when he starts asking you about an assignment he didn’t understand.

Jimin left just a few minutes ago because he had to go to the bathroom but your concentration, which you actually wanted to direct to your paper, is already interrupted when you suddenly feel the presence of a person next to you.

“Back so soon? Don’t tell me you missed me already,” you grin as you finish the sentence you were already typing out.

Your words get stuck in your throat, however, as you look up, and it's not Jimin who is looking down at you. Instead, it's Yeji, as in Jimin’s ex-girlfriend, who never even acknowledged your existence before this whole fiasco.

But now she’s here, and she obviously wants something from you, considering there isn’t really anyone else close enough to be her person of interest right now.

“Uhm, can I help you?” you look at her, unsure of what’s about to come. Seeing how you never exchanged a word with Lee Yeji before you have no idea what she could want from you. Well, you actually do have an idea because if there is anything connecting the two of you it has to be Jimin, no?

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to cause any trouble,” she quickly says probably sensing you’re in defense mode just from seeing her about to talk to you. “I just have one question for you.”

Furrowing your brows, you make a motion for her to continue, not expecting much in the first place but still interested enough to not just walk off. You don't offer her a seat, though. We do not wanna rush into anything now, do we?

“I know the opinions of the people here are very different, but I just can’t form one for myself. Are you really dating Jimin?”

You raise your brows, closing your laptop while you try to understand what's going on. She did not actually take it upon herself to come to you and ask you that question after everything that happened, did she?

“You know what’s funny?” you ask her, looking her straight in the eyes. “You guys have no problem spreading and believing the most absurd lies about me. But the moment I actually am involved with someone, you refuse to believe it? Make it make sense, please,” you scoff, already grabbing your laptop and standing up from your seating position.

“It wasn’t me who said you were the one in the picture,” she says, eyes firmly kept on yours. “Taehyung said that, not me.” She rushes the words as if to try and keep you longer. For what reason? You have no idea. Probably to get some well-needed information.

“Oh? So what did you do to try and tell everyone the truth?” You ask, raising a brow even though you already know the answer.

It's almost comical how quickly she throws her lover under the bus just to appease you and get some information. But what can you expect from people like them?

Yeji doesn’t say anything to that, and for the first time, her gaze leaves yours, even if it’s just for a split second until her eyes are back on yours.

“Well, if it really is true, then just look out for yourself. I’m not saying he has an ulterior motive, but… he moved on pretty fast.” She has the guts to almost look offended when she says that. As if him moving on is what went wrong between them.

“Thank you for trying to look out for me, but I’ll be fine,” you sarcastically say although you feel as if it didn’t quite reach her as such.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not trying to be a bitch, ___. I’m here because I felt sorry about what happened and wanted to make sure there’s no bad blood between us. I’m not a bad person. I’m really not. I’m sure there are lots of people who wouldn’t agree with me and you’re probably one of them, but just know that I do feel bad about what went down. I would have liked things to happen differently, but… honestly, I can’t change the past. I just hope we can move on from this someday.”

You glance up at Yeji with your mouth agape, trying to suppress a genuine laugh. That must have been the most half-hearted apology you've ever received, and the bored look on her face almost does the rest.

Fortunately for her, you learned a long time ago to see the humor in almost everything, so you don't even hold it against her. Rolling your lips inwardly, you nod your head, making her sigh out in what you interpret as relief.

It's not like you're going to forgive her for what she did, nor will you forget about it. But you don’t see the sense in starting an argument either, and if you’re honest, all you want is for this awkward encounter to end as soon as possible.

To your luck, Yeji leaves soon after, obviously not very keen on talking to you either. And to your amusement, she’s quickly replaced by Jimin, who suddenly pops up next to you, panting heavily as he looks in the direction Yeji just left in.

“Wow, did you run here?”

“What did she want?” He asks, deciding to ignore your question while still glaring at the table where his ex-girlfriend went to.

“Who, Yeji? I’m not too sure. It was an experience I could have gladly missed out on,” you shrug, not really wanting to go into detail since you have no idea what that was either. “But you can relax, she was asking about us, so maybe your plan is finally bearing fruit, and she’s starting to get jealous.”

Jimin groans quietly, rolling his eyes before looking at you. “How many more times, ___. I’m not trying to win her back.”

You’re just about to argue, when your phone starts beeping, signaling you got a new message. Briefly distracted from the actual topic, you take a look at who messaged you and curse under your breath as you hurriedly pack your things together.

Jimin, who was originally just waiting for you to give him attention again, quickly starts to help you put your things in your bag, sensing that whoever just texted you must be more important to you now.

“What’s up?”

“Ugh, it’s my mom. I completely forgot she was coming over today,” you hurriedly answer with a deep scowl while not even looking at him as you walk away with fast steps, knowing he’ll follow you anyway.

“Are you not happy to see her?”

“I am. It’s just that every time she comes over, she’s asking to meet ‘my friends’ and it usually ends with me making up some big ass lie that makes me feel awful as soon as she’s on her way back home.”

“So she doesn’t know about… you know?”

“My situation?” you ask, briefly looking at him before you turn your gaze forward again in fear you might run into something or someone. “Of course not. And I’m not planning on ever letting her know. She has enough on her plate. I don’t need her to worry about me. I’m an adult, after all. I’ll be alright.”

Jimin only nods, completely understanding your decision not to confide in her, even if it makes him uneasy to know that you probably never had anyone to confide in and talk to about your problems. He remembers too well how uncomfortable it was to tell his family about Yeji and Taehyung, especially when he saw how much it upset them out of concern for him, but it still helped him a lot to talk about it. Knowing that you didn't and couldn't do that for years really makes his insides churn for some reason.

You should not have to go through something like this. Especially not alone.

“So, what are your plans for today then?” He would like to disagree and tell you that your mother would understand, but Jimin knows you well enough to know when to keep his mouth shut. Not to forget that it is none of his business anyway.

“I’ll just take her to the café near my apartment. We usually go there when she comes to visit me,” you explain, finally letting a small smile appear on your lips. “And then, I’ll just hope she doesn’t try to dig too deep today and accepts my lame excuse about my friends being busy one more time.”

An idea of how he can help you suddenly comes to Jimin's mind, but he decides to not let you in on it for now. Instead, he only accompanies you to your apartment door as usual and immediately disappears on your demand.

And while you try to fix up your apartment as best you can until your mother finally arrives, Jimin is on his way to save your day.

You must look like an idiot.

You really must look like an idiot right now with your mouth hanging wide open, your mother happily chattering about whatever the hell you were talking about before you caught sight of a familiar blond mop of hair, neatly gelled back.

Not that you did it on purpose, but the moment you thought you saw Jimin outside the window of the café where you're currently sitting with your mother, you completely blanked her out.

But despite the rain, there are so many people out and about today that the blond mop, which seemed to be familiar, has disappeared somewhere in the mass of people and can no longer be located by you.

With a frown, you shake your head in an attempt to direct your thoughts back to what is actually important. Jimin would tease you for weeks if he knew he had taken over your thoughts enough that you would confuse him with some rando on the streets. Without a doubt, making it sound like you cannot stop thinking about him or some shit like that.

As if.

“—Lately we have hardly been in touch. I've almost forgotten what you look like, honey.” The condemning, yet partly joking tone in your mother's voice draws your attention back to her for a brief moment as you sigh.

“I told you, mom. There’s just a lot going on these days. I hardly find the time to do anything.”

“It’s fine,” she says, sending you a warm smile. “I just worry about you. Please don’t overwork yourself too much. You are too old now for me to remind you to eat regularly and healthily.”

Apathetic, you poke around in your cheesecake while you hum a response. “Been doing stuff with friends for the most part. We’re going out to eat a lot, don’t worry.”

Technically that’s not a lie. Since you've been spending time with Jimin, you have been eating healthier and more balanced meals than ever before. And you would say that's probably one of the reasons you've kept up this charade for so long.

The instant noodle days are not yet missed by you.

And even if you don't like to admit it, lunch with Jimin and Hyunjin often involves a lot of laughter and fun. Sometimes there are a few other friends of Jimin's, often it's just the three of you, and lately, Jimin and you have managed to persuade even Nayeon to join your little group.

In those moments it sometimes even feels like you really belong, and it almost makes you dread the doom day when your fake relationship with Jimin is over, and you're going to be back to being alone.

Being alone never was that big of a deal for you. Yeah, it did get lonely at times, but with time you got used to it. Getting used to the company of others again, however, went a lot faster. It certainly won't be easy to master the art of being on your own again after all this time.

She literally beams all over her face at your words and it makes the guilt almost unbearable. “I’m glad to hear that! It’s such a shame your friends couldn’t make it.”

You swallow thickly, lowering your gaze back onto your half-eaten cheesecake. Your appetite is completely gone now. Literally, all this woman wants is for you to be happy and live a normal life, and you can’t even do that? A woman in her twenties, making up friends to tell her mother about. How fucking pathetic.

“Nevertheless, I would be very happy if you would call or send a message at least once in a while. Let's say once a week, so I know that you are still alive,” your mom grins, making a smile crack on your lips as well.

“Mom, please. It’s not like I never—”

“I’m afraid that might be my fault.” A voice suddenly cuts through yours, making your words stuck in your throat. Turning your head, you see Jimin standing in front of your table, kindly smiling down at your mother. “I just take up all of her time these days,” he chuckles, smiling brightly as his gaze drifts from your mother to you. “I tried to come as soon as possible. I’m really sorry I couldn’t make it sooner.”

You feel yourself shrink in your seat as you sense your mother’s eyes burn through your skull, but you’re unable to take your eyes off of him. You’re too stunned to say or do anything at the moment. What is he doing?!

He cleans up nicely, looking as smug and expensive as always, even if he undoubtedly walked through the rain to get here. In his left hand, he’s holding a big, bright-colored bouquet while his right hand is already shaking your mother’s.

You see how their mouths move, and they talk to each other. Your mother laughs, Jimin grins, he hands her the flowers, she gestures with her arm while saying something to him, and the next moment you see him sit down next to you. You see all of this happening but don't really hear a word they're saying.

You are much too busy to realize that this is really happening. Jimin is really here.

His gaze travels over you in a way that makes you gulp and causes you to shiver involuntarily so you take a deep breath, finally getting out of your trance as you sense they’re both waiting for you to say something.

No doubt you immediately recognize this excited glimmer in your mom's eyes and watch as she expectingly raises her eyebrows, wordlessly telling you to introduce him too.

You clear your throat and slide a few centimeters further to the window to try and put some distance between you and Jimin because as usual he doesn't understand the concept of personal space.

Honestly, he might as well have sat on your lap…

“Uhm Mom, this is Jimin. My friend—”

“Boyfriend.”

In a fraction of a second, you turn your head to him, not believing what he just said. He doesn’t react, doesn’t even look at you. Instead, he puts his arm around your shoulders and pushes you closer against him while rubbing your arm.

You clench your fists under the table, hoping that your mother doesn’t notice, and suck your bottom lip into your mouth before you turn your gaze to at her again to see her reaction.

It is no surprise that she almost bursts with joy from the unexpected news seeing how she inconspicuously has been trying to find out something about your love life for ages — without any success, of course. So it was probably to be expected that she would react like this.

“A boyfriend, ___? Why didn't I know about this?”

She doesn’t sound disappointed in the slightest. If anything, she uses more of a teasing tone with you, making it even more awkward.

“This has not been going on for long, mom. I just didn't get to tell you about it yet,” you lie, once again poking around in your cheesecake. “It’s not like it’s that important.”

Your mom gasps, frowning at you with a displeased, judgmental look in her eyes, and you know if you were alone with her right now, you would meet the slipper. “You little— How can you say that. Of course your boyfriend is important!”

You can hear Jimin snicker beside you, and you would love to shut him up, but you don't want to make it even worse with your mother.

The two of them happily engage in a conversation, completely ignoring your presence while your mother asks him question after question, wanting to know everything about him and seemingly being more than smitten with him already.

It’s understandable, really. You can’t blame her. Jimin really is charismatic. He answers every question with ease, not once stuttering or stumbling over his words like you found yourself doing while conversing with his family.

He is friendly, polite, extremely handsome, and well-spoken, and it worries you how comfortable and familiar your mother already seems with him. The little shit even brought her flowers!

This is exactly what you feared and what was the reason that you didn’t want her to find out about this. You know your mother and you know that she will not let this go which only means you have to lie to her again and again.

As if your conscience was not already burdened enough.

The moment your mother excuses herself and leaves to use the restroom, you finally crumble, ready to yell at him but before you can muster a word, he beats you to it.

“This is going pretty well, don’t you think?” With a bright, content grin on his face, he leans back in his seat.

The moment he lifts his arm and wraps it around your shoulders again, you snap. Grabbing his arm, you immediately push him off with force before you bark at him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

Jimin is visibly surprised by your sudden outburst, and he takes a couple of moments before he clears his throat and runs his fingers through his hair, a slight frown now visible between his eyes.

“I’m… having a nice little chat with your mother,” he states in a calm voice, obviously not seeing anything wrong with what he’s doing. “She’s nice. I think she likes me too,” he adds, raising his brows in question when your only response is a loud, annoyed groan before you lean your elbows on the table and slap your hands over your face.

“No no no no no…” you silently chant to yourself, your voice coming out muffled. “This is bad. This is so bad.”

“What is?“ Jimin asks, sounding unbothered as if to silently tell you that you're overreacting.

You face him again, and for a split moment, you seriously consider smacking the back of his head. “My mom likes you, Jimin! She really likes you,” you sigh.

“So?” He scoffs. “Of course she does. I’m amazing. I thought you’d be happy about that. I mean… isn’t that what normal people want? For their parents to like their boyfriend?”

“But that’s the thing, Jimin!” you groan, gaping at him with your eyes opened wide. “You are not my boyfriend. And when we ‘break up‘, she’ll be sad about that now,” you explain, annoyed that you even have to do that. “Even worse, she'll want me to pour my heart out to her or something!”

Jimin stays silent, pressing his lips together while he draws his eyebrows together in a slight frown. “Why do you always have to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Worry about things, that haven’t even happened yet. You always do that. Why can’t you just enjoy things as they are from time to time?”

“What do you even mean? There isn’t anything to enjoy. This is an act, you remember? And it will end soon, and then—”

“See? You’re doing it again. You’re so uptight. Just let loose for once and live a little.”

“Excuse me?” you scoff, feeling offended.

“What? It’s true. I can offer you a jacket when you forgot yours and you’d be like ‘don’t do that Jimin, we aren’t actually dating’, or I could pay for food when we’re alone and you’d say ‘stop it Jimin, you’re not actually my boyfriend’, and now I can’t even be liked by your mom without you complaining about her being sad when we eventually break up. It’s annoying. Your mantra is making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“Well, what else do you want me to say? I’m just trying to do the job and stay focused. Stay rational. As we both agreed from the start. I didn’t want my mom to find out about us. That was not part of the deal. Not to forget that it was not necessary for her to ever find out about this in the first place!” Even though you are already boiling with rage, you try to be as discreet as possible and not raise your voice. But it’s hard. It’s so hard right now.

“I even told you that I did not want my mother to know about it. Several times,” you hiss, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I know,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But I just wanted to help. You were complaining about her asking about your friends and stuff earlier, and I thought—”

“You thought just showing up here and pretending to be my boyfriend would magically make it better?” You scoff. “All you have achieved is that you have only made things worse. For you it seems to be the easiest thing in the world to lie to your family, you don't even bat an eye when you do it, but I'm not like that. This fucking sucks, Jimin.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest and stubbornly look out the window without exchanging another word with him.

It may be childish behavior, but you don't feel like talking to him anymore. Fortunately, he seems to feel the same way, because he also doesn't say a word to you. And so it comes that you both keep silent until your mother comes back from the restroom and directly joyfully continues her previous conversation with Jimin in which he immediately engages without letting on anything.

And even if your mother doesn’t seem to notice anything, you sure do. Because it is obvious that your words have not left him untouched.

Hours passed, your Mom has left, and you’re seriously happy you somehow survived the day without any major problems occurring. She bought your little lie and was more than happy to spend the day with not just you, but Jimin as well and it’s eating at you.

It makes you shoot daggers from your eyes into the bathroom door behind which Jimin is just now, a shallow beam of light shooting out from under the door, the only recognizable sign that there is anyone else in the apartment besides you.

To be honest, you’re quite surprised he’s still here. Your mother left fairly late, seeing how she was too engrossed in getting to know your boyfriend and swooning over him. You internally cringe just thinking about it.

It’s going to be so embarrassing having to explain to her why she won’t ever meet him again. Even if you were able to push it to the back of your mind for the past couple of hours for your Mom's sake, you’re still mad at Jimin for pulling that stunt out of the blue earlier.

This boy just never stops complicating things for you, and you don’t get why he does the things that he does.

“So, it’s just you and your mom?” Jimin asks, which is the first thing he does as soon as he comes out of the bathroom and joins you in the kitchen.

You nod, not turning your attention from washing the dishes. Jimin wordlessly grabs a towel to dry up and help you finish sooner.

“My parents divorced when I was still very young. Haven’t really seen my Dad ever since, but we were never that close anyway, so it’s whatever. I always had a much stronger bond with my mother.”

Jimin hums, thinking for a moment before he speaks again. “Do you miss him sometimes?”

You shrug, taking a brief moment to answer, and Jimin studies the way your brows draw together while you seem deep in thought. He’s afraid he asked too much, scared of being too nosey, but to his relief, you shake your head soon after with your lips forming a small pout.

“Can’t say that I do,” you say, once again looking at him for just a blink of an eye before turning back to work. “As I said, we were never that close. I barely have any memories of him doing... well, anything with me really. It was always my mom who did the most work which is also why they ended up getting a divorce. He was never much of a father figure anyway.”

“Sounds like you aren’t upset about it,” he wonders, a little surprised by your nonchalant tone.

You laugh shortly, but to Jimin, it seems genuine, which confuses him even more. Shouldn’t you be hurt or angry? Last time he checked, most people didn’t like their fathers leaving them without a trace.

“What do you want me to do? Cry about it? Should I curse and insult him?” You joke.

“No, but… don’t you care?”

“I was nine when they split, Jimin,” you explain in a calm, very collected voice with a face showing no trace of any foul emotion. “I had plenty of time to be angry about it when I was younger, but now? I think I can understand him. He wasn’t happy with his life, so he left. Stuff like that happens all the time, and there’s nothing we can do about it. My mom and I managed just fine on our own. Trust me, It’s easier to live your life without someone who doesn’t really want to be in it in the first place. I barely ever saw him after he left, but he made sure to support us financially and he still sends me a card every year on my birthday. Was he a good dad? Hell no, but he did what he could, I guess. Not everyone’s cut out to be a parent.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything after that for a long time. It makes you wonder if you said something wrong.

You didn’t. Jimin just doesn’t really know what to say. You clearly have made your peace with the situation so there isn’t really anything for him to say against it.

“I guess it probably drew you and your mom even closer,” he suddenly speaks up again. “It’s obvious you guys share a tight bond.”

“We do, and I’m very happy it’s like that,” you smile, not really looking at him as you put away the cups and plates, Jimin has already dried.

“I’m sorry I made you lie to her,” his voice suddenly appears behind you, sounding a lot smaller and quieter than it usually does.

You turn around to face him, mustering the look on his face. “Yea, I’m not gonna lie, that really bugs me. Although I’ve kinda been lying to her for the past couple of years now when it comes to me and any social contacts so… I guess it’s not that big of a deal.”

Jimin knows you’re not happy with him right now. Not that you ever are, but this time he really feels bad about it, knowing how uncomfortable you must have felt the whole day. He knows how bad it feels to lie to your family about this kind of thing, but at least he made the decision himself. You didn’t have that luxury, and it’s his fault. It’s not that he meant for you to feel this way, he just didn’t think things through - again.

“That wasn’t my intention. I honestly just wanted to help but ended up making it worse for you. I’m sorry. Didn’t really think about the consequences,” he apologizes, looking a little embarrassed.

You loudly exhale through your nose, jokingly rolling your eyes at him. “How about you stop trying to help or do things for me?” You suggest, grinning at him slightly. “’Cause honestly, you’re pretty shit at it.”

Jimin purses his lips while slightly nodding his head in agreement. “I might consider it. Can’t really disagree with you here.”

You snort out a laugh and smack him with the towel which makes him laugh as well while he tries to avoid getting hit a second time - without much success.

“Why did you lie to me that time at my parents’?” Jimin asks, making your head shoot up as soon as he finishes, making it clear you immediately know what he’s talking about even without him having to go into detail.

You gulp, lowering your head again because looking at him would add another layer of awkwardness right now, and you don’t need that.

“Yes, I noticed. No, it was not hard to tell you were lying. Not at all,” he adds after a while of you not giving him an answer.

“It’s not like it would have changed anything,” you scoff. “I was just drunk. Saying and doing things I didn’t mean. And so were you. It didn’t mean anything, so why talk about it?”

Jimin doesn’t instantly say anything to that but he’s watching you intently before shaking his head as he sends an arrogant smirk your way. “You sure about that? Because it didn’t really seem that way when you were—”

“Alright, we get it!“ You interrupt him, knowing exactly what he’s going to say. Turning your back on him, you ignore his mocking laughter.

“No, but seriously, why are you always so keen on not crossing any boundaries? I understand that our situation is a bit… unusual, and it’s not like I’m asking you to have sex with me, but we can be friends. There is nothing to say against getting along well with each other.”

Jimin halts for a moment to see if you’re going to contradict, but when he sees no reaction whatsoever on your face, he continues with a sigh.

“I like teasing you because it’s fun, and you look like a puffer fish when you’re about to snap at me which is a bit cute— however, that doesn’t mean that I don’t like you or that you constantly have to be on edge with me. I’m really trying here. Why can’t I be friendly without you immediately going for my neck?”

Having your arms crossed over your chest, you roll your eyes when he finishes his little speech. “Want to send a little prayer, or are you done?”

Jimin scoffs at your incapability of being serious, but you think you can see him trying to hide a little smile as he leans against your kitchen counter and sends a defeated look your way.

“You’re a bit much sometimes, Jimin.” You tell him, being as honest as you can. “Ever since we got into this fake relationship thing, you've been around me constantly. And that can be pretty overwhelming at times.”

“Why? Are you scared you could catch feelings for me?” He smirks, wiggling his brows, obviously back in joking mode, whereas you gulp and shrug your shoulders as your eyes drift from him to the floor.

“Maybe.” It comes out in a small voice, but Jimin still hears you clearly, and it wipes the grin off his face almost instantly.

“Oh.”

“It’s not what you think, Park,” you quickly add, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. “Please don’t get ahead of yourself,” you then scoff, rolling your eyes when his expression tells you he already did have the wrong idea. “At this point, even if I tried to deny it, I just have to accept that I obviously am very desperate, okay?”

Jimin is frowning now, eyebrows knitted together as he inspects your face.

“Yesterday while shopping, a stranger held the door open for me, and I got flustered and giggled while thanking him. I giggled, Park! I got flustered because a stranger did not slam the door in my face! What is happening to me?”

Jimin doesn’t answer as he bursts into laughter, very visibly amused by your distress, whereas you start to pout, seeing how he doesn’t take you seriously at all.

“I’m not joking,” you mutter, feeling your ears getting hot. Granted, it does sound pathetic and a little dramatic, you can admit that. But it doesn't change the fact that it is a true story after all.

“In any case, it's important to me that we maintain a certain distance. When all this is over, we’ll just go back to being strangers anyway,” you shrug, getting back to work and putting some of the dishes back into the cupboards.

Jimin’s laughter has died down. Your words were pretty harsh and Jimin knows you didn't mean it sarcastically either. Even though your way of being straightforward and always honest with him is something he really admires and likes about you since it’s refreshing, it can be just as hurtful sometimes.

He knows that you don't do it on purpose because you want to hurt him but because it's your way. It honestly took some getting used to on his part, but he thinks he can manage by now.

And still, when you say stuff like that and then act as if nothing happened, it pisses him off.

“You were wrong by the way,” his voice suddenly interrupts the silence you were about to enjoy, and you turn back around to face him again, not quite knowing what he means.

“I don’t enjoy lying to my family. And it’s not easy for me either.”

His voice is calm and collected, and his eyes do not stray from you which allows you to see the disenchantment in them again, just like you did earlier. You’re struck with a pang of guilt when you notice it, feeling bad about never being able to shut your damn mouth, especially in the heat of a moment.

You didn’t mean it like that when you accused him of that. It was just the frustration and anger getting the best of you, and you regretted your words as soon as they left your lips. There is no doubt that he loves and respects his family very much, and you should not have said something like that. Especially since you aren't any better. You have been lying to your mother for years, inventing friends and stories that don't exist only because you’re ashamed to tell her who you actually are.

“I know. I didn’t have the right to say that to you. Not in my position,” you scoff at your own stupidity and shake your head as you feel a headache coming up.

“Well, you have every right to be mad at me. We did talk about our families before, and you told me more than once that you wouldn’t want her to find out, so yea… that’s completely on me again. I can see how that would make you mad.”

You purse your lips and muster him slightly. “See? This is literal proof that you are in fact, able to have clear thoughts so why don’t you ever decide to think before you act?” You then ask, smirking a little.

After that, the atmosphere between you starts to be a little lighter again, and it is very much appreciated by both of you.

Without any more words, he quickly helps you put away the rest of the washed dishes and then announces that he is slowly making his way home.

“Your mom is very nice by the way, and she cares about you a lot,” he says while putting his jacket on while on his way to your door. “She would understand. I’m about 99% sure she wouldn’t judge or blame you.”

You of course know what he’s digging at, but there is one thing you don’t quite understand.

“Who said anything about her judging me?”

Jimin offers you a kind smile while his hand already goes for the knob on your front door to open it.

“We’re not that different, you know, babygirl?”

And with a last obnoxious wink, he walks out, wishing you a good night without actually turning around to look at you again.

You keep standing there a little dumbfounded for a while, looking after him until he’s gone around a corner and you can’t see him anymore before you frown and scoff, closing your door.

“We are very much different, Park Jimin.”

#jimin au #jimin fake dating au #jimin enemies to lovers #jimin angst #park jimin #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin fanfic #bts jimin #jimin scenarios #jimin x reader #jimin imagine

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graylinesspam · 2 years ago

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Been trying to sparse out some thoughts on Ahsoka handling the ASOI timeline events. Been trying to figure out which elements actually fit into the story and which I just day dream about a lot. Themes that continue to pop up include:

Ahsoka spends years hearing about how much of a trouble maker Anakin was as a padawan. How much he snuck away from the temple and participated in illegal street racing and got arrested.

Ahsoka proceeds to join a speeder board racing ring to make some money when it's clear that few legitimate businesses are willing to hire someone with such a famous face.

She makes decent money racing but finds her talents in mechanics lead to better opportunities. Still she races occasionally when she needs the extra income.

Several times footage of the races have ended up on the holonews and Ahsoka skating around the nasty alleys of Coruscant in her iconic big pants little shirt outfits become big news.

Some jedi masters talk shit about her for this. Ahsoka retaliates against the shit-talking in very specific keep my name out of your mouth kinda ways

Ahsoka as a celebrity makes some friends with other famous kids/young adults which goes pretty portly for her. Whether it's getting made fun of for not profiting off her career/ being poor. Or having rumors constantly flying around about who she's sleeping with. Or just not having the freedom to relax and dance at a party without footage of her showing up on news sights and tabloid covers bitching about how inappropriate it is for a young Togruta girl to 'behave so provocatively in public'. She cannot catch a break. Turns out rich kids are just not good company.

Ahsoka takes up drinking. Let's be honest she's like 16/17 and loose on Coruscant at the lowest point of her life. Every decision she makes is wrong in some way and she can't escape the gaping loneliness. It makes sense for her to drink. Not enough to be a lasting problem but she definitely gets in trouble.

The coruscant guard is some kind of fucked up about hunting her. Ahsoka is spotted by several troopers visibly flinching away when she sees them in the street and because of this, they do their best to respectfully avoid her.

This also becomes kind of a superpower for her because no matter how many illegal races she participates in or how many government buildings she breaks into they refuse to arrest her. Fox feels so bad about everything that he ordered them not to even speak to her.

With the exception of ending up in the Drunk tank a couple of times Ahsoka never interacts with the Corrie guard.

Also on a few occasions. (at really really low points for her) Ahsoka disguises herself with a shit ton of makeup baggy clothes and a hooded cloak and sneaks into 49s just to sit in a corner and listen to the men act a fool.

She's not nearly as subtle as she thinks (come on a hood is a jedi regulation disguise). And a few clones have tattled on her to her brothers. But she never shows up when any of the 501st are planet side.

Ahsoka also gets a tattoo on her wrist. It starts as just Echo's handprint. Something blue and super small, subtle even. And it ends up being a whole charm bracelet of subtle clone symbols all around her wrist. (I always think of Scarlet Johanson's tattoo).

Ahsoka has to start wearing a head covering over her montrals because of 'cultural modesty' shit like so many of the twi'leks do through out star wars. She doesn't do it by choice tho.

#star wars #ahsoka tano #clone wars #sw tcw #tcw #ASOI

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cheapsweets · 10 months ago

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The musophobic Zomargon

My response to this week’s BestiaryPosting challenge, from @maniculum

Pencil sketch, then lines in Sailor fude nib fountain pen, using Diamine Sepia ink.

As ever, reasoning under the cut...

"There is an animal called the Zomargon, which has no desire to mate. His nose is called a trunk because he uses it to put food in his mouth. The Persians and Indians, carried in wooden towers on their backs, fight with javelins as from a wall. Zomargons have a lively intelligence and a long memory; they move around in herds; they flee from a mouse; they mate back-to-back. The female is pregnant for two years, and gives birth no more than once, and not to several offspring but to one only. Zomargons live for three hundred years."

There's a lot of behavioural information in here, but not much I can see that would affect creature design (though it's good to know that they are sociable creatures). "His nose is called a trunk" however, now that term definitely rings a bell 🤔 Obviously this is one of the more obvious prompts we've been given so far, but of course, half the fun is about putting onself in the shoes of someone coming to this description without any preconceptions, and seeing what we come up with...

A nose this creature uses to put food in its mouth really doesn't leave a lot of room for interpretation; it has to be long and flexible enough to ferry food to this creatures mouth, so I ended up taking a lot of inspiration from seals of the genus Mirounga, with the additon of some muscular flanges on the end to help with actually holding things (as revealed in the head sketch to the right of the main image).

We also have a tiny sketch in the top right of some Persians (though they might actually be Indians...) hurling javelins from the protection of their ramparts atop their wooden tower, in term atop a large Zomargon...

I'm going to assume that where is says a Zomargon gives birth no more than once, it means per pregnancy, otherwise I can't see the population of these beasts being sustainable...

"If a Zomargon wants to father sons, it goes to the East, near Paradise; there the tree called mandragora, the mandrake, grows. The Zomargon goes to it with his mate, who first takes fruit from the tree and gives it to her male. And she seduces him until he eats it; then she conceives at once in her womb. When the time comes for her to give birth, she goes out into a pool, until the water comes up to her udders. The male guards her while she is in labour, because Zomargons have an enemy - the dragon. If the Zomargon finds a snake, it kills it, trampling it until it is dead. The Zomargon strikes fear into bulls, yet fears the mouse."

Udders! So we know the Zomargon must be a mammal/beast.

"The Zomargon has this characteristic: if it falls down, it cannot rise. But it falls when it leans on a tree in order to sleep, for it has no joints in its knees. A hunter cuts part of the way through the tree, so that when the Zomargon leans against it, Zomargon and tree will fall together. As the Zomargon falls, it trumpets loudly; at once a big Zomargon goes to it but cannot lift it. Then they both trumpet and twelve Zomargons come, but they cannot lift the one who has fallen. Then they all trumpet, and immediately a little Zomargon comes and puts its trunk under the big one and lifts it up. The little Zomargon has this characteristic, that when some of its hair and bones have been burnt, nothing evil approaches, not even a dragon."

Now, an animal with no joints in its knees is going to have a pretty frickin' weird gait... I drew this creature with almost perfectly straight legs, and I almost imagine it swinging them around to the side in order to get some forward motion.

Have another tiny sketch of the littlest Zomargon coming to help its fallen elder up (this is going to be another religious allegory, isn't it...?); I didn't have the time or space to draw all 12 other Zomargons, but one of them is trumpeting...

The mention of hair, as well as the previous knowledge that this is a beast, implies that the Zomargon is most likely covered in hair. This also implies that a hunter has caught one of the smaller Zomargons and butchered it for parts/components - I suppose if a little Zomargon falls over there is no-one else to help it 😢

"Whatever Zomargons wrap their trunks around, they break; whatever they trample underfoot is crushed to death as if by the fall of a great ruin. They never fight over female Zomargons, for they know nothing of adultery. They possess the quality of mercy. If by chance they see a man wandering in the desert, they offer to lead him to familiar paths. Or if they encounter herds of cattle huddled together, they make their way carefully and peaceably lest their tusks kill any animal in their way. If by chance they fight in battle, they have no mean of the wounded. [IDK bro, that’s what it says.] For they take the exhausted and the injured back into their midst"

Well, the only land animals I can think of that have tusks are swine, and some deer... Partially because it's not a type of animal I've drawn thus far, and partially because it's a more obvious fit for 'tusks', I ended up taking a lot of inspiration for wild boars, particularly the head, ears and body shape (albeit a giant boar with very long, unbending legs!).

Of all the creatures we've met so far in our bestiary tour, this feels like one of the ones I'd be most happy chilling with :)

#Zomargon #maniculum bestiaryposting #bestiaryposting #my art #art challenge

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fatesresonance · 2 years ago

Text

11/15/22-11/16/22, archived from Twitter

――――

Diluc having insomnia

It may appear he keeps himself up at night intentionally doing vigilante work, but really, he cannot stand laying in bed staring up at the ceiling anymore.

He doesn't remember being like that as a kid. Perhaps it's from needing to constantly be vigilant during his journey, sleeping light and little... He was so exhausted, but he had to keep moving. Stay on his toes and never let his guard down.

Now, it's unneeded. The truth of this fact is irrelevant, though, because his body does not care for facts - it cares for patterns and fight or flight, and he cannot remember a time he hasn't been in fight or flight.

Diluc stares emptily at the kitchen table, bringing a mug of warm drink up to his mouth. He takes a swig. He feels rather numb and tired.

It was a long day. He wishes for an equally long sleep.

He hears soft footsteps pat down the staircase. Diluc lifts his head.

"Luc?" Kaeya murmurs softly. His shadow dances in the candle light. "What are you doing up?"

"What are /you/ doing up?" Diluc asks in kind.

There's a moment's pause.

"Couldn't sleep," Kaeya replies.

"Likewise." Diluc takes another swig. "What's wrong? Too cold?"

Kaeya shakes his head and finishes his descent. He pulls up the chair next to Diluc and sits.

It's odd being up together at this time... So close, too, like it's old times. Kaeya keeps close like the chilly little boy he used to be, always curling up against Diluc's eternal warmth.

Kaeya looks like he can barely keep his eyes open, yet too wired at the same time.

Diluc doesn't know when Kaeya fell asleep - they're in separate rooms, after all - but it seems like the sands of the sandman did not grace him well tonight.

"Just couldn't sleep," Kaeya says lamely.

Diluc nods. "I made cider. Do you want some?"

Kaeya perks up. "Is it warm?"

"Of course."

Diluc tilts his now empty mug towards Kaeya and lets him feel the excess warmth in the ceramic.

"I'll get us some."

Diluc stands and slips into the kitchen.

When he returns, it's with two mugs of warm apple cider to fill their tummies. It definitely won't help Diluc any more, but Kaeya's a little easier to settle.

Kaeya picks his head up off his arms and cracks a smile.

"Thank you." Kaeya accepts the mug.

Diluc settles back down with a wordless nod.

Silence lies between them. Despite it, it's comfortable. The fire crackles in chippery pops and hissing of excess moisture.

"Why are you up?" Kaeya repeats himself, finally.

"I already answered you." Diluc's burning eyes fix on Kaeya.

Kaeya snorts. "It's not a good answer, then." He stares, expression unreadable. Diluc's not sure if he likes the attention. "Are you usually up?"

"What do you mean?" Diluc asks warily.

"I rarely see you without eyebags," Kaeya replies bluntly. "And I find you in the same clothes as the night before, or dozing in places you shouldn't be."

Hah. Diluc should have pinned Kaeya as more observant.

"Guilty," he reluctantly admits.

Diluc takes as many naps as he can - that his body allows. It also means naps he doesn't necessarily authorize. Sometimes this means accidentally dozing off at a tavern table or his office.

Really, it makes no sense sleeping in a public area when public areas make him jumpy.

Kaeya lets out a soft huff of a chuckle. "Insomniac, then?"

"Admittedly."

Kaeya hums quietly. He drinks from his mug, seemingly content with Diluc's answer.

It's not a secret, definitely. But something about Kaeya knowing something as 'private' as that makes it seem so.

Makes Diluc feel... an odd type of vulnerable. Perhaps it's the fatigue talking.

The fatigue talks further.

"I do try to sleep at normal times," Diluc says, eyes straight into his cider. "Honest. But something keeps me up. Saying it's not safe to, or it's not possible."

Kaeya stares at him wordlessly.

"Exercise, warmth, relaxation, any trick in the book, doesn't work either. So I get what I can."

"Saying that it's not safe to?" Kaeya softly prompts.

It's silly, isn't it? Diluc's not a child anymore, nor is he on a battlefield, or fighting for his life, or running in Snezhnaya.

Diluc watches the amber in his mug swirl. It's dark and rich, relaxing as relaxing can be.

"I don't know what'll convince my brain otherwise," Diluc laughs, rather humorlessly and dry. His eyes burn. "Sometimes it eases... Not often, though."

Diluc knows the cider isn't spiked - he made it himself - but he finds his tongue looser than he usually likes it.

He looks up at Kaeya, somber. A little pitiful too.

"I'm so tired, Kae."

Too tired to work, but too awake to rest. It feels like fight or flight is all he'll ever be in, even after being home.

Does vigilantism keep him in that state? Is he tearing himself down with his own hands for the sake of a city - and dare he say, his own destruction?

Diluc's temples pound.

Kaeya's gaze softens. Diluc cannot stand to watch, and instead drops his head to ease the ache.

"I can't say I know what it's like," Kaeya says, quiet and gentle. Diluc's thankful for the low volume. "Being... on edge in such a way constantly."

Diluc's heart skips a beat as Kaeya's hand reaches out and covers his own.

"Or consistently unable to rest."

Kaeya's skin is soft. It's home. Diluc's home with him.

"But I'm here with you, whether I understand or not. If you can't make yourself feel safe..." Kaeya nibbles his bottom lip. "Then it's my job to protect you for a while."

Diluc doesn't know what to say. His emotions are so shot that he's utterly numb. His thoughts feel like sludge.

Nonetheless... Kaeya's last sentence struck him. If Diluc had any energy, he would have wept.

Tonight, he stares with prickling eyes and a warm tummy.

Kaeya gestures to Diluc's mug. They resume drinking in peace in each other's silent company.

The fire crackles on. The candles dance in time.

Once their mugs are empty and the cider is gone, Kaeya stands. Diluc remains seated, staring at the table aimlessly.

"Luc?"

Diluc lifts his head. He locks eyes with Kaeya.

Kaeya smiles warmly. It reaches his eyes, just as he reaches out a hand. "I'm cold."

Diluc follows Kaeya to bed, hand in hand.

Kaeya strips him reverently. Each layer of clothing comes off in slow, methodical movements, his hands tender and kisses just as much.

Kaeya slips off Diluc's bartending vest. He folds it, puts it on a nearby chair. His hands splay across Diluc's torso, feeling his heat through the thin shirt. Once pulled off, that, too, is folded and set aside.

Diluc doesn't know what to do with his hands.

He feels awkward standing there, but his brain lags too much to find something intelligent to do.

Kaeya seems to read him easily and guides his hands to his waist. Then, ever so softly, he places kisses so tender it hurts on Diluc's bare skin.

They're chaste, but loving, grounding, bringing Diluc to this moment. His brain can float in fatigue another night; Kaeya nuzzles into his neck and tucks away stray stands of hair, and this deserves all of Diluc's attention.

"Take off your pants and I'll find you some pajamas," Kaeya tells him, pulling away.

Diluc obeys. He's pliant in Kaeya's hands, malleable, and oh so loved.

Kaeya returns from the dresser with long, soft loungy pants.

It's the only article of clothing Diluc wears to bed, usually, due to his vision making him prone to overheating.

Diluc changes into them as Kaeya wishes. When he does, Kaeya takes his hand in a soft grasp and brings him to bed.

It's been slept in. It's Kaeya's bedroom, and the blankets are messed, but Kaeya fluidly tucks them both in when Diluc lays down with him with his back to the wall.

It's comfortable. The mattress sinks beneath Diluc's weight and everything smells like Kaeya, Kaeya, /Kaeya./

He's so tired it's maddening.

Kaeya extinguishes the lone candle that gives them light on the nightstand. Then, he turns, and envelops Diluc in his arms.

Diluc's stiffens at first. Kaeya's hand cups the back of his head, though, and guides his face to his chest.

Kaeya tucks him under his chin.

"I'm cold," he whispers. "So stay with me and keep me warm. I can protect you."

Kaeya's fingers rake through Diluc's hair soothingly.

There comes a point where Diluc unfurls with the deepest sigh, unraveling before his love.

Diluc's head rests on Kaeya's chest. He feels his slow, steady breath and the rhythmic beating of his heart.

Slow. Steady. Not hurried, worried, or panicked... Kaeya is not afraid. He is not on guard.

Something in Diluc's exhausted monkey brain says if Kaeya's not in a state of alarm, then maybe it's okay. That he can relax too, and ease.

"I've got you," Kaeya hums.

It's the most calm Diluc has been in months... That's sad, but so needed right now. /Calm./

Their legs tangle, and Diluc lays on Kaeya, who holds him snug and protected. Who strokes his hair, kisses the top of his head, and covers all open areas that raise alarm.

Diluc's back against the wall, a locked door, snug blankets, and Kaeya's arms acting like a shield.

Safety.

It's safety.

"Thank you," Diluc manages to whisper.

Bit by bit, the tension in his body dissipates. He becomes loose and warm, adored and loved.

Diluc's safe. He relaxes.

And, with a last sigh and "love you," he sleeps.

#fate-threads #fatewrites #genshin impact #kaeluckae #kaeluc #luckae #diluc whump

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bloody-bee-tea · 4 years ago

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Cranky

Jiang Cheng usually prides himself of being able to ignore his phone while he’s at work, but when it lights up with Nie Mingjue’s name on it, Jiang Cheng makes an exception.

His day is going badly enough already that he really desperately wants to hear Nie Mingjue, if even for a little bit.

“Mingjue,” he greets him as he accepts the call.

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue gives back warmly, and just hearing his voice makes some of the tension in Jiang Cheng’s shoulders disappear.

“What’s up?” Jiang Cheng asks. “You don’t usually call me during work.”

“I know,” Nie Mingjue says with a sigh and Jiang Cheng can just imagine the little frown on his face. “But I have to cancel tonight,” he then apologetically says and just like that Jiang Cheng’s good-ish mood plummets again.

“Oh, I see,” he whispers.

They have a weekly thing, where they go for a run first before they watch a movie and if Jiang Cheng is being honest, then he has to admit that it’s the highlight of his week.

And he was looking forward to it, especially today.

“I’m really sorry,” Nie Mingjue tells him. “Some more deliveries at work came up, and I’ll have to make a special route after work to get it all done.”

“I understand,” Jiang Cheng says, because he does.

Nie Mingjue is one of the most hard-working people he knows and sometimes it just can’t be helped.

Jiang Cheng knows that very well, seeing as he himself is prone to working long past official office hours. Usually it’s Nie Mingjue to tell him to relax then, and so Jiang Cheng can’t help but to fall into the same role.

Even though he’s a lot gruffer about it than Nie Mingjue usually is.

“Just see to it that you don’t overwork yourself,” he grumbles out and is met with a light chuckle.

“I knew you cared,” Nie Mingjue teasingly says and Jiang Cheng scoffs.

“Dream on,” Jiang Cheng says immediately. “It’s just that if you overwork yourself, I don’t have a running buddy anymore, and what am I gonna do then.”

“You also won’t have a movie buddy anymore,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng has to admit that he’s right.

Not having a movie buddy might just be worse than not having a running buddy. Jiang Cheng is used to running on his own, and he will be fine if he has to do it again, but going back to watching movies on his own after having Nie Mingjue’s company for so long now, that would be considerably worse.

“So just take care of yourself,” Jiang Cheng snaps, completely on the defence as he realizes that Nie Mingjue knows him maybe a little bit too well and Nie Mingjue chuckles.

“I will give it my best. Same time next week, though?” he asks and Jiang Cheng nods before he can think twice about it.

“Of course,” he grumbles, because when did they ever not meet and he feels insulted that Nie Mingjue even has to ask.

“Thought so,” Nie Mingjue says with a chuckle. “Have a good week.”

“You, too,” Jiang Cheng manages to get out before Nie Mingjue hangs up on him.

They don’t usually text much during the week, apart from their regular confirmation that they are in fact still on for their running and movie meeting and Jiang Cheng is kind of glad about it.

He doesn’t know if he could survive being in constant contact with Nie Mingjue like that; running with him once a week and being overly aware of the fact that Nie Mingjue will be naked in the shower and then having to sit close to him on the couch is already enough of a strain on Jiang Cheng’s already fraying self-control.

When Jiang Cheng puts down the phone he lets out a deep sigh. He can’t say that he’s too sad about cancelling today, if he’s being honest. Work today has been shit so far and while he was looking forward to running and getting his aggressions out that way, he would much rather put on his sleeping clothes and curl up under a blanket to mindlessly watch a show or something instead of watching a whole movie.

And now he can do just that when he comes home.

It’s the only thought that gets him through the rest of the day if Jiang Cheng is being honest and when he finally makes his way home he feels weary and tired to the bone.

He still manages to drag himself under the shower but the tension only starts to seep out of his shoulders when he puts on his sleeping clothes—a frayed t-shirt and baggy sweatpants—and he curls up on the couch.

There’s a tiny part of himself that wishes Nie Mingjue were here right now, if only so Jiang Cheng doesn’t give into his self-pity for today, but if Nie Mingjue were here, he wouldn’t get to curl up like this, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be in his sleeping clothes yet, so Jiang Cheng is rather torn on the issue.

He can at least admit that his day seems off somehow, now that Nie Mingjue is not going to come over, but instead of dwelling too much on that, Jiang Cheng gets up to get some ice cream for himself.

It’s one of those days, and he intends to wallow in it.

Jiang Cheng just stuffed his mouth full of ice cream when someone knocks on his door.

Jiang Cheng freezes, totally caught off guard, and he has half a mind to simply pretend that he’s not home, when it knocks again. And again and again.

Jiang Cheng groans as he peels himself out of his blanket, looking mournfully at his ice cream before he puts it down on the table and then he makes his way over to the door.

“Cut it out already,” he seethes as he yanks open the door—already angry at whoever it is on the other side—only to freeze when he comes face to face with Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue musters his face, before he very deliberately lets his eyes wander up and down Jiang Cheng’s form and Jiang Cheng would love nothing more than to disappear right that moment.

“I see you started without me,” Nie Mingjue says with a smile and Jiang Cheng fights the stupid urge to hide behind something and instead plasters a frown to his face. “And you’re cranky.”

“You said you couldn’t make it,” he snaps out, completely caught off guard and Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“Zonghui thinks I’m doing too much and I shouldn’t sacrifice one of the few evenings a month I take for myself so he took all the deliveries and told me to go home.”

“How nice of him,” Jiang Cheng hears himself say—because it is really nice of Nie Zonghui to do that—but he cannot deal with the fact that Nie Mingjue sees him in his ratty clothes.

Jiang Cheng is so much less put together than he likes to be; he’s wearing his oldest clothes, his hair is a half dried mess, and with Jiang Cheng’s luck there’s a chocolate smear on his cheek from the ice cream, he just knows it.

“Wait,” Jiang Cheng blurts out when Nie Mingjue’s words finally make it into his brain. “You decide to spend your evenings off with me,” he whispers out, suddenly horrified at himself that he takes up so much of Nie Mingjue’s time.

“Yes?” Nie Mingjue asks, clearly unsure what has Jiang Cheng in such a panic.

“You should do something you want on those evenings!”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue immediately gives back and there’s so little hesitation in his voice that Jiang Cheng has no other choice but to believe him. “I want to spend them with you. Always,” Nie Mingjue tacks on rather awkwardly and Jiang Cheng goes bright red in the face, he can feel it burning.

“What do you want?” Nie Mingjue asks after a long moment in which Jiang Cheng can do nothing but stare at him.

“For this evening?” Jiang Cheng asks, because he can’t think clearly and surely Nie Mingjue isn’t implying what Jiang Cheng thinks he’s implying because that would mean he chooses very deliberately to see Jiang Cheng once a week even though he doesn’t have much time otherwise.

A very hysterical part of Jiang Cheng points out that maybe he should have thought about that earlier, but Jiang Cheng is in too much panic to listen to it.

“In general,” Nie Mingjue says with a shrug and Jiang Cheng blinks at him.

“For you to not judge me for this,” he finally says with a vague hand gesture at all of himself, because Jiang Cheng knows for a fact that even on the weekends Nie Mingjue takes off he is definitely more put together than Jiang Cheng is in that moment.

“I would never,” Nie Mingjue immediately tells him and then smiles at him, which makes Jiang Cheng’s pulse skyrocket. “I actually find it rather adorable,” Nie Mingjue then says mischievously and Jiang Cheng feels like his brain is shutting down.

“Shut up,” he weakly says but Nie Mingjue doesn’t seem particularly fazed by that.

“I don’t think I will, actually,” Nie Mingjue says. “It makes you look very soft.”

Jiang Cheng blinks at him a few times because Nie Mingjue’s words don’t make any sense. There is no way in hell Nie Mingjue has any other feelings for him than some misplaced older brother protectiveness, Jiang Cheng is sure of that.

At least he had been until now.

“What do you want?” he asks again, though his voice comes out weak and breathy and Nie Mingjue’s face goes very soft.

Nie Mingjue reaches out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind Jiang Cheng’s ear and when Nie Mingjue cups Jiang Cheng’s face in his big palm a shudder runs down Jiang Cheng’s back.

“I want to make you understand how loved you are,” Nie Mingjue whispers, matching his tone to Jiang Cheng’s and that does nothing to explain to Jiang Cheng just what he means with that. “If you would let me,” Nie Mingjue tacks on when Jiang Cheng stands frozen like a statue and then he exerts the faintest of pressure on Jiang Cheng’s cheek; just enough to pull him a little bit forwards.

Jiang Cheng is helpless to stop the movement, and he’s very sure he doesn’t actually want to stop anything that is happening right now and so he allows Nie Mingjue to guide him further and further towards Nie Mingjue’s broad chest.

“Will you let me?” Nie Mingjue asks, his breath ghosting over Jiang Cheng’s lips and Jiang Cheng isn’t sure he could find his voice if his life depended on it, so he simply leans forwards and closes the last tiny bit of distance between them.

Jiang Cheng isn’t sure if he ever had a more perfect first kiss, but he guesses the answer to that is no. His eyes drifted shut on their own accord and his hands find a place at the front of Nie Mingjue’s shirt, urging him closer.

Nie Mingjue keeps his one hand on Jiang Cheng’s cheek, but the other one migrates to the small of Jiang Cheng’s back and it’s so hot and so comfortingly heavy that Jiang Cheng has to bite back a groan at that.

“I can’t believe you just made us do that in the doorway,” Jiang Cheng complaints when they finally part, because he’s stupid and his brain doesn’t work right, but Nie Mingjue only chuckles.

Jiang Cheng can feel it in his own chest, they are standing so close, and he thinks he might never want to move ever again.

“You wouldn’t invite me in. I had to make do with what I had,” Nie Mingjue easily gives back and then presses another fleeting kiss to the corner of Jiang Cheng’s mouth. “But I wouldn’t complain if you were to invite me in.”

“Of course you’re going to come in,” Jiang Cheng bites out and uses his hands which are still fisted into the front of Nie Mingjue’s shirt to pull him inside the apartment.

Once the door is closed behind them some nerves creep back in and Jiang Cheng awkwardly disentangles his hands from Nie Mingjue’s shirt.

“What do you want now?” Jiang Cheng asks and curses himself when he realizes that it came out completely wrong. He wanted to ask what Nie Mingjue wanted to do now, but not this.

“Are you saying you’re feeling loved yet?” Nie Mingjue says questioningly as he tilts his head in the single most adorable movement Jiang Cheng has ever seen.

“Not sure, actually,” Jiang Cheng shoots back, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Again, Nie Mingjue’s face goes very soft and he tucks Jiang Cheng closer with a hand on his hip.

“I love you,” Nie Mingjue breathes out, peppering Jiang Cheng’s face with soft, fleeting butterfly kisses. “I love you very much,” he makes his point with a more passionate kiss this time and Jiang Cheng hums into it.

“I see,” he mutters, their lips still brushing against each other. “I feel loved,” Jiang Cheng then decides with a small nod. “And I love you, too,” he then says, because he didn’t yet and Nie Mingjue needs to know that.

“So I can move on to something else then,” Nie Mingjue muses and noses Jiang Cheng’s cheek, which totally doesn’t make Jiang Cheng’s knees go weak.

“Do you want anything else?” Jiang Cheng asks confidently, though he’s keeping upright more by clutching at Nie Mingjue’s shoulders than anything else.

“I want to make you happy,” Nie Mingjue says after a moment of deliberation and Jiang Cheng immediately shakes his head.

“You’ll have to pick something else,” he tells Nie Mingjue who frowns at him, clearly unhappy with Jiang Cheng’s answer.

Jiang Cheng huffs out a little laugh and cups Nie Mingjue’s cheek in his hand.

“You already make me very happy,” he then tells him and watches as Nie Mingjue’s face lights up with his smile.

“I see,” Nie Mingjue mutters. “Then I want to keep you happy,” he immediately decides and Jiang Cheng swears he’s just doing that to kill him.

This is way too adorable.

“Stop that,” Jiang Cheng complaints, though it’s half-hearted at best and Nie Mingjue seems to know it too, because he doesn’t seem inclined to follow Jiang Cheng’s words.

“What do you want?” Nie Mingjue eventually asks him, and Jiang Cheng has to take a moment to find his words again.

“I want to continue this on the couch,” he finally decides and Nie Mingjue lets out a loud and happy laugh.

“Anything to keep you happy,” he decides and simply picks Jiang Cheng up, before he carries him over to the living-room.

Jiang Cheng yelps when his feet leave the ground, but Nie Mingjue’s grip on him is sure and strong and so instead of struggling Jiang Cheng slings his arms around Nie Mingjue’s shoulders and simply holds on.

It’s not long before Nie Mingjue sits down on the couch, Jiang Cheng now firmly in his lap and Jiang Cheng immediately leans up to get back to kissing. Nie Mingjue is quick to indulge him and Jiang Cheng already knows that this will be one of his favourite things to do.

By the time they remember the ice cream on the table it has long turned into soup, and so they refreeze it on their way to the bedroom.

It is still tasty when they have it for breakfast the next morning.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #the untamed #mdzs #mingcheng #modern au #getting together #flirting #first kiss #humor #fluff

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lifenodaijobu · 4 years ago

Text

Just a little list of my soft Draco obsession

For @vemodalensx

Theres a few here but I’ve left some out since the list was getting a bit long. I might make another list with more.

The list separated between cute Draco and vulnerable Draco just so you can choose whether or not you want a bit of sadness with your softness ^3^

Oh and ofc it goes without saying that the whole list is Bottom Draco hehe

Cute Soft Draco

Flower Crowns (2.4k words)

It started with a single flower 🥀 Draco makes flower crowns for Harry and that is how the whole school finds out about them. A happy dose of Harry with flowers in his hair, and a smitten Draco.

Dreaming of you (21k words)

Harry has nightmares, he wishes for a night when he can sleep without nightmares. What happens when he starts dreaming of Draco Malfoy? Draco left the wizarding world after the war, he's a librarian and lives peacefully in muggle London, what happens when Harry fucking Potter shows up at his work place?

Honey (

Harry is sick of Draco's oh-so-adorable endearments.

The Care and Management of Volatile Veelas

Harry adopts a Veela. He really didn’t mean to.

Quidditch Wife (Part 2)

Theres no real summary for this except for It's got all my favourite guilty pleasures, like protective!Harry and vulnerable!Draco, with a side of jealous!Harry and SportyQuidditch!Harry (and I think the top!Harry rather goes without saying).

All our pieces....fall right into places series

The first story: Draco had had a crush for a while and now that he had Harry in his bed...He was everything that Draco needed.

Trick or Treat

Harry had no idea that he was such a fetishist - a fact which he discovers on Halloween.

Pretty

Harry finds a pair of stockings in the back of their dresser.

The Sweater

After being forced to room together in 8th year, Draco and Harry become friends and decide to continue their living arrangements post Hogwarts. The only problem is, Draco can't seem to stop stealing Harry's clothes.

1095 Roses for a life time

Being woken up by the lips of your boyfriend is always a nice surprise, especially on the morning of yours third anniversary of dating, which leads to hot and passionate morning activity. But all this is just to indulge in themselves, Harry's surprise includes roses and a promise for a lifetime. Will they be the right choice?

Get your kinks out

Harry plays seeker for the Magpies, and he discovers that one of his teammates secretly wears lace panties. What begins as a sexual relationship becomes increasingly complicated by Harry’s fame, Draco’s family, and Harry’s ambivalent feelings about dominating Draco.

Can’t say no

Draco really has the worst friends. When they put a spell on him that he has to say no to everything Harry says.....things don't turn out well.

That time when Harry proposes and gets turned down because of his horrible friends.

What Draco wants

Out of anything a petty fight with Harry Potter could have led to, Draco Malfoy least expected it to end with him bent over a table, questioning his relationship and feelings for Potter, and having the best sex of his life.

Criminal

Things were going just fine for Draco Malfoy. He successfully conned and counted cards across Europe and America, amassing a small fortune, along with a lengthy rap sheet. That was until he made the grave mistake of returning to England for a high stakes card game and got himself caught – by Harry Potter no less. Now, Draco is stuck in England under Auror Potter’s guard with no friends, no distractions, and no escape. How the hell will he pass the time? And since when did Potter get so bloody fit?

Things Change

Harry and Draco's friends notice something different about them when they fight. See what they find out when they walk down an empty hallway.

Whats a little veritasium between two sworn enemies?

Draco Malfoy has a nasty habit of always coming across such bad luck no matter where circumstance presents itself and unfortunately that doesn't seem to change when his bloody nemesis Harry Potter over hears him talking about Veritaserum potions in the hallways past curfew. ( It was Pansy fault really)

Harry wants to know what the Slytherin boy is up to, especially with how nervous Malfoy is, but is that ALL Harry wants to know?

Mr Right Now - side note: Cedric/Draco

What do you do when you're feeling down about your ex? Make him jealous! Story features Cedric Diggory and Draco Malfoy trying to win back their loves, but somehow end up falling into each other's arms

For the love a kitten

With Voldemort Dead, life is not easy for Harry as Old friends become enemies and old enemies become friend. With the return of three Slytherins, Harry life is turned upside down.

How to prepare for a wedding night

I have a neighbour. He is stuck in a loveless relationship and an arranged marriage. He has zero experience in bed. He needs my help so that his love life won't suck for the next few decades. He needs a sex teacher. Oh... and the neighbour happens to be Draco freaking Malfoy. And I might be a little tiny bit in love with the git...

Draco's Scent

In which Harry can't be around Draco for long without the boy's stupid smell messing with his mind, and he really, really hates that.

Turn The Heat Up

Wonky Cooling Charms result in interesting revelations

Flirt

Draco and Hermione make a devastating duo at the Ministry as the respective Department Heads of Wizarding Culture Preservation and Muggle Relations. When Harry Potter gets involved in their latest joint project, Draco can’t seem to stop himself from constantly flirting with him even when it doesn’t seem to affect the golden boy at all. He’s wrong. Harry is most definitely affected. Includes Slytherin shenanigans, Draco sucking at quidditch, and Harry trying not to be charmed. Draco POV.

Angsty/Vulnerable Soft Draco

The Draco Malfoy incident - side note: I cried big time

Draco Malfoy is best friends with a Hufflepuff. A HUFFLEPUFF! He's also partnered with a redhead git, trying to hide from an obsessive green-eyed saviour and has become overly fond with sunrises. It's exhausting. Can't a man plan an assassination in peace around here?

I’m not in your dreams

Draco has dreamt with Harry's voice since he was fourteen, so there's no doubt for him about who his soulmate is. Now, in their Eighth Year, Harry has finally dreamt with his soulmate's voice too. The problem is that Draco was born mute.

Yours for the taking

Draco was raised to be the perfect Omega, but there are things even he cannot endure. When he discovers just what Tom Riddle's plans for him are once he's claimed him he is confronted with an impossible decision. Only one thing remains clear: he will never be able to go back home.

Luckily, Harry Potter is there to save the day

Rough on you - side note: Dark Harry. This is more vulnerable Draco than soft Draco so please read the tags before you start the story :) I was unsure whether I wanted to add this here but hey-ho

"I'm the only one that can give you want you really want." Harry spun Draco around and held his arms at his side and he pressed against his back, whispering against his throat. "That can force you, that can humiliate you… that can hurt you, and you want it. You want me."

Harry is having a bad day. Draco just cannot learn to keep his mouth shut. Neither of them would have predicted it would lead to this.

But who guards the dragon?

This is an expansion of my one-shot, It'll be Okay. You don't have to read it first, it will be in the story. Requested. DMHP Sub/Dom relationship. Slash. Don't like, don't read. Harry thinks a few thinks through, then comes into his creature inheritance. He finds out that he is the dominant mate to one Draco Malfoy. But things are never easy for the boy who lived

Taken For Granted

Having pined for Harry for long enough, Draco decided that it was time to give up and move on. What happens when Harry realizes too late what he's lost?

Mourning

Harry returns to school to complete his NEWTs. There he finds a much changed Draco Malfoy and surprisingly subdued Professor Snape.

In your arms, rests my world

Harry presses his mouth to Malfoy's forehead; he wants to tell him that he’ll never leave, that he wouldn’t dream of it.

“You make me feel safe, Potter” Malfoy whispers. “You keep me safe.”

Inside your mind

Goyle's taken it upon himself to act as Malfoy's personal, one-man guard and Harry can't help but feel like it's only making the bullying worse.

"I'll Protect You," and you can seal that with an Unbreakable Vow

His friends may tease but Harry doesn't feel bad for keeping a close eye on the Slytherin boy of one Draco Malfoy, after all someone has to do it. So when Harry secretly follows the pure-blood boy out past the courtyard, there's nothing strange or unusual about it; nor is it wrong.

Unfortunately the same can not be said for the scenario Harry accidentally stumbles upon as he can't help but stare in horror. It's not just wrong. It's absolutely despicable and Harry, well, Harry just has to do something about it.

A Big Black Sky

Draco shifts his head as he turns to look at Scorpius, his cheek touching the pillow. "Did you know that…" He pauses, his throat convulsing, and it sounds audible in the silence, besides Michael's steady, even breathing from the other bedroom.

Scorpius is staring back at him, in wait of something new to learn, a beautiful and intelligent child. He has Draco's mind. He has Draco's eyes and nose and mouth and hair. He is his. All his. All he has of Michael are his wild curls and the green of his eyes, and sometimes he looks into them and imagines that they aren't Michael's, but someone else's.

Draco leans his head closer, biting the quiver out of his lips before he breathes a laden and shuddering exhale, and he whispers, "You are my star in a big black sky."

Song To Say Goodbye

Draco should have remembered that life doesn’t always turn out the way you want it to. Somewhere along the way he forgot to always be careful and was left with nothing. It was hard enough getting himself together the first time, can he do it again?

Small spoiler for Song to Say Goodbye below

Its not Drarry Endgame: he ends up with a OMC cuz Harrys a big dickhead

#soft draco #cute draco #vulnerable draco #draco malfoy #harry potter #bottom draco #drarry #fic rec #drarry fic rec

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arcadejohn127-9 · 4 years ago

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Here me out, A Child AU of the brothers, with a Loving and Protective Older Brother MC. This MC would basically always be there for the brothers, helping them manage their “sins” (which are just childish flaws in this AU) and spoiling them.

MC gives them all the much needed affection and stability their absent parents (Can’t escape the daddy issues) deprived them from, and makes sure to create free-time for the boys so they can explore their hobbies, play with each other (And their beloved Older Brother, and just be kids in general.

Perhaps MC & the brothers parents are the CEO’s of multiple different worldwide company’s and don’t have time/don’t really care for them? And so they just have MC and the boys in a random mansion with maids/servants to manage the house and “care” for them, leaving MC to step up as the guardian for these boys despite being their older brother. (I imagine that the servants/other staff don’t do much in terms of anything personal, and only do stuff like clean the house, cook, give them distant lessons, stiffly help the boys get dressed if they need assistance, etc.)

In other words the boys would be screwed emotionally if Older Brother MC wasn’t there to make sure they were actually thriving and getting to act like kids.

However, this MC is also the only parental figure in these boys lives, and as such this MC gets very exhausted because at the end of the day they are taking care of 7 children who rely on him, so maybe you could write some good old hurt/comfort in the end to really to really pull it all together?

I really love this ask, y'all be sending me the best sibling prompts and I'm over here, having no idea wtf a proper sibling relationship is 😂 please keep them coming

I absolutely adore this prompt!

Warning: neglectful parents, hurt with comfort, long, angst

You jogged down the stairs, eyes darting around to find the least busiest servant. You started to loose hope until you spotted a maid carrying a laundry basket. You quickly rushed over to her.

"Are they home today? I have a party I was invited to and I was hoping they'd look after the kids."

"I'm sorry, master (Y/N) but your parents aren't home today and I'm afraid they won't be in until next Wednesday, we can always look after them-"

You tried to hide your disdain; the servants were helpful but they just did what was needed, they didn't bother with the emotional side of caring for your little brothers. Most of them being toddler's still, the youngest were just babies! They needed emotional care!

"thank you but I'll just do it myself."

The maid didn't say anything else, going on with her task. You entered the living room where you knew your brother's were. You found another servant watching them, bouncing Satan whilst he screamed and wailed.

Lucifer was glaring at the servant whilst he held Beezlebub's hands, stopping the little guy from chewing on his hand. Mammon was holding a sleeping belphegor. Asmodeus was padding at the servant, wanting his little brother but the servant just ignored him. Levithan was the first to notice you; he gripped the game controller he was playing with, waddling quickly over to you.

"I'll take it from here." You stated, causing all your brother's to turn to you.

The servant let out a sigh of relief, handing you Satan harshly. "I'll be back for my duties later."

Satan grabbed onto your shirt, sniffling and let out small noises of anger before finally settling down. You gently bounced him, kissing his little cat eared hat.

"did I take too long? I know they're not very nice to you, I'm sorry."

You knelt down, your brother's all coming to greet you. You gave each one an exaggerated kiss on the forehead. Asmo tugged at your sleeve, pouting.

"They wouldn't let me hold Satan, gimme."

You chuckled, letting asmo cradle his baby brother. Lucifer was fuming; evident from how he crossed his arms, an ugly angry face present on him.

"They're useless." Lucifer was the eldest out of your younger brother's, he was always protective of them and insulted by the servants lack of care.

Mammon crawled into your lap, belphie giving you grabby hands as he finally woke up. You gave him your finger; he happily grabbed it and held it close to his face.

"They're not useless, they just don't get the kind of care you need."

Lucifer just huffed. Tugging little Satan's hands off his brother's hair, poor asmo trying to to move too much. You knew you could always count on Lucifer to help you; afterall you were looking after 7 brothers.

Beel was gumming Levi's controller much to his distress. You quickly put the chew necklace in your little brothers mouth, The ginger happily going for it while the third eldest protectively clutched his controller.

suddenly, your phone rang. You answered the call, not even checking who it was.

"(Y/N), It's Michael, I'm here to speak on behalf of your father."

"Huh? He can't call me himself?" You raised a brow, adjusting your seat as you kept the phone close to your ear.

"Not right now, he's busy in his latest meeting - I'm sure you've been told that they won't be coming back until next Wednesday but there seems to be some issues and their stay will be extended."

"what's mom doing? Is she busy aswell?"

"she's staying in the hotel, her bussiness is done for now."

You grit your teeth, turning your head away from your brother's eyes. You could feel them watch you with their curious big eyes. But you refused to let them see you mad; though that didn't stop your mouth from moving without much thought.

"Michael, can you tell her to get her damn as- butt back home and stop using dad's trip as a vocation! She's got kids to look after-!"

"my apologies, I'll tell her you request her presence but I cannot promise-"

Your buzzed aggressively, you checked to see who it was and it was another student from the university you went to. Well- you went to it through online school as your brother's took top priority.

"I get it, I need to go, I have another call."

He couldn't even say goodbye, you swapped the call. It ended your call with Michael automatically.

"hello? What's up?"

"(Y/N) you coming tonight? I was telling people you were coming so you better come."

"I can't- my parents aren't home so I have to look after my brother's." You sighed, your mood deflating.

"don't you have like maids or something? Just let them do it! You're always looking after your brother's, just come over!"

"you know I can't! The servants don't give them the emotional attention they need, they're still young and growing! I can't just let them be treated like that-"

"uggh!!! You're always like this, I shouldn't of invited you, Everyone knows you're just some bore with no life, I thought you could actually prove people wrong."

You wanted to chew them out but you could see your brothers upset faces in the corner of your eye. you hung up, turning to comfort them but they caught you off guard.

"you go! We'll be good for the maids! I swear, I won't make (Y/N) upset!" Mammon cried out, clutching his little brother.

"I'll watch over them, go have fun." Lucifer chimed in, adjusting his hold on Satan.

You shook your head. Internally yelling at your peer for being so loud. "I'm fine being right here, you guys are more important than any party."

Asmo furiously shook his head. "No!! Parties are cool and you're cool! Go!"

"Parties aren't all that, I've seen enough of them in movies."

You've been one to one. Looking after your brother's took full time once you were old enough but you didn't need to do things like that. You could easily dance around in a room with music and snacks. You definitely didn't need to do that - it was just some experience people did for fun. You're fun! You can have your own fun!

You had a life and was the most interesting person ever. Totally. Definitely. 100%! It wasn't like you were actually looking forward to it and really wanted to meet your peers in person for once....actually make friends and let yourself be you for once.....

Chubby hands squished your cheeks. You looked up to see baby Beel was holding up his chew necklace; wanting you to chew on it. It was his favourite, belphie picked it out for him and he's been keeping close to his chest since. Belphie was the one squishing your cheeks, trying to get your attention.

"how did your face get wet..?"

That's when it hit you. You were crying. You hastily wiped them away, forcing a big smile.

"I'm fine! See!"

Suddenly, a controller smacked you in the forehead. You yelped. Levi was frowning, his little hands for clenching and unclenching.

"THEY'RE JUST NORMIES!!! YOU'RE TOO COOL TO CRY OVER THEM!"

You gasped, not expecting him to act out like this. You were so use to his timid and shut off nature you weren't sure he could even raise his voice like that. Satan stirred away, confused on why his brother was yelling.

You didn't expect that to hit you so hard. You bawled out into fat tears, hugging mammon, Belphie and Beel. It wasn't long for the rest of the brothers to come to your side, hugging you as you cried. You hurriedly hugged them all, kissing each of their chubby cheeks.

Asmo, mammon and levi were all crying with you. Each of them returning a kiss to your cheeks. You always kissed their cheeks or forhead to make them happy. To have them do the same to you made your heart soften.

"I'm so happy you're all my brother's....thank you."

#obey me #obey me shall we date #gamingclubpresident #aracadejohn217 9 #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me luficer #obey me imagine #obey me headcanon #obey me demon brothers #demon brother's #obey me au

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rivers-rambles21 · 4 years ago

Text

The one with the road trip

Part 15 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Warnings | 18+ only - no smut but mentions of it

Apologies for any mistakes, this has been written on my phone and its a bit difficult to edit. Once I’m back with a working laptop I’ll give it a once over :)

Bucky had intended on renting a bike so you could ride down to Louisiana but with Sam’s suit it would’ve been an impossible feat.

He settled for hiring an SUV and added you both to the insurance so you could take it in turns driving on the long trip down south.

“Been together one day and we’re already on our first trip” You teased as you rested your feet on the dash, taking in the scenery as Bucky drove. His metal hand gripped the steering wheel as he peaked a glance over to your bare legs, resisting the urge to pull over.

“You’re the one having a mid life crisis doll not me” You feigned offense and swatted the soldier beside you, pleased to get a hit in as he tried to dodge your attack. His eyes remained on the road as he grasped your hand in his. “Less of that thank you” He laughed, bringing your hand to his lips, leaving a kiss on the back before giving it back to rest on your thigh, his hand not leaving yours.

“Looking forward to seeing Sam again?” He didn’t respond but his face said it all. “You’re so dramatic” You chuckled as you leant down to root around in your bag for the road trip snacks. Retrieving a bag of cashews, you offered it to Bucky who gladly took a handful.

“I just know he’s going to ask a billion questions about stuff we’ve not even discussed yet, that we’re probably not even ready to talk about. He didn’t stop asking about you y’know? Y/n this, Y/n that…he kept threatening to ask you out.”

“Oh he did”

The car swerved slightly as Bucky's grip on the wheel tightened, his concentration lapsing for a split second.

“He did what?” He asked, tearing his eyes from the road to glance over at you.

“It was just a bit of harmless flirting-” You began before being cut off.

“We flirted.” Bucky stated, his jaw clenching.

“We also did a lot of things just friends don’t do. Relax Sarge, he only asked to get a reaction out of me.”

Bucky grunted in response, knowing his reaction was a tad over the top but he couldn’t help it. You were his.

“We could always mess with him in return.” You pondered as you took a swig of your drink. “Maybe hold off on telling him about us, it’s only meant to be a flying visit anyway isn’t it? So we wouldn’t have to pretend for long… play him at his own game?”

Bucky smirked in response, completely on board with your little plan.

The next few hours passed with the typical car games and a quick power nap as Bucky continued driving.

“How long until you start at Starks?”

“A month thank god, the GRC wanted me gone pretty quickly, I didn't have to work my notice which was a blessing really. I’ll schedule a day to go and clear out my desk and say my goodbyes. Will you still get your pension if we live out of the country?”

“I’m not sure to be honest, I can pick up work wherever we are though, it wouldn’t be the first time. I’m good with my hands”

“You’re telling me” You muttered under your breath. Bucky heard you loud and clear and let out a laugh as he recalled how you spent most of last night. “Are we crazy? Travelling with no plan, barely any money and only just starting out as a couple?”

“Oh absolutely”

Eventually Bucky took a break from driving after you stopped for food in a roadside diner. It had been a while since you’d driven but you wanted to give Bucky the chance to get some sleep, something you knew he still struggled with.

Despite telling him to try and get some sleep on the back seats, he remained upfront with you, doing his best to battle the drowsiness that had overcome him. He’d not gotten much rest the past few weeks, from battling the Flag Smashers in Europe, to hunting down Zemo and then back to New York. In truth he was worried he’d have a nightmare and wasn’t sure on how he’d react but upon your insistence, he tried to get some shut eye. After an hour or so he dropped off, the sound of you humming along to a song on the radio sending him off into a dreamless sleep.

Bucky couldn’t quite believe it, he couldn’t remember the last time he slept without being haunted by memories of the Winter Soldier. Granted, he only got four hours of sleep , but it was the best he’d felt in a long time.

When it came to your turn to get some shut eye Bucky insisted on stopping over in a hotel for the night. You’d tried to convince him a motel would suffice after you lost the battle of you sleeping in the car but he was victorious.

To be frank, after spending so many hours in the car, you were grateful to be sleeping in a bed with your super soldier by your side.

As you slept, Bucky took the time to fire off a few emails advising he’d be ending his lease. Having slept earlier, he felt energised and was content in browsing the internet as you slept tucked into his arm.

He did his best not to wake you as he opened a selfie from Shuri of her with Ayo and Nomble, a chuckle escaping his lips as Shuri and Nomble looked to be thoroughly enjoying themselves on a boat trip in New York whilst Ayo sulked in the background.

He also replied to an email from his therapist's office, letting them know he’d be absent from his next session but planned on returning the following week.

Bucky was tempted to let Sam know he was coming but thought it best to surprise him.

The next day was much of the same, both of you switching the drive and stopping off at diners for food. Due to the lack of respect Bucky had for the speed limit, you were making good time and would be in Delacroix the following morning.

“-it was like I didn’t exist. Honestly it was the most humbling experience of my life”

“Sergeant Barnes in his uniform… now that is something I’ve got to see.”

“Maybe one day”

Your eyebrow perked at the thought. “Good god man” You groaned dramatically and sank further into your seat, giggling as you caught sight of the blush covering his cheeks. “For what it’s worth, lack of nutrients from the rationing clearly messed with her eyesight.” You were genuinely baffled how Peggy didn’t swoon for the man next to you.

“Where were you in the 40’s when I needed you huh?”

“I doubt I’d have been your type”

“Intelligent, strong woman with a great sense of humor? And thats not even mentioning your ass.. Oh no, definitely not my type” He replied sarcastically.

“Ha ha fine, I’ll take your word for it.”

“I’d have taken you dancing, maybe gone to a show or even the carnival. Anything you wanted.” He took your hand in his again and kissed the back of it as he pondered just how he’d of won you over back then. He usually didn't like to dwell on life before the war, the pain of losing his family and the future he lost was too much but having you in his life somehow made the memories hurt less. Having you with him now along with the future he could picture with you helped him make peace with his past life and accept that it wasn’t something he could ever go back to.

When Steve was returning the stones, he did wonder whether he should go back with him but the realisation that there wasn’t anything waiting for him apart from a time that he didn't belong to made his decision to remain in the present resolute. And by god was he thankful he stayed.

On your way to your final hotel before arriving at Sams, you’d taken over the driving and had kept Bucky entertained with your off key singing and terrible car games.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” As it turns out, Bucky was a sore loser.

“What? It counts!!”

“You cannot see bacteria Y/N”

“Yes I can! It’s right...right… right there!” You pointed to a random bit of the car interior and held back a laugh at a clearly unamused Bucky.

“You’re so full of shit”

“How do you know I can’t see it huh? Guess it’s my turn again, I spy with my little -”

“No” He cut off as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Absolutely not. I’m going to choose a game.”

You let out a little smile and continued focusing on the road until the super soldier landed on something he liked.

“Okay okay, would you rather sounds fun. Doll, would you rather have the superpower of being invisible or ability to fly.”

“Aw come on Buck these are tame! If I have to answer, without a doubt invisibility.”

“Not dirty enough for you sweetheart?” A tingle rang down your spine at your new nickname. “I’d have to agree, invisibility easily.”

“Buck you’re an actual superhero, you’ve already got powers, leave some for us mere mortals!”

“... you think I’m a superhero?”

“....you’re literally an Avenger.” You reached across towards the man beside you, keeping your eyes on the road as you pressed your hand against his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

Bucky rolled his eyes at your sarcasm and swatted your hand away from his head. “Fine you made your point.”

You shook your head as you returned your hand to the steering wheel, tapping away to the song on the radio.

“The rest of these questions are boring” He muttered as he furiously scrolled through his cell.

“C’mon, go R rated”

“It’s no fun when I already know the answers to these!”

“Pfft doubtful, come on, hit me”

“Spit or swallow, you’re a swallower doll.See?”

“Okay okay! You’re right, I give in. How about we just ask each other some questions?”

“But you already know everything,” He remarked, throwing a few cashews into his mouth.

“When did you first see me as someone other than a friend?” You’d thrown him off guard with that question, his hand stuck in mid air as he went to throw more snacks into his mouth.

“Wouldn't you rather know my most embarrassing sexual encounters?” He offered but was met with silence. “Fine……. I’ve never seen you as just a friend. Yes we were friends before we became more and honestly Y/n if it never progressed further than just friendship I would’ve been fine with it, more than fine with it y’know? Meeting you was the best fucking thing-” “Buck, it’s okay” Your hand reached out towards him and squeezed his thigh as you kept your eyes on the road.

“There’s more… before we officially met in the lobby when that creep wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone, I’d seen you around. I was coming back from lunch with Yori and he was complaining about having gone for burgers instead of our usual and there you were, headphones in completely oblivious to the world and searching for your keys in your purse as usual. You were just so carefree - everything I wanted to be. And then a couple of days later we met and I was a goner.”

You bit your lip as you fought back a smile, overwhelmed by his honesty. It was a welcome feeling, knowing you weren’t the only one that felt an attraction almost immediately.

“I’d seen you around too, before we officially met I mean. It’s kind of hard to miss you” You chuckled as you snuck a glimpse over at him and found him doing his usual glare. “It was pretty early on for me as well, do you remember when we went for coffee?”

“And you ordered us two cups of sugar? Yeah I remember”

“Mocha Latte’s aren’t bad for you… they just give you a bit of a buzz”

“Especially if you order extra cream…”

“Anyway! I’ve always been attracted to you, I’m not blind y’know but after seeing this dark looming strong man consume a drink like that, and have some residue cream left on his lower lip mind you, I just knew that it was more than just a crush. There’s something oddly charming and attractive about seeing someone so intimidating be so soft. It’s like I’m the only one who gets to see that side of you and I love it”

Bucky didn't quite know what to say, he was slightly flustered at the compliments you were throwing at him and by the knowledge that you’d been interested far earlier than he had ever dreamed of.

“We’re idiots aren’t we? For not realising sooner.”

“Oh without a doubt”

Tag list:

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#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #tfatws #ao3 #fic #bucky fic #bucky fluff

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years ago

Text

Freak (One Shot)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Warnings: your writer being a dick about the otp

Word Count: this is the first time that I had to remind a therapist about a session. Usually it was me who would forget about sessions or even booking sessions. But that was also because I was scared. Now I know that in order to get better I need to make a few changes with my way of thinking. Bonus? I did not cry during this PMS cycle.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"...in summary, you touch any of my playthings, you will have to deal with the consequences." Kruge wants to pierce those eyeballs out but he has to stop himself in case he is taken a prisoner for harming the new king of Jotunheim on the very first night. "Understood, your grace," Helbindi gives a little bow and waits for Loki to open the door to his chamber before he lets his fangs out in pure animosity for the God.

Loki makes sure to close the door behind him before he closes his eyes and rests his head on the silver frame with a thud. At least he won't have to keep up the facade of being composed all the time in this room. Did I make the right decision? His thoughts are running at a speed that would be considered normal for Pietro. This is the last place Aellae would invade. He inhales a lungful, his mind addressing a hint of lilac in the cold air. That is if she hadn't already done that. And all the fingers are pointing at Helbindi. I am sure Helbindi has something to d-wait...Lilac?

Those computing brows are suddenly furrowing in curiosity while those eyes open to dart around the room in question. At the other end of this immaculate and massive bedroom, you walk out from the direction of the bath, your wet hair a beautiful mess, your skin glowing in the faint light reflecting off the shining frost, your dark blue pyjama shorts showing off those legs that seemed to have toned a little, thanks to the workout this deadly trip has provided. Out of nowhere, winds are blowing into the bedroom from the balcony to bring Loki more of that lilac scent you are covered in right now. Those teasing soft punches of air are doing their best to tickle your exposed skin while teasing the God with a little bit of peek of some more. He does not realise it but Loki's eyes are stuck on you, his throat trying to gulp down whatever is frozen in there, just not ready to digest the poetry unfolding in front of him. Normally he would have scolded you for putting your used towel on that chair, but right now all his brain can comprehend is you raising your leg on his bed to apply some lotion on it. Your head turns in his direction and he is suddenly finding himself running into the sole vase on his right side. He is Loki- the God of mischief- so, of course, it does not take much time to bring that vibrating vase to a standstill. But he still keeps holding for another moment or two, for the fear that it might move again. Any third person witnessing this can tell it is not exactly the vase he is trying to still. "This painting is nice," he murmurs to himself while looking at a pictureless frame decorating the wall to his side, pointing to it and pretending to appreciate it. His hands, though, cannot seem to find a comfortable position. "You're back?" you ask him, still working on your leg. "Hmm?" He pretends to notice you for the first time, still not ready to lock his eyes with you, instead, playing with his fingers. "Oh, yes. Just...had to give a couple of instruction to the...uhh...boys." "I don't like that Helbindi guy-" you screw your nose and Loki seems to lose a couple of ounces of air- "he gives off bad vibes." "Yeah, yeah he does," he agrees with you, walking slowly and calculatingly towards the bedroom part of the room. Your leg switches. "I'm glad that you have the majority though. That too considering you have been away for a looooong time." You raise your head and he busies himself in the ferns kept at the entrance of the bed-chamber before asking himself what his idiotic ass was trying to do. Finally finding the strength, he looks back up at you and nods with a smile. Walk to the other side of the bed, he is practically giving the basic instructions to his brain now. She isn't going out like this, is she? That one part of his brain clad in some dark crevices questions him. That one simple thought seems to raise multiple silent alarms in his body. "So-" he tries to point at you and the door but fails and instead takes his finger to scratch an itch at the back of his neck- "you're going to sleep in now?" That glowy leg worth months of hair growth suddenly drops on the floor. And so does your face. Loki cannot make out what you're thinking because he is busy waiting for your answer. "You want me to sleep somewhere else?" It's just a softly put question. But your eyes seem to glimmer in sadness as if he just betrayed you some way. "What?" he is more surprised by the fact that you did not think of it as a possibility. Why would she sleep somewhere else? We've been doing it the whole trip! Well, the whole trip did not have rooms like this one, balconies like this one and certainly not a view like this one. Loki breathes, opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out for a good few seconds. He is still trying to make his mind look away from all the stray water droplets falling from your hair inside your clothes. "No-" he blinks, bringing his eyes back to yours, licking his lips, he is soft in his speech- "um, you stay here." Loki, you are a God. With the sudden reminder, he clears his throat, straightens his back and brings back that dominating energy in the room. "You stay here," he orders this time. Your quick smile is already melting that robust core of his. And that quick jump on his bed catalysis the effect. "Cool!" You sit there with your legs folded under you, thighs spread, and that shirt not covering as much as it is supposed to. "Woah!" you snapped him out of his trance as you took a little jump on the bed. The sudden glow in your eyes was sending a tingling sensation down his spine. "Oh," you exclaimed, going up and down on your thighs, "we finally have a hard mattress! God, I'm old!" Loki just stood there, watching you arch your back as you went up and down, testing the bed, and at the same time testing his fortitude. Why-why is she not wearing a bra? Loki smacks his inner self. That's what concerns you right now? "Stop that," he growls. One final jump and you are falling on your back with a long sigh. That tingle seems to have subsided but as it is going back, Loki's gaze cannot seem to come off your body- you lying with your limbs spread out as you groan out loud to remove that fatigue from your lungs. That double chin of yours is quite evident when you raise your head just a little to look for the quilt and bring it closer to you with your feet. Who does she think she is? A part of Loki asks. Beautiful, his inner voice answers without a pause, all dreamy eyes for you and your double chin. "By the Norns, you have to stop," the God growled again, making you pause your leg mid-air with the quilt in between your toes. You drop that quilt just like that and turn to rest your head on your palm. "Stop and...?" that low hoarse tone of your mixed with a wicked glow in your eyes lights up a section inside the God he should not be thinking about. Especially when it has the power to take over his brain. The next time he opens his eyes, you can witness a change in that usually brooding boy to something more...feral? Those bloody eyes of the only Jotun you know are sending you mixed reverberations. By the time you are trying to figure out what it is behind those eyes, Loki's leg is already on the bed and his body over you within two strides. Your hips are locked in by his thighs and he is looking down at you with a simmering gaze. You are definitely questioning all your freaky actions tonight. But I thought I would tease him a little! You know, to get his mind off serious stuff going outside that door!! And here you are, lying under Loki, your hands clasped close to your chest while your eyes are trying to figure out his next move, all the while unconsciously biting your lower lip. Not gonna lie, this blue version of him kinda looks sex- Loki's hands go down, right between his legs. You are about to catch your breath and cross your legs when his hands yank out the quilt from between the two of you to lay it over you. Your lips are still apart, mouth gaping, breaths at a pause while Loki flattens the fabric out over you till your neck before tucking it on your either side to the point that you cannot escape it even if you wanted to. Your brows furrow in disappointed confusion. Your hands are making that universal gesture of 'what the fuck???' under that damned sheet whereas Loki is proudly looking at his work. "That should keep you warm." “Dude!” Is all you can let out from your lungs before letting your body struggle to get out of this cosy prison. Loki gets up and away from the bed to undo his coat, looking away from you and smiling at this little achievement. “Don’t waste your breath, darling. I learned it from my mother. You cannot get out of that hold unless you have calmed down enough to-“ His words disappear when he turns back to witness you already deep in sleep; your lips parted, your head practically drowning in the pillow, and little snores already forming in your nostrils. “How exhausted were you to sleep within seconds?” He whispers, never taking his eyes off. I need to teach her not to sleep with her guard down in suspicious places.

The coat lay on the floor along with the familiar pants and shirt. Loki sits on the bed in a nightgown, letting his back rest on the bed frame while his eyes gather some much needed light sleep. The night outside is still if not for the periodic interruptions of crows here and there. The chill of this frozen land comes as a blessing for this Jotun, who is no longer regulating his temperature as per the Midgardian ways. His Jotun form too is breathing fine, even feeling better than before. A true blessing in disguise. “Mmm…no…I don’t like it…” you mumble in your sleep, opening Loki’s eyes before he knows what’s happening. His hand automatically reaches out for you, coming to rest on your forehead before realising he cannot use magic to get rid of any bad dreams. So, instead, he softly pats your head. Your sleep laden crinkled brows seem to find some peace from those soothing pats, going back to dreamless sleep and loud snores. Loki cannot help but burst into a silent laugh at those snores. How can someone so small and comparatively frail snore worse than a giant?! That laugh that crinkles the edge of his eyes seems to be slowly melting into a smile; and not any ordinary smile at that. It is bringing a sweet realisation with it; a realisation about this human. Among seven billion humans, this one seems to have brought him the comfort he never even dared to feel. The past few days spent in this human's company were far lighter and chirpier than the most extravagant days spent as a child in Asgard. There was no anxiety, no restlessness. Whenever he was not able to collect his thoughts, looking at this human used to bring everything to a standstill. Knowing that he is not alone this time brought a certain peace to his soul; brought solutions faster and escape routes quicker than his enemies could calculate. Is this what it's like to have a friend? To have the want to protect them, fight them, tease them, make their life miserable but never let anyone else lay a finger on them? Is this what friendship means?? As if to answer his question, your snores break into a snort before you wiggle inside your duvet to crawl closer to him in your sleep. Your hand stretches out from under the warm cover, take an elongated sigh till it touches Loki's arm and wraps those toasty fingers around his cold muscle. Loki has paused his existence for a second to make sense of this moment. She feels safe with you, a soothing voice inside him resonates in his core and he is watching you in a new light. Some moisture seems to gather at the edge of his eyes before he blinks it away and slides down to rest his head on the pillow right next to yours. He does not realise it but his arm is frozen in that place for you to hold on to it and there is a slight smile on his lips while his eyes are observing every single detail on your face. The God does not seem to notice a bubble being projected out of the bed to overtake the room with a warmth that is emanating from the celestial being himself. And most of all he does not seem to notice the voice hiding in the dark corner somewhere looking at you with heart eyes. I like this human. She can stay.

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leejeongz · 4 years ago

Text

cix as your boyfriend

requested: yes, by anon

bx: (i don’t not need i do not need i do not need 🥲🥲🥲 ok maybe i need🥲🥲🥲)

♡ his favourite date- late night drive + music

♡ he’s the dj and the driver. you can just sit back, relax, and enjoy the scenery. he likes the privacy that you two have without being locked away in a room. you two can talk for hours while he just drives, with no real plan on where you’re going.

♡ skinship- he’s annoying ASF, he just wants to be by you all the time. most skinship comes after teasing, to show you that he was just joking. he loves holding hands, wrapping his arm around you and linking arms in public, back hugging and resting his head on your shoulder sometimes too. at home, there is no limit. there is no skinship that he wouldn’t partake in with you.

♡ his love language- quality time. when you’re together, you’re not getting a word in edge ways. he tells you anything and everything, everything he’s seen, everything he’s eaten, EVERYTHING. but it’s only because he wants to share his life with you, even the moments you don’t see. he loves seeing you laugh at his stories and how your eyes light up when he’s around. but even when no one is talking, he’s content and doesn’t want the moment to end.

♡ kisses- he likes catching you off guard, pressing kisses onto any exposed skin at any time. he loves placing kisses onto your jaw line and then pulling away and looking at you expectedly with a grin on his face. he’s very proud whenever he gets to kiss you. deeper kisses are rare and usually lead to something more, but he’s not apprehensive to initiate them.

♡ uses pet names ironically, to tease you, especially in front of your friends. he has no shame and isn’t afraid to call you his flower anywhere he wants.

♡ he can sense when somethings upsetting you or you’re being off and he’s straight there to comfort you with whatever you need, hugs, a bath, even just a conversation. he’s NOT letting you be upset or down when you deserve to be happy :((

♡ the type of guy to want to stay home with you rather than go out. especially if you’re more on the introverted side. he just doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable and thinks it’s more intimate.

♡ if he’s not getting all of your attention, he’s gonna be hella jealous. when he’s jealous, he can either get real mad or real pouty, but it’s usually something that you can reassure him on with some extra loving that day.

seunghun:

♡ his favourite date- escape room

♡ even if you never manage to escape because brain cells???? he still loves watching you try and helping you where he can. honestly, he’s no help at all because he’s too busy watching you, but you’re so captivating while at work like that hehe, can you blame him?

♡ skinship- his hand is always engulfing yours. he quite often gives you back hugs too. he prefers back hugs to normal hugs since he thinks they’re more innocent and sweet. he loves having you tucked under his arm when you’re sitting next to him, even if it’s in public. this boy does not care, skinship is the same at home or in public.

♡ his love language- quality time. when he’s not working, he’s with you. you do everything together, he values your company over anyone else’s. he knows you must miss him, because he misses you the moment you say goodbye. he wants to be the centre of your attention the whole time and he’ll do anything to make sure that he is.

♡ kisses- first of all he loves when you kiss his neck!! but your lips actually meet regularly. he likes to kiss you when you’re both tucked up in bed, he thinks it actually helps you both sleep better. he’s forever giving you pecks on your cheek too, but he knows when to stop so that it doesn’t become annoying.

♡ you first held hands after he asked you to compare hand sizes. he always thought of the moment beforehand and that your hands are probably a lot smaller than his, but the reality was they were only like 1cm smaller. but he thought it makes it easier to hold your hand so he prefers it this way ><.

♡ he will do anything to make you laugh or to make you smile. he’s hates seeing you upset or down, even if it is over the tiniest thing, so he’ll be EXTRA goofy and jokey with you until you’re happy.

♡ it doesn’t matter where you’re going, who you’re going with, what you’re gonna do, he’s gonna be there. and you can’t get sick of his presence so he doesn’t have to worry about that either

yonghee:

♡ his favourite date- thrifting together

♡ first of all he is NOT gonna get bored while shopping with you and is actually prepared to take an active boyfie role. he’ll help you pick out clothes that he thinks look good on you that you may have not picked out for yourself. when you come out wearing them from the changing room he smiles at you brightly while his heart is just going CRAZY.

♡ skinship- he strokes and pats your hair a lot, he thinks it’s endearing and it always makes you smile and blush, so he does it all the more. he’s a little shy when it comes to skinship, even when you two are in private. he’d rather tell you how much he loves you and show you through his acts of service. that being said, he does love placing tiny kisses on your forehead wherever you are.

♡ his love language- words of affirmation. sometimes all he needs is a little chat with you to make him do that little better. he wants to make you proud, especially since you go out of your way to help him. he often thinks about how lucky he is to have someone like you who gives him that boost of confidence without even realising what you do.

♡ kisses- very romantic. long, passionate kisses are rare but when they do happen, they take your breath away. when you two kiss, it takes away any struggles or any worry that you had for that brief moment. playful kisses are more frequent. he smiles into them and when he pulls away, he covers his mouth because he’s gone all shy 🥺

♡ he still gets a little bit shocked when you ask to do things with him. he’s like “what? me? why?” (his subconscious constantly wanting confirmation? we’ve all been there bby) and when you reply “because you’re my boyfriend” he gets EXTRA FLUSTERED

♡ the pet names he has for you 🥺 make you blush a whole lot 🥺 he hasn’t gone a day since you pair got together without calling you “honey” or “darling”, but he’s also created some more that suit your personality 😭😭

♡ definitely prefers calling you over texting you, or leaving you little voice notes. he likes leaving voice notes for you to wake up to when he’s not there and imagines your cute reaction when you listen to them.

♡ knows exactly what to say and when to say it. he can be flirtatious in a jokey way, but hidden under the laughter there’s sincerity and you know it

jinyoung:

♡ his favourite date- art museum

♡ as well as being able to giggle with you at all the suggestive 😼 art, he also likes having deep conversations with you about how you’re interpreting the art. he likes learning about how you think and how you feel. plus it’s an excuse for you to both dress up nicely and maybe even a little bit… matching.

♡ skinship- there’s not much pda, if any at all. i think he’s someone that would want to keep his relationship private, so not even hand holding in public. he’s that guy who waits for you to fall asleep just so he can wrap his arms around you or place a kiss on your nose. he likes resting his head on your shoulder while you watch movies together, sometimes he even falls asleep like that 😭😭

♡ his love language- acts of service. he really appreciates even the tiniest things that you do for him. when you cook for him, or collect his mail, or clean up while he’s resting after a busy day. he feels a little guilty since he knows that you have a life too though, so he’s never expecting you to do anything for him, which is why it’s even more lovely when you do.

♡ kisses- HOT AND PASSIONATE, DEEP KISSES. they always leave you flustered, but to make things even worse, he’ll then place his cold hands on your cheeks and laugh at how hot it made you. expect tiny kisses throughout the day on your hand or on your shoulder (but you cannot expect the surprise ones ofc which are even more frequent)

♡ his gift giving skills are out of this world. he remembers every date that he should and gives you something he knows that you’ll like, as well as the cliché but still nice things like flowers and chocolate. he gets so giggly when he gives them to you aww babyyyy

♡ gets so whiny when you say no to him 😭 it will be like 2am and he wants to come over but ur like “can’t you wait until tomorrow?” and then he ends up just coming over anyway to complain about you saying no

♡ uses his cuteness against you. either you love it and can’t resist it, or you hate it and give in just to make him stop.

♡ he likes fun but what he likes more is seeing you have fun. catching you smiling when you’re doing something or seeing you on pictures with a massive grin on your face makes him so happy.

hyunsuk:

♡ his favourite date- bowling

♡ seeing u in those shoes is enough. but fr he likes how light hearted it is and how fun it ALWAYS is with you. he almost always lets you win and when he does he pays for your drinks and food while you’re there. he does get a kick out of you getting it down the gutter 3 times in a row, even if it happens every time.

♡ skinship- not much for pda, maybe a little bit of handholding and a discreet back hug while you’re waiting in line. he loves being near to you though. at home, he’s more of a playful boyfriend. there’s lots of tiny little scraps on the sofa about who’s feet get the rest on the other’si laps, and who gets to sleep on the other’s chest in bed.

♡ his love language- receiving gifts. given that he can’t spend much time with you, he thinks about you a whole lot more than he does anyone else, and receiving gifts from you shows him that you do the same. more so than the gifts, he gets excited when he sees how excited you are to give him something. it’s endearing 🥺

♡ kisses- longer kisses are giggly but still full of passion and love. he can’t wait to put his lips on yours and soon becomes more and more comfortable with making the first move. he’s not one for giving little pecks, those are rare, but he loves when you surprise him with them.

♡ even though he always wants to make you flustered, he usually gets wayyy more flustered than you in his attempts to do so. his cheeks burn up and his hands come up to cover his face.

♡ okay this boy LOVES listening to you talk. looking into your eyes while you talk about everything and anything, just admiring everything about you.

♡ sings for you. all the time. even if you don’t request it he’s gonna be belting out a romantic song to you.

♡ sometimes he doesn’t even realise he’s done it, but he’ll drop something really sweet and romantic into a conversation and your heart will be thumping immediately and he’ll panic thinking he said something wrong.

#cix #cix imagine #cix imagines #bx #seunghun #yonghee #jinyoung #bae jinyoung #yoon hyunsuk #hyunsuk #cix fluff #cix reaction #cix reactions

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barricadebops · 4 years ago

Text

And He Falls With a Smile

Summary: In 1823 Feuilly arrives in Paris. In 1824 a man in a daring red waistcoat invites him to a student organization where despite his orphan status, Feuilly gains a family in the throes of rebellion and revolution. Read on AO3 here.

1823

In many ways, Paris is quite unlike the south. The city bustles with more people than Feuilly had ever seen in Aigues-Mortes. He will likely have to take a while to become accustomed to the constant crowds in the streets, the way everyone seems a stranger to each other.

However, to his due consideration, Paris is also in many ways quite akin to the south.

The language of French rolls easy off his tongue like the rhythms of Provençal and Polish, and casts no doubt on his employability when it comes to dealing with coworkers at the fan-making atelier. The streets are still lined with the poor who cry out for help, for just one sou while the haughty bourgeois stroll past leisurely, and there are still women thrown on the ground—prostitutes from destitution, children begging for alms instead of attending school, and there is so much misery that surrounds him when he steps foot in the city, and the orphan boy thinks that there has not been much significant change here, that he will work here until he dies never having known a true family.

Feuilly’s only family has been the concepts of France, Poland, Greece, Hungary, Romania, Italy—simply put, the rest of the world, the people of the rest of the world.

So, Feuilly resolves that he shall adopt the people of Paris too.

________________________________________________________________

1824

He meets a man by the name of Bahorel, down by the schools of law.

Three francs does not buy a man much. It hardly puts bread on the table. It certainly does not provide for better clothes than what Feuilly dons everyday. And only in his scarcely selfish dreams, do three francs provide him with a place at the universities of Paris, where every bit of knowledge is put within his reach with thought only of reading and reading and reading until his brain tires and he nods off to sleep, blissful in the knowledge that he will not have to rush awake the next morning to catch work.

But three francs does not lend him that reality. Three francs only lets him gaze wistfully outside the buildings and think of a life where he could read better, where he could write better, where he wouldn’t have to waste away toiling at the fan-making atelier—where others would not have to toil away—others who are younger, who are needy, who should be going to school. People from France, from Poland, from Greece and Hungary and Romania and Italy. People from around the world who deserve better than to have their inherent right to an opportunity, an education, a leap at life—taken away from them.

L'École de droit de Paris is teeming with young men, all affluently dressed, all hailing from wealthy families—men who care not for why lawyers are so prudent, why law needs to be so heavily examined. It is filled with men who walk without casting a glance at Lady Themis, their patron, who stands disappointed—though she may be blindfolded—knowing that her supposed guardians do nothing to bring about justice, to bring about her divine right. It is filled with bourgeois young men with haughty airs, fake smiles, and cold graces.

L'École de droit de Paris teems with such young men when classes are let out. For now, Feuilly can enjoy its tranquility, its academic aura without the glances thrown his way. Peasant worker.

So no one can really seek to blame him for the irritation that rises within him when he feels a man crash into his side, throwing him off balance and sending him sprawling onto the hard cobblestones of the campus.

"Are you quite alright?"

Feuilly has the strong urge to snap at the hooligan present above him now that he was not alright at all, not since he disturbed some of the only moments he is allowed to breathe free with his rough tumbling.

But he stops short. Something about the man's smile—though he must admit, it seems rather rude to smile in a situation like this—halts the words on his tongue.

The man, or well rather a boy since he looks like he cannot be much older than him—is smiling brashly, unabashed in his humour. Though he wears the red coat of a man bound to be wealthy, there is a certain quality in the way he holds out his hand to Feuilly, without disgust, without turning his nose up at him, without thinking that he is a great saint for doing so, that makes Feuilly think that he cannot possibly be of the bourgeois, and without thinking, Feuilly takes the proffered hand and rises his feet. As he regains his footing, the man nearly sends him back down by delivering a mighty clap on his back.

"My sincerest apologies, my good fellow. Here you were, wasting away your time like a respectable gentleman should be doing, when I so rudely crashed into you. But I do believe this is a fortunate coincidence! To meet another sensible individual—it is not everyday you have the great opportunity to meet another idler—they seem rather scarce in this dull profession. I do know of just one other, but unfortunately Bossuet is forced to remain in Blondeau's class—what amusement! Imagine Blondeau really considering that being kicked out of his class is a punishment! I fret for poor Bossuet who shall come out having truly come into possession of knowledge on property law. Just imagine!"

Much as Feuilly may have tried if he really did want to, he could not imagine, considering he was not actually a student of law, not to mention that he had absolutely no clue who this Bossuet was.

"But—" the man continues on, and Feuilly vaguely realizes that at this point he should make haste to mention that he is not actually a student of l' ècole and that he really should be heading back to the atelier, but the man barrels on, "say, I have not seen you in any class before. You certainly must be younger than I, for there can be no other way to explain it."

Feuilly flushes. How could this man seriously still go on believing that he was a student here when he saw the way he dressed and held himself?

Clearing his throat, he shook his head and clarified, "You're mistaken, Monsieur. I am not a student of the school."

The man's eyebrows furrow for a moment before his smile returns with massive force. "And I thought you could not possibly get better!" Feuilly's gaze darts up curiously. "How fortunate indeed!"

At this, Feuilly's mind staggers a little, and he bristles at the way the man's words rub on him. Did he think it was fortunate that a poor man like him could not afford an education, a right all deserve? Did he think it was fortunate that children lacked the opportunity to acquire knowledge because of the situations they were born into?

This man had to be of the haughty bourgeois, there was no doubt about it. His bold, rather daring waistcoat definitely spoke a testament to the statement.

There was work to be done at the atelier, there were fans to be made, money to be earned, another day to be lived. Feuilly needed to head back and throw this man out of the recesses of his mind, for he did not have any space freed up there either.

And yet—

And yet, Feuilly finds that this man is so incredibly wrong to have said what it is he said, and, well, someone must correct him one way or another—

"Forgive me, Monsieur," he says stiffly, "but I see absolutely no reason as to why this is a good thing. Do you really laugh at the thought of an orphan being unable to find the money to pursue an education?"

For the first time in their spontaneous conversation, the man's face is thrown off guard.

"Pardonnez-moi ?" His brows wrinkle before he bursts out with a hearty laugh. "Oh no! My dear fellow you have it all wrong!" The man grins and for a split moment Feuilly is sure he is the slightest bit mad. "I—of all people! I could never make fun of the peasants—my own parents are peasants, mon ami, it is why they have common sense."

There is something in this man's bold words that has even Feuilly amused enough to crack a smile. Perhaps he had simply misjudged him; though he would likely never understand Feuilly on the full on accounts of actually still having parents that evidently did love their son, the man hailed from a peasant background, so of all things, he was definitely not stuffy like the rest of his new-class, though the daring red coat did write him into Feuilly's books as just the slightest bit reckless—such was the effect of the colour red clothed on such a brash man.

He lets out a resigned sigh; at this point he absolutely has to get back to the factory if he wants to clock in on time. But the man is still grinning at him, and Feuilly cannot help but feel the urge to stay.

"Your words undoubtedly ring true, and it speaks a testament to the kind of life you have been made to lead." All at once, his face turned serious. "We need more men like you at our meetings—come join us, I beg of you."

Meetings? What sort of meetings could this man have been talking about?

Unless…

Feuilly was not illiterate. He had caught whisperings of secret Jacobin societies, groups that hid themselves away from the gaze of the King as they would secretly plot rebellion. A man of the people, the true common man, Feuilly too had been eager to join these groups—but where was the time? He hardly had any time to go back to the pathetic little apartment he had managed to scrounge up money for, how could he find himself time to attend Republican meetings?

At the atelier, the clock was surely ticking away, bringing Feuilly closer every minute to being late heading back to work. "I'm sorry," he turns away and makes to head off. "I find myself unable to join, unfortunately, at the moment."

There is an elbow at the crook of his arm easing him around. "I urge you to reconsider, Monsieur. There is always room for new recruits, and I assure you that your input will always be valued." He opened his mouth to argue when the man put up a hand to stop him. "Your time needn't be an issue—we are all but students, we will uphold your responsibilities if need be. But your word—your word will be no doubt incredibly valuable. Please think of it."

Feuilly hesitates; in the sky, the sun burned bright in indication of a rapidly approaching afternoon. "And what do you call yourselves?"

The man's eyes twinkled. "Les Amis de l 'ABC," he replies rather cheekily.

Les Amis de l'ABC? Somewhere, the name strikes at Feuilly's core. The Friends of the ABC. Surely an educational group—that was something he could support—and something he could personally understand, too.

"And what is it exactly that your group does, Monsieur?"

"Well, in name, we are dedicated to the education of children." (L'ABC). The man's smile turns a little sharp as he lowers his voice. "In reality, we… Well, I suppose you would have to come see yourself, would you not? Though I suppose if you ponder our name long enough, you should figure out anyways.”

ABC…

Abaisse.

Les Amis de l’ABC — Les Amis de l'abaisse.

The Friends of the ABC—the Friends of the abased.

A rather clever name, if he had to be quite honest. So it was as Feuilly suspected.

“And who exactly makes up your group?” he asks, attempting to keep up his inquisitive tone even as he moves to clasp the man’s hand.

The man laughs. “Well, if—when we succeed, I imagine we shall become a group that will belong to some measure of history, though that’s not why do what we do.”

“Succeed?”

“Yes! I have no doubts that we shall do exactly that. The question is, Monsieur, will you be there with us when we do so?”

There is no reason to say yes; in fact, there is every reason to say no. The minutes are still ticking by and the factory foreman is not a forgiving man, especially not towards orphans who need the job more than he needs the orphan, and there was never any time to join such organizations, and so many of them are run by bourgeois boys who did not know what they spoke of, never truly knew what it was their goals should be, why would they accept Feuilly among their ranks—

And yet, there is just something about this man, something about the aura he exudes, something brash and reckless but accepting, even if his words do not always come off that way, that makes him hesitate from immediately flatly refusing and turning to get on with his day, something about the unspoken promise held in his words, something about the name—the Friends of the Abased.

He heaves a breath and looks up at the sky; it’s approach towards afternoon and the way campus seems to hold its breath, ready to release when the professors adjourn their classes signals his inevitable tardiness at work.

He glances at the sparkle glinting in the man’s eyes—there is an entire future, a lifetime held within the promise of the society that the man informs him of that Feuilly is yet unaware of.

“Well where is it that you meet?”

With a mighty thump on his back, the man slings an arm around his shoulders, using his arm to point his finger towards the horizon in the direction of the north-east. “Follow the streets until they take you towards the Café Musain at Place Saint-Michel, near six tonight. Ask a patron to lead you towards the backroom—a male, however, for we do not allow women to enter—with the exception of dear Louison, that is—surely you can understand the delicate nature of women, my own mistress would tremble at the talk of rebellion and she is one to laugh at about anything I should think to say—and surely you shall see me there. And if I should be late—for it is not unheard of that I should be out late talking to others of the same cause—tell them you were asked to join by Bahorel.”

Feuilly swallows. Seemed rather a large commitment he was signing onto before even truly attending one of these meetings.

“I shall ensure my best efforts to attend one of your meetings then, Monsieur Bahorel,” he says at last.

“And we shall ensure our best efforts to work towards that future in which orphans are allowed to pursue the education they seek.” The man—Bahorel—tips his hat. “Now you must pardon me, Monsieur—”

“Feuilly,” he interrupts. Bahorel inclines his head in sign of having listened.

“—Feuilly,” he says, “but the afternoon approaches and classes will soon be adjourned for the rest of the day, and I must deploy myself to the mighty task of finding Bossuet and listening to his new complaint no doubt against Blondeau, and then head off with him to find young Enjolras and de Courfeyrac too, for though the former may be able to sway a crowd with his words, especially with his second-in-command by his side, those two cannot hope to find their way through the university streets and—”

“Thank you, Monsieur Bahorel, I shall hope to see you then, tonight," he interrupts, only the slightest bit ashamed for having done so; he really does need to be on his way.

If Bahorel takes offense to his interruption, he makes no sign of it; rather, he clasps his hand, and says, “Thank you, Monsieur Feuilly. Your presence will be greatly appreciated. No doubt everyone will be pleased. I look forward to seeing you sit amongst us.

Feuilly tips the ragged hat he has on his head in response.

This is how it begins.

________________________________________________________________

1825

It is ten at night, a most indecent time for respectable men to still be outside, and yet Feuilly can see no sign of Enjolras tiring while he listens with bright eyes to what Feuilly has to say on the subject of the partitioning of Poland.

It was indeed a topic of great rage and indignation for Feuilly, that date of 1772. How was it that a monarchy, a tyranny, had the right to strip a people of their identity? Of their nationality? He exclaimed as much to Enjolras, who watched on with awe.

"But how can they have the right? To tell a people that they no longer have the ability to climb atop their tables and exclaim 'I am Polish! Here I stand free in my country of Poland! ?" Running a hand through his fiery hair, he fumed just as he thought about it. "The audacity!"

At the table, Enjolras scoots closer, looks up at him with wide eyes. “Indeed. Tell me more of it.”

He glances at him, and, briefly, he allows himself to ponder the person sitting in front of him. Feuilly hesitates to call him a boy, though, at nineteen years, that is exactly what he is.

It is simply that, despite his excessively youthful face, there was something in Enjolras' eyes that gave him the feeling that the boy had already lived for hundreds of years, made him feel as if he were seated in front a man who had already, in some previous existence, traversed the many revolutions of the past.

And yet—

And yet, despite that, not having gone unnoticed by any of those few members who attended the meetings, it is Feuilly who Enjolras evidently idolizes—reveres, even.

And it is a fact that Feuilly cannot fully comprehend; of all the people Enjolras is surrounded by, all the people he has to idolize—Combeferre or Joly or even Bahorel—he sees first and foremost Feuilly, a poor orphan who struggles to read when Enjolras himself could make his way through the thickest of volumes with ease.

Feuilly does not think less of himself for his background, but how often can a man go on surrounded by people who excelled in a variety of skills than he could only ever hope to gain without feeling the occasional pang of self doubt?

He allows himself a smile. “But I thought you had already read about this, Enjolras? Combeferre tells me the matter is one that incenses you quite the bit—rightfully, might I add.”

He thinks of how strange it is—at the atelier, no one gave second thought to anything Feuilly had to say, so he never really thought to say anything anymore to his coworkers or his foreman who he knew would either ignore him or dismiss him straight away.

But Enjolras listens. He listens to the words of a poor orphan boy, and despite his upbringing by his parents that likely taught him not to pay heed to the words of a man like Feuilly, he instead leans forward, always leans forward at every meeting whenever Feuilly raises his voice to contribute, and he listens breathlessly and nods and says But of course, and Yes you’re right, and But if you could please tell us more, we need more of what you have to say.

Enjolras nods vigorously. “Yes, of course, the stripping of the autonomy of any nation is an injustice—it is simply that hearing you speak of it is all the more informing.”

Feuilly quirks an eyebrow at him. “And why would that be?”

“Because you are all the more knowledgeable of this, of course.”

He huffs a laugh. “It was not as if I was there when they put down the first partition. I am hardly an eye-witness, nor would I say more knowledgeable than you.”

In front of him, Enjolras reaches a hand to grasp at Feuilly’s. “But you are! For as well as I understand it, I could never truly know what kind of an effect such a monstrous event could have on the common man. But you, Feuilly, you know so well, for you have endured far worse than I have, you are a much better man than I am, surely you must know you have my eternal respect—”

As he blushes, Feuilly briefly thinks of scolding Enjolras for proclaiming Feuilly better than himself only on the grounds that he was born in a different circumstance.

He squeezes Enjolras’ hand back. “Do not declare yourself a lesser man than me, Enjolras. Over this past year you have demonstrated the fact that those of the upper class can still have compassion and the skill to identify injustice, and you have made me feel all the more welcome amongst your ranks.”

Enjolras smiles. “Les Amis de l’ABC would not be what we are without your inclusion, my friend. It is for people like you that we fight, it would hardly be a cause if we did not have your voice present with us. The gratitude should be coming from me to you for trusting us, for joining us. You make us who we are Feuilly.”

And Feuilly is just the slightest bit blown away by Enjolras’ words, for while he knew Enjolras held a special sort of respect for him, he had never imagined that his reverence shaped up like this.

“Will you tell me more about Poland?”

He glances down at Enjolras, who stares up with hopeful eyes, and he smiles.

“But of course.”

________________________________________________________________

1826

It is not unheard of that Jehan Prouvaire should be sitting quietly in his corner after meetings, staring dreamily at his paper as if he could see entire meadows and forests scrawled on it rather than the lushious words he pens to create his poetry.

“The stars are not out and yet you gaze at your paper as if you can already see the constellations they form,” he says as he lowers himself into the chair next to Prouvaire, having been beckoned over.

Prouvaire blushes and smiles softly. “Every constellation has a story tied to it, and poetry seeks to do much the same. Poetry is how our ancestors spoke of their tales around the fire.”

“Is that what you will be writing about today? The stars?”

Prouvaire hums and shakes his head. “No. I think I should like to write in Polish today.”

Jerking slightly, Feuilly looks at him, confused. “Write in Polish?”

He nods. “Yes. I think of it often, you know, and I feel it’s an injustice, the way the Polish identity has been stolen from the people, almost as if their right to thought has been taken. I figured, would it not be prudent, then, of me to write a poem in Polish, and reaffirm their status?”

Nodding vigorously, Feuilly agrees, “Yes, of course. Your words hold the utmost merit, and I’m glad to see you acknowledge this through your words. I can think of no better way for you to express your thoughts about this than through your sacred form of writing.”

He props his chin on his hand and leans forward. “Yes, but I seem to encounter a problem in that I do not know how to speak Polish. My friend, I only have one favour to ask of you: will you help me construct this poem?”

Feuilly blinks. Of all the honours he could have been bestowed with… For Prouvaire, reading and writing poetry was one of the very fundamental things that kept people humble. To connect to nature, to hear of stories past—it is what both allows humans to soar amongst the beauty present in the world, yet keep them humbled and grounded to work on what needed to be improved. For Prouvaire, poetry is his form of worship, his devotion to the miracles of the world before him, present in front of him, and the one yet to come.

“You would choose to ask… me, to help you?” he asks, bewildered at the thought of him sharing something so close to his heart, to his spirit.

There is a sort of sparkle in Prouvaire’s eyes, a look he reserves for when he gazes at wildflowers and oats growing in meadows, or for when he hears the nightingale sing—a look so impossibly soft that he can use it only when he finds himself looking upon a being he believes deserves to be showered upon with love and written about with the utmost tenderness—and it is present in his eyes when he gently places his hand atop Feuilly’s and says with the utmost solemnity, “My friend, I could think of no one else who I would trust more for such a matter.”

Feuilly is rendered speechless. Both with the love he feels for his friend, and by the astonishment at the trust his friend shows in him.

Feuilly hopes the world will see Prouvaire's soft verses and name him with the likes of Keats, whom he idolizes.

Jehan hopes that one day the world will read his poem—the one he writes now, that tells the story of a common fan-maker who spoke Polish and still strived to see the possibilities of the entire world despite the world never having strived to see the possibility in him—and understands the adoration that he and the rest of his friends had for a man who was made up of a thousand different nations and came from a thousand different stories and had with him a thousand different plans for the future.

________________________________________________________________

1827

The sky is dark and Feuilly’s perception of time has been skewed by the long, insufferable hours spent at the atelier crafting fans while harbouring a most dreadful headache.

He does not see that the clock has struck much past seven, much past eight, now half an hour after nine, and that his foreman kept him detained much longer than he realizes, taking advantage of the evident illness that has Feuilly dazed and unaware. With much effort, he pushes the door to the café open and stumbles towards the backroom where he expects his friends will be.

Upon reaching the backroom, he leans a hand against the frame and struggles to comprehend the image of an empty room, one where the meeting has clearly adjourned.

Well, mostly empty.

“Feuilly?” At his side, Combeferre reaches a hand to place on his shoulder, a steadying presence among the rushing winds that seem to have found their way into the café. “Are you quite alright?”

He coughs—once—twice—three times into his fist. “Well I do find myself in a bit of confusion,” he admits as Combeferre gently takes him by the crook of his elbow and seats him at a table. “Has the meeting for today been cancelled? I would not have imagined that everyone would be busy all at the same time.”

Combeferre tilts his head and looks at him peculiarly. “The meeting?” He frowns. “My friend, are you well? The meeting ended about an hour and a half ago.”

Furrowing his eyebrows, he coughs twice more as he shakes his head and says, “No, that cannot be. Surely it cannot be so late. I had only just seen the clock, look, there, it says…” he trails off as his eyes fall upon the small hand halfway towards its path to the painted ten, then glances back at Combeferre sheepishly. Clearing his throat, a rather painful task to do considering just how raw it feels, he manages to scrape out the words, “It appears I have missed the meeting. I apologize, I did not realize just how late it had become.”

Combeferre smiles sympathetically. “Evidently. Your presence was greatly missed at the meeting, Enjolras looked rather down about it, but nonetheless we understood, though we thought it was simply because you were working.

Burying his head in his hands, he croaks, “I was supposed to be working regular time. I don't know how I didn't realize the foreman had me working late without informing me of it.” At this, Combeferre’s eyes darken a shade.

“You cannot let this go unprotested, Feuilly,” he says, the slightest bit angry, though Feuilly knows it is not anger directed towards him. “Your foreman has no right to do so; we will go back tomorrow and demand he pay you what you deserve for working the extra hours you did.”

Raising his head, Feuilly looks up, a little surprised at Combeferre. “It will not work, Combeferre, for all that I would like it to. The foreman has plenty of people available to replace me should I start to fuss. Though it is wrong, you must know that he has the power to keep me longer without paying.”

Combeferre runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “However much power he holds, he cannot go against the principle of the matter and expect no retaliation. It is settled; we will go and speak to your foreman.” When Feuilly opens his mouth to speak, Combeferre holds his hand up and halts the words on his tongue. Silently, he reaches forward and gingerly places the back of his hand on Feuilly’s forehead, tutting at the heat that comes away. “Tell me how you feel,” he commands.

Feuilly frowns. “It is really not that much of a concern, my friend—”

“Feuilly,” Combeferre pinches the bridge of his nose before looking up at him again, “in about a years time I shall begin my internship at l’Hôpital Necker; as of right now, I have enough medical knowledge—well, really, anyone has enough medical knowledge—to diagnose you with the fact that you have caught a cold—no doubt from the rainy season we have all found ourselves trapped in—and while it is nothing serious, it can become something of a concern if you do not rest and allow me to take care of you.”

Feuilly looks away. “While I do not doubt your knowledge, Combeferre, you needn’t bother yourself with—”

“What is more so a bother, Feuilly,” Combeferre interrupts him once more, and does not even look the slightest bit embarrassed for doing so, “is when one of my friends fall ill, and instead of taking the time they need to get better, they only continue to work until it is worse and their recovery becomes all the more difficult.” He watches as Combeferre rises from his seat, holding out his hand when he says, “So, for my own convenience, if you believe—unjustly, may I add—that your own convenience is not worth it, please come back with me to my apartment so that we can have you back on your feet in mere matter of days rather than weeks.”

As Feuilly allows himself to be hauled up, his arm slung around Combeferre’s shoulders, for he does not believe he has the strength in him to stand a single second more on his own—he marvels at what it is he must have done that warrants fate to provide him with friends who care for him like a mother or father would their own child, though Feuilly is not well acquainted with the feeling.

________________________________________________________________

1828

Even before he feels Courfeyrac’s hand clap down on his shoulder, Feuilly can feel Courfeyrac approaching—because that is simply the kind of person he is; his aura is boisterous and bubbly, a loud that made you grin rather than cringe away.

“My friend!” Courfeyrac exclaims. “My friend, my friend, my very good friend!”

Feuilly smiles as he knows what is inevitably going to come up. “As much as you may ask, Courfeyrac, I simply do not have the time to stand out in the middle of the street only so you can ‘save’ me in front of that Genevieve girl you have recently taken a fancy to.”

Courfeyrac looks taken aback for a moment before he begins to laugh. “No, no, I was not speaking of that. Besides, I have most recently been made to come to sense that I do not need anyone to play the part of a man in distress who needs to be saved—as long as I somehow end her near Bossuet, I shall allow him to carry on with the way he already lives, and soon enough I shall have saved him from his own stupidity in front of her!”

At another table, Bossuet indignantly pipes up, “Hey!” In response, Joly waves his cane dismissively.

“Calm yourself, Aigle de Meaux, his facts are not incorrect.”

As Bossuet and Joly begin to bicker in that lighthearted way friends so often do, Courfeyrac turns his gaze towards him, and Feuilly finds himself blinking, trying to figure out what exactly it is Courfeyrac will be asking him as a favour, for he knows the beginning of their conversation is exactly what Courfeyrac will do every time he seeks to extract a favour from someone.

And whatever it is, Feuilly already knows he will be saying yes, for not only does he love his friend enough to do anything for him, he is sure that had it been Feuilly asking for the favour, Courfeyrac would have already been up from his seat heading off to help.

“Out with it, Courfeyrac,” he encourages with a smile. “What is it that you evidently need me to do?”

Courfeyrac grins. “You know me so well, my dear friend. Well, the matter is,” he lets out a long-suffering sigh, “my parents have been writing incessantly to me in hopes that I will, at their side, attend the ball of one of their long-time friends.” Courfeyrac grimaces. “I shall depart for Avignon in a week’s time.”

Feuilly blinks, confused. He could hardly grasp at what this entire affair had to do with him.

“But Courfeyrac, you have always struck me as a man who delighted in dressing in a nice coat and going dancing.”

Waving a dismissive hand, Courfeyrac huffs impatiently. “I like to go dancing with my friends. I would rather not have to suffer by my parents’ side at some ball surrounded by a crowd of people who cheer at the sight of the 1814 Charter.”

At his mention of the Charter, Feuilly allows himself a little laugh, his mind straying to a recent memory of Courfeyrac throwing a copy of the very same thing in the fire during a heated debate with Combeferre.

Calming himself, he manages enough breath to ask, “That is all good and fine, but what do I have to do with all this?”

With a beam, Courfeyrac shuffles closer to throw an arm around his shoulders. “So,” he begins, “all I ask from you is a small favour.” At Feuilly’s silence, he continues, “I want you to attend with me.”

At this, Feuilly nearly spits out the coffee he had taken in his mouth.

Once he finishes choking, he adopts a look of astonishment and asks, “Me?”

Courfeyrac’s grin is one of sincerity; try as he might, there is no sort of a joke written on his face. “Yes.”

Clearing his throat, he asks, “But… Why would you ask me of all people?”

At this, Courfeyrac frowns. “But why ever not you? I cannot think of a single reason why I would not ask you.”

He feels a humiliating blush stain his cheeks as the many, many reasons why he should be amongst the last people Courfeyrac should ask crosses his mind. For God’s sake, even Grantaire is a more preferable option—he, at least, hailed from a wealthy family, and so has the knowledge of the sort of behaviour and etiquette to be employed in such situations.

With a sad sort of smile, he places his hand on his friend’s shoulder and says, “Find someone else to go with you, Courfeyrac. I’m sorry, I truly am, but I must deny you this one thing.”

Courfeyrac’s frown deepens. “But why?”

Must he really push this issue?

Well, Feuilly is not ashamed of who he was, but it really is a little rude making him say the words.

“Courfeyrac,” he sputters, “I haven’t the faintest clue how to behave at such a social gathering. Neither do I… neither do I have the money for the sort of lavish clothing no doubt one is expected to wear there.”

Courfeyrac’s mouth flattens, and it is a rare moment that Feuilly sees him so frank. “Your background has not rendered you a scoundrel, Feuilly—I have only ever seen you act as a man should—honest and down-to-earth. You’re exactly the kind of person a man should be like, and frankly I do not care much for the opinions of my parents’ friends, and I believe you needn’t do so either. As for clothing, if you will not allow me to purchase you new clothing, I shall simply ask Combeferre to borrow his, on your behalf.”

His little speech shocks him. “But,” his voice is a little weak, “why would you ask me?”

At last, Courfeyrac’s face brightens once more into the sort of face he was famous for amongst his friends. “My friend! You are such interesting conversation! I cannot think of another person I would rather have by my side as I am forced to endure another gathering of insufferable royalists.”

Feuilly struggles with his words. Courfeyrac would have him attend the ball by his side? Once more he finds himself searching Courfeyrac’s face for any hint of a cruel joke, but finds none.

At his silence, Courfeyrac rises from his seat, grinning widely, for silence tends to give the impression that the opposing side has fallen into agreement. “Excellent! So, Tuesday next week we shall depart. And I shall begin my valiant search through Combeferre’s wardrobe!”

Feuilly remains astonished in his seat.

________________________________________________________________

1829

If he has to be completely honest, Feuilly does not talk very often with Grantaire, and so, Feuilly finds he cannot really come to a conclusion about him. He sees that the man is doubtful of their efforts, loud and rambunctious, and is drunk, always seems to be drunk.

But there is also a sort of melancholy present on his face when he thinks no one can see, when he does not constantly keep up that smirk as he goes on his next drunken ramble, a bitter and sardonic expression when he hears the rest speak of revolution and he finds himself too tired to even inject himself into the conversation. He sees a yearning, impossibly broken look grace Grantaire's face when their leader starts to speak or makes to smile or cries when upset or rages when he is furious—he seems to look as if he is reaching for something he can never quite have no matter how he stretches his fingers whenever Enjolras does anything, really.

Feuilly does not know much of Grantaire. So, he thinks to speak to him.

"Grantaire," he sits down next to him and inclines his head in greeting when Grantaire looks up from where he had been staring hard at his bottle of absinthe.

"Ah! The fan-maker makes time for me at last!" Grantaire cries as he spreads his arms wide. "Yes, young Feuilly, what is it that you find yourself in need of a drunk for?"

He ignores the young comment, only meditating briefly on the fact that he is the same age as Grantaire, and instead, hoping to forge a connection to the man, asks, "Did you really study under the guidance of Gros?"

Grantaire bellows out a loud peal of laughter. "My good fellow," he slurs, and Feuilly worries for how much he has had to drink tonight, "you must not believe everything that comes out of this drunkard's mouth."

He furrows his eyebrows. So he was lying?

"So you lied?" he asks in clarification. "You never did go to art school?"

A smile twists up Grantaire's face. "I only just told you not to trust everything I say. And yet! And yet, what is the first thing you do after I give you advice?"

He was beginning to get a little lost here. "I’m not quite sure I follow. Did you attend art school or not?"

Grantaire leans back in his chair. "Yes and no!"

"Yes and no?"

He grins at Feuilly. "A tale worthy of the likes of pleasant idlers, I am afraid, and while you are pleasant enough, you are anything but an idler—you cannot possibly hope to enjoy it."

He leans forward. "And yet, I find myself curious enough to hear of it nonetheless."

"Well," he starts, and for a moment, Feuilly fears that Grantaire will start on another one of his rather infamous rants, and while it is not that he is exactly opposed to them, but more so, he needs to get home so he can get however many hours of sleep Joly ordered him to get. "I certainly did attend classes at first. But the pretentiousness of it all! No man can tell you better that artists are amongst the most pretentious people to grace this hellish landscape we call earth. And the nude models were hardly anything to look at! I could get myself a better whore for less than a sou! Or better yet, not pay at all when it is me that such women always want!"

For a split second, Grantaire's gaze drifts, and when Feuilly tracks the movement of his eyes, he ends up looking over to where Enjolras stands at the table near the front, regarding Grantaire with a strong look of disappointment as he holds Grantaire's stare before returning to whatever it was he was discussing with Combeferre.

Grantaire tips his bottle towards the ceiling.

"No, I made the decision that no more would I waste away somewhere I knew I would rot. So instead I spent my time pilfering apples."

He huffs a laugh. “Pilfering apples? The ones used to model fruit?”

Within Grantaire’s eyes, Feuilly sees a mischievous sort of glint. “The very same.”

“And now? Do you still attend?”

He shrugs. “From time to time, though, I must ask why you think to ask me. My good fellow,” he reaches forward and lays a heavy hand on Feuilly’s shoulder. “I should think to ask you, rather, on your own painting.”

Feuilly flushes a little. “I haven’t the slightest of time for painting, Capital R.”

“And yet what little you have painted deserves to be hung up next to the works of Géricault!” Grantaire cries once more, and despite himself, Feuilly grins a little.

“It is hardly anything compared to Géricault.”

Grantaire waves a dismissive hand. “Bah! All these names—Géricault, Prud’hon, Delacroix—all of them are insufferable men who catch one whiff of fame and lose themselves to their pretentiousness. Your one work, young fan-maker, would be worth more than any of those scoundrels’ paintings put together.”

And Feuilly cannot help but gape, for this man in front of him, the very set definition of a skeptic, who once told their group, on his own whims, that believing was for the foolish and that he had no wish to believe in anything that would earn him an early death—he now sits here telling Feuilly that he finds meaning in his work, more meaning than in the works of the greatest painters to exist.

It leaves him shocked beyond compared.

Attempting to gather his thoughts once more into a state of decent coherency, he proceeds to ask, "Do you paint anymore?"

For a moment, just one quick moment that Feuilly admits he would not have caught had he not been looking closely, Grantaire's eyes flicker over to where Enjolras appears to be moderating some sort of a debate between Combeferre and Courfeyrac, laughing at something Courfeyrac must have said, and he notices the way Grantaire's face twists bitterly.

"Yes."

Feuilly does not ever ask what—or who—his subject is.

________________________________________________________________

1830

The weather of Paris in the spring signals the approach of a storm the Friends, unknown yet to their knowledge, will find themselves fighting in when the people decide in the season of July that tyranny must not be allowed to continue, and will resurrect barricades all throughout the city in the name of a free France achieved through a revolution that sees the overthrowing of King Charles X.

But for now, it is spring and the rain beats down upon the poor the hardest, upon those who have less shelter, fewer clothes, scarce food, and only in abundance do they have misery.

Feuilly counts himself lucky that he has a roof over his head, even if it is one that freezes in the night’s cold, and in the summer, swelters in the day’s heat.

Joly, however, does not seem to think so.

“I simply cannot allow you to go back to your flat when the rain beats down on our heads like this!” he cries, ignoring Feuilly’s several protests to the idea of spending the night at Joly’s residence, after Joly had taken one step into Feuilly’s own apartment and declared it uninhabitable in their current temperatures. “There is more than enough room at my residence, and I will not have one of my own falling ill when I had more than enough resources to prevent the ailment.”

“I wish not to intrude,” Feuilly repeats for what must surely be the hundredth time. “You already find yourself housing Bossuet, too, and—”

“Feuilly,” Joly scrubs a hand across his face, “helping a friend is hardly any bother to me. In the six years we have known each other is this how you expect me to behave?”

And Feuilly stops short, because Feuilly, who has never had a family—who has never had a mother or father or brother or sister—could hardly ever have imagined in his life that would have a friend—that he would have several friends—who would care for him—who would love him—like this, enough to offer up the chance at a residence that must look like a palace compared to his own shabby room, even if for one night.

“I simply… I simply would not want to cause any burden,” he mumbles.

Joly’s face splits into a bright grin, the one everyone who knows him is familiar with, the one that gives reason to why they all call him Jolllly. “But my friend!” he exclaims. “The more people to house, the more amusing the occasion, no?” Armed in one hand with his cane and the other holding Feuilly by the elbow, he begins to lead him towards his apartment. “Come! We shall make merry by the fire and drink to our heart’s content today—and we will not have to worry about rationing our drinking, for Grantaire is not here, either!”

“Make merry by the fire? But I regret to inform you that the Yuletide season is well past us,” an amused voice says by their side. As they both turn to the left, a familiar, laughing bald head makes itself apparent to their eyes.

Feuilly snorts. “I have not known you to be one to turn down an opportunity to nest by Joly’s fire, Bossuet. I find that I would rather while away the time in the false pretense that Christmas is still upon us rather than spend the hours shivering in the rain—would you not?”

“Bossuet can handle a little rain, what with the two sous in his pockets, he may even be able to manage a meager coffee,” Joly teases, carefully bringing the tip of his cane to rub at his nose.

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow. “Do tell, how does one manage a coffee at just two sous?”

“With enough grovelling at my door once he realizes that his endeavour is an impossible one and he owes me for the medical supplies I would inevitably have to purchase to bring him back to health after shivering so long in the cold.”

Bossuet bellows a laugh as he makes way for himself in between Feuilly and Joly, draping an arm around each's shoulders. “The grovelling will not be necessary, Jolllly, I shall tag along anyways. I would never decline, having found myself in the company of our dear friend Feuilly.”

Feuilly shoots him a confused look. “And why might my company be so desirable?”

Bossuet and Joly both laugh as if he had just told them the most amusing joke, but Feuilly cannot quite catch what it is that is so funny about what he said.

“Friends do not ask each other why their company is desirable, Feuilly,” Bossuet simply says.

And Feuilly feels something warm in his heart turn to a roaring fire, despite the chill of the rain.

Later, when he finds himself tucked into one of Joly’s armchairs, a blanket around him, he feels Joly lay a gentle hand upon his shoulder, looking at him most earnestly.

“I beg you think not of this as charity, my friend, but rather as something a friend would do for another. Nay a friend—more a brother.”

And with that, Joly leaves to prevent Bossuet from setting himself on fire in the kitchen while Feuilly struggles to blink back a wetness that threatens to slide down his cheeks, though his feelings are far from any sort of sorrow he has felt before.

________________________________________________________________

1832

He is hungry and he is thirsty and he is tired and he knows he is going to die.

He also knows that not only will he die in triumph, but he can imagine no other group of wonderful, extraordinary, familiar people he would rather die with.

Enjolras has already delivered news of their abandonment. Now, they sit and listen as he speaks of the principles of their fight, of the principles of their deaths, and Feuilly can think of no better speech he has ever heard in his short life.

He realizes, with a jolt, that Enjolras has turned to him. “Listen to me, Feuilly, valiant worker, man of the people, man of the peoples. I revere you. Yes, you see the future clearly, yes, you are right. You had neither father nor mother, Feuilly. You adopted humanity as your mother and right as your father. You’re going to die here—in other words, to triumph.” He holds his gaze for a second longer before he continues.

And Feuilly nods. Because he believes in Enjolras. He trusts in his words.

He knows he will die. But what better cause could there be?

He wishes they had succeeded, he had hoped, had so ardently believed that the people would rise with them.

But if the people do not wish to answer the call of revolution, he knows it will not succeed. He has accepted this.

And he realizes it is okay. He has come to terms with it.

He dwells on Enjolras’ words.

You had neither father nor mother, Feuilly. You adopted humanity as your mother and right as your father.

And, he quietly thinks to himself, I have adopted my friends as my brothers. And there is no one I would rather die beside. There are no other people who I would rather see smile one more time, or hold one more time, or laugh with and cry with and sit with one more time.

When he had first arrived in Paris, back eight years ago, Feuilly had resolved that he would adopt the people of Paris just as he had adopted those of the rest of the world.

He never imagined he himself would be adopted in turn.

________________________________________________________________

Rather than the bullet, Feuilly feels a sort of warmth spread through him instead. He lifts a hand to place at his side, where his blood begins to seep through his shirt and waistcoat.

He thinks of Bossuet’s laugh when he comes up with only two sous in his pocket and still offers Feuilly a drink.

He remembers why Joly was named the way he was, remembers his jollity in just about every situation Feuilly had found himself and Joly trapped in.

He nearly laughs at the thought of Grantaire’s rambles, and he sympathizes with his pursuit to find a family after his own had thrown him out. He sincerely hopes he will find the family that Feuilly did, too.

He recalls the feeling of Courfeyrac’s warmth, recalls how he kept the group together, how he shared that warmth with everyone no matter who they were, even if they were orphans like Feuilly.

He remembers Combeferre’s care, the way he always seemed to keep one eye open to look after everyone in the group, the way he never stopped making sure Feuilly got enough sleep, or had enough food, or rested enough, and he thinks that the world has just lost one of its greatest doctors.

He smiles at the memory of Jehan’s empathy, how his eyes seemed to see right through anything, and the way he always knew when to sit with Feuilly and ask him if there was something he wanted to share, something weighing down on his chest that was suffocating him, something that seemed to be relieved only when Jehan would smile that soft smile of his and tell him that he always had him by his side.

He can still feel Enjolras’ passion light up the barricade, recalls how his passion showed when he preached of a free France, when he spoke of the plight of the poor, and remembers the way that passion would soften into reverence when he would sit with Feuilly and listen to what he had to say, despite the fact that all his life he was likely taught to disregard men like him.

He remembers Bahorel’s bravery, how could he ever forget? He remembers that reckless smile, the bold behaviour that led to him taking his hand after being toppled to the ground, remembers that single question Bahorel asked him that would change his life forever, and he wishes—he cries at the thought of never having had the chance to say thank you, to tell him he is the reason why Feuilly is content to die in the situation he has found himself in.

Feuilly thinks of being born into the world with no family, no one to call his own.

Then he thinks about leaving it having found the men he loves, he loves—oh Lord above he loves like he could never love a mother or a father, he loves these men so much that it tears his heart in two thinking of each and everyone dying—he catches a glimpse of Enjolras being backed up the stairs while the National Guardsmen continues to prowl their way towards him and he sees Combeferre glance towards the heavens as his chest is speared by three bayonets and he sees Courfeyrac fall to his side having been shot once, twice, three times, and he sees Joly and Bossuet look towards each other as they are both shot side by side and he remembers the strength in Jehan’s voice when he cried out one last time in the name of the world they had sought to build and he remembers Bahorel’s spirit being the first to leave and he remembers, remembers, remembers, and it hurts so much, it makes him ache with a pain that makes him want to scream and cry for he cannot imagine the thought of having finally found his family and then having them torn from him, one by one, he hurts so much and surely God cannot be so cruel that he snatches their dreams, snatches the only people he knows he will ever love away—

And then he finds peace. Because as he bleeds out, he hears a voice, clear as the dawn drawing above the new day, cry out Long live the republic! and it is Grantaire, and he can almost hear Enjolras smile when he hears what he knows is the final report resounding, and in Combeferre’s eyes there is a sort of divine trust as his eyes remain affixed to where he believes he will find salvation, and there is a sort of tranquility in Courfeyrac’s eyes, and he sees the way Joly and Bossuet are still looking to each other even in death, and he thinks of how Jehan went out exactly as he wished, with strong words on his tongue, and he thinks of Bahorel’s fighting spirit and how he died doing what he thought was right.

His hand grows damper and hotter as his blood seeps out quicker and quicker.

The world may not remember their names in history—but Feuilly knows they will have a permanent place in his.

Like Combeferre, he casts his eyes towards heaven, and he thinks he can see Bahorel hold out his hand like he did eight years ago.

He can’t wait to have his life change again.

And Feuilly falls with a smile.

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demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol · 4 years ago

Text

Bedtime Reassurances

[image credit to @aloneandblueascanbe, pls let me know if you want it removed!]

pairing: frankie morales x gn!reader

words: 1.8k

content: one innuendo / reference to sex so 18+ only please, job related anxiety, mentions of a pandemic, one bad word, i switch from present and past tense sorry, another comfort fic but at this point is anyone surprised, soft gentle touches, verbal affirmations, frankie just being the best most encouraging bf in the world

a/n: okay so this is very similar to the other frankie fic i wrote, but i actually wrote this one first and this one has some lines that im really proud of, so i figured i’d share this one anyways!! i hope y’all enjoy this, and thank you so SO much to everyone who read my first frankie fic, seriously i cannot believe how much interest it got and i am constantly blown away by how incredible y’all are 💜💜💜 p.s. my taglists are a mess rn so don’t feel obligated to interact, and pls speak up if you want to be added or removed!

Frankie hums under his breath a little as he walks up the stairs. The two of you had just finished watching a new movie and his spirits were pretty high (although part of that might have been because of your reactions to the movie- your laughter, your smiles, your head bobbing to the catchy music). He flicked off the hallway light before entering you room, at which he promptly paused at seeing you perched on the bed wiping your eyes.

“Sweetheart?” he questions, and you look over at him before sitting up and blinking furiously. “Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He quickly takes a few steps over to you, but his hands hover by your sides to gauge your reaction to his sudden nearness before moving forward to slide them around your back. The last thing he wanted to do was move too fast and cause you to flinch.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine, I was just-,” you cut yourself off to take a stuttery inhale and a shaky exhale. “Just thinking, it’s not even related to anything.” Frankie tilted his head at you sympathetically as his mouth twisted into a small smile.

“If it has you this upset, I know it’s not nothing,” he paused, giving you a moment to process his words. “[y/n]” he whispered, and at hearing your name you look up to meet his eyes. “It’s me,” he said, with nothing but love and concern in his eyes. “You can talk to me. Please.” You blinked at him a couple times, and took a deep breath.

“I, um,” you stuttered and turned your eyes down, and you felt Frankie’s hand rub up and down your back. After a few deep breaths, you spoke. “I just started thinking about work again, and job hunting has been so stressful. And it all seems so scary. And I know it’s not, and I know I’m overthinking it, but I’m just so tired of starting over. And I’m just tired of not feeling good enough. And I’m sure these feelings are way too complicated over just a new job, but I’m just tired of constantly doing different things, and I know this is just the adjustment period making me feel this way, but I just want to be good at something, just one thing, and just do that one thing long enough to actually feel good about how I do that thing,” you paused to take a few deep breaths and at some point during your rambling you must have grabbed onto Frankie because both of your hands were gripping the front of his shirt. You loosened your grip a little and in response he held you a little tighter. As you met Frankie’s eyes for the first time, you couldn’t help but let out the small whimper at the pure understanding and love from him. It’s still so hard to believe that someone could look at you like that even in such a state. He brought one of his hands up to cup your cheek, and the other one wrapped around your waist.

“I’ve got you,” he said, and there was no way to not believe him when he was looking at you like that. “Just let it all out.”

“I’m afraid, but I’m also tired of being afraid, and I’m tired of not being good enough, and I’m just tired,” you laughed a little, even as tears filled your eyes. “I just want to be good enough.” Frankie’s heart cracks at your words, and as your eyes fill with tears, he feels his eyes start to sting too.

“Mi corazón. I promise you, every single person around you can see just how hard you’re trying. I know sometimes it’s hard for you to see, but every day I am in awe of just how much you do.” He sees your face scrunch up in the telltale way when you try to argue with him, so he tilts down to give you a soft kiss, and when he pulls away he can tell that put you in enough of a daze for him to keep going without you interrupting. “Despite what you struggle with, you get up and you help others, and you work on bettering yourself as a person, and you get stronger and kinder and more loving every single day. And every day I am beyond thankful that you let me into your life, that I get to be with you in the big moments and in the small moments, that I get to experience life through your eyes, because you see the world in such a way that it makes me feel so so young.” That gets a small smile from you, and now Frankie feels like he’s on a roll. “You’re kind to me and you’re kind to strangers and you’re even learning to be kind to yourself. You’re taking on the challenge of becoming a better person while also going after a new job while also doing it during a freaking pandemic.” Your breath hitches at that and while he doesn’t want to upset you, he never wants to upset you, he needs you to know this. “You think you’re behind everyone but you are leagues ahead in areas that some people aren’t gonna realize are important until years from now. And you’re doing that in a world where that isn’t the normal. And baby I am so proud of you,” he chokes up a little at that, and he sees worry creep up into your eyes as your hands come up to cup his cheeks, and ever so gently stroke the spot just below his eyes, already ready to wipe away any tears that might stray. “You are a wonderful person, a wonderful friend, and an even more wonderful lover. And I want you to go to bed, and wake up, and spend every minute of every day knowing that I love you so much and that there is so much good in you, and that you are stronger than any of your fears or anxieties or reservations, and that if you ever feel stuck I will always-,” he bumps his forehead against yours and he looks at you so head on that in that moment you feel he is looking straight into you, that he really does see everything he says he does, “-always, be right there by your side helping you out of the situation because I. Love. You.”

The first thing you noticed were his hands on your face, mostly because the pressure had increased, not in an uncomfortable way, just in a more noticeable way. And then you noticed the way his chest was moving, like saying everything he did genuinely winded him. And then you noticed his eyes, which if your being honest was probably the first thing you noticed because there’s no way not to: their deep, rich color with more depth than any other eyes you’ve ever seen, the almost imperceptible sparkle to them, because somehow this man’s eyes just sparkle, and the way that his eyes are the definition of love and compassion and trust, because there is no other way to describe them.

“Oh my gosh,” you whisper, because how on earth do you respond to that? As you wrap your arms around the back of his neck again and drag him down to kiss him, he pulls you closer as your lips touch and you press further into him because the need to have him so impossibly close is overwhelming. He breaks away for only a second before leaning back in, and he tilts you back to deepen the kiss. Your legs come up to wrap around his and he lowers you slowly all the way down onto the bed. When you break away you keep your hands firmly locked around the back of his head, keeping his forehead pressed to yours as you both catch your breath. “I love you so much,” you finally say, keeping your eyes locked on his. “I love you so dang much and sometimes I still can’t believe you’re here, with me, in our house, with me.”

“You better believe it baby, cuz there’s no getting rid of me,” his mouth cracking into a lazy smile as he nudges his strong nose against yours.

“Never,” you say, much more seriously than his joking tone warrants, but you need him to know, especially after everything he said. “I never want to get rid of you. I need you. I love you.” His eyes soften and while his teasing tone leaves, his smile never does.

“You’ll make it through this sweetheart, I promise. I’m here every step of the way.”

You beam at him, “Thank you Frankie. For everything. Everything.” Your eyes start to droop and he places a quick kiss on your nose before backing away to pull down the covers. You crawl up to the pillows, barely even acknowledging your own side in favor of his. He chuckles and crosses over to the other side, and when he’s under he cuddles you close before pulling up the blanket and securing it around you. “Tomorrow’s a new day, and somebody needs their beauty sleep to tackle their to do list.” You hum contentedly, wrapping your arms around him and slotting your head under his chin. His arms wrap around yours as he presses a kiss to your forehead and noses your hair.

“Well, you are definitely on my to do list because holy shit someone deserves some good sex for what you said,” you half mumble under your breath, and as Frankie breaks into a laugh he tries not to jostle you too much, but you caught him off guard and now he’s pretty much full on laughing, in the way that makes your heart clench a little because you love him and his beautiful laugh so dang much, the laugh that gives you so much pride because you’re the one that made it happen. When he settles down he pulls away slightly to look at you, and you are positively beaming at him, clearly proud of that joke you were able to come up with half asleep.

“Well there’s my [y/n],” he says in that deep raspy voice that only makes you smile more. He leans in to give your forehead a slow kiss.

“Thanks for finding me,” you whisper as you look up at him.

“Ehh, you’ve trusted me with most of your hiding spots, so I’ve gotten pretty good.” You prop yourself up on your elbow and place your hand on the side of his face to get a good look at him.

“But seriously Frankie, thank you. You always know exactly what to say, and I am so unbelievably grateful for you in so many ways.” His face goes as soft as he turns to give your palm a soft kiss, and you lean in one more time to kiss him properly before resuming your position. He gives you a gentle squeeze and it isn’t long until you’re drifting off to sleep in the arms of your love.

tag list: @keeper0fthestars, @scribbledghost, @icanbringyouincold, @bestintheparsec-reads, @ezrasarm, @andriecastana, @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo, @murdermewithbooks, @remmysrecs, @lv7867

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x gn!reader #frankie morales #triple frontier #my writing #once again i am asking yall HOW YALL COME UP WITH TITLES CUZ I SAT HERE FOREVER THINKING OF ONE LOL #maybe this isn't the best time to post this but im tiring of just looking at it in my drafts #why is posting fic so uncomfy ahsfjkdshfjks #ANYWAYS ENJOY <3

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laviefantasie · 4 years ago

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One Step at a Time

Warnings: School Shooting, death, PTSD

Summary: It was supposed to be just another normal day at school. Just 8 hours, 480 minutes, of learning before Julie and you went to the Molina’s studio and spend the day with the guys. It was supposed to be just another normal school day... but it wasn’t.

Pairings: Ghost!Luke Patterson x Alive!Reader

A/N I did as much research as I could about the subject, I won’t get it 100% right since thankfully I’ve never experienced this but I feel it is a subject that should be talked about more. Stay safe!

| MASTERLIST |

120 Hours After the Shooting

A gasp leaves your body as you sit up while holding back a scream. You feel the sweat dripping down your skin as your eyes take in your surroundings, it takes you a minute to fully recognize your room as your blurry vision finally settles.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and you jump out of your bed, scared. Looking towards the source you find the hazel eyes of the lead guitarist on Julie’s band.

He looks at you with worry as he slowly starts crawling towards you, his steps were wary as if afraid you’d run out of the room any second.

He opens and closes his mouth repeatedly, he is talking to you, yet you cannot hear. Your ears numb to the sounds around you.

As you feel breathing becoming a harder task your eyes fall to your hands, wondering to yourself when will this ever stop?

How could this be your life now?

2190 Hours Before the Shooting

You walked behind Carrie to the auditorium with your blue wig on and an excited smile on your face. All the Dirty Candy girls following their leader with the nerves filling their bodies.

After many days of long hours of rehearsals, you girls were finally showing what you had worked so hard to accomplish.

As you entered the auditorium a student member of the illuminating staff bumps into you nearly throwing you to the ground. Thankfully, he catches you.

“I’m so so sorry, Y/N”

You brush yourself trying to get rid of any possible dirt in your costume before giving him a kind smile.

“Everything good here, uh...”

You stop talking as soon as you realize that you don’t remember the name of the guy you had surely seen in at least two of your classes. He notices that and the smile that had appeared on his face soon falls.

As you’re about to apologize for your bad memory, Carrie screams for you to hurry up, so with one apologetic smile you leave.

It is through the performance of Wow that your eyes catch sight of Julie and three more guys by her side. You make sure to send her a smile when she catches your eyes, nostalgia over your lost friendship suddenly making an appearance.

730 Hours Before the Shooting

Your life had definitely changed for the better, as bizarre as it was now. Two months ago you had decided to fix your friendship with Julie -three ghosts being a much needed push- while also getting to know three kind -formerly mentioned- ghosts.

You and the guys were close, probably as close as you had become with Flynn and as you once were -and thankfully were again- with Julie.

Luke and you had bonded over songwriting. Both of you making the songs for Julie and the Phantoms, something Julie liked to tease you about a lot especially when she noticed that your usual roll of eyes had turned into a deep red blush.

Of course becoming friends with Julie had put a strain on your friendship with Carrie. The strawberry blonde snapping at you at every possible opportunity yet never truly hurting you as you were her best friend.

Either way, after the growth of Julie’s band, the realization that the boys had to cross over, them playing at the Orpheum to fulfill their unfinished business, them discovering playing at the Orpheum wasn’t their unfinished business, and then their love for one another saving them from ceasing to exist and somehow becoming tangible to both Julie and you while also gaining the new ability to be seen as far as they concentrated deeply. You had learned to appreciate the little gifts of the universe more and more.

You were accepting everything it was throwing at you because so far you had loved the unexpected things it had sent.

You were in a happy place. Julie was in a happy place. So were the boys and the Molina’s. And even if she didn’t voice it, you knew Carrie was too, the strawberry blonde too proud to admit she missed Julie and hoped she could soon get close to through you.

Things were good. Nothing could hurt you guys, everything was perfect.

336 Hours Before the Shooting

Julie and the Phantoms and Dirty Candy had a gig. More importantly, the same gig. A concert was being held at the Hollywood Bowl to showcase young artists and both bands had been accepted.

It was a huge opportunity.

So as expected, none of them so one another during the week they got the news as all were too invested in rehearsing to give out the best performance they could. This event could be life changing.

But you could only spend so much time apart from songwriting -especially if it was with a certain ghost-, so you and Luke had decided to meet every two days at your room at night to write new songs. None of you could use them for the presentation though as it wouldn’t be fair to the other.

After your third meeting, Luke had accidentally asleep on your bed with you -the need for sleep being a consequence of using the newly found powers too much- and soon it became a habit that whenever he came he would stay.

So your relationship grew. And you loved that as much you denied it, Julie’s knowing smirk always reminding you that no one believed it.

Even Carrie knew you had a crush, the strawberry blonde making sure to mention it on the next Dirty Candy rehearsal.

“I want everyone on their very best. We have to be the best performance there” she reminds them for the hundredth time “I want your concentration the following weeks on the performace. Understood, Y/N? No cute guitarists”

The blush and glare you sent your best friend’s way was enough to make a smirk appear on her face and her eyes to soften before ending the break and starting rehearsals once again.

168 Hours Before the Shooting

You smiled as Carrie laughed loudly, proud to have been the one who made the smile appear on her face. You were the only one -after Julie- that had ever been able to make her smile like that, though the smiles Julie got were always followed by a small blush.

The two of you were having your weekly sleepover. Both of you having stated since the start of high school that every week, no matter how busy they were, they would give one day to sleep at either house to catch up. It was a good way to keep the strong bond you two had while also letting go of the problems and stress you adquire during the week.

This time both of you found yourselves in Y/N’s empty house. It wasn’t uncommon knowledge that Y/N’s widowed mother was working -as she was a surgeon, her father being one too when he was alive- so she mostly spent the nights by herself.

Carrie, being Trevor Wilson’s daughter, had also spent months alone with his father going on tours or spending hours at the recording studio. You both had basically grown up with nannies, you had it better though since it was only after your father’s dead that the nannies appeared.

That’s why Rose Molina’s death had hit you both almost as hard as it had hit Julie. You had both loved her deeply, seeing her as a mother figure. The Molina’s always having their house opened for the both of you, something you’d both be forever thankful for.

The fight between Julie and Carrie had been nasty and big, both refusing to ever mentioning the details, which left you and Flynn to take side neither wanting to leave either alone. Of course, when the time came you went with Carrie as she trusted you the most -her and Flynn never seeing eye-to-eye as the strawberry blonde’s crush for the cute singer grew-.

So, as you both laughed while the movie Five Feet Apart played in your room’s television was completely ignored by you both, you couldn’t help but be grateful for the girl sitting in front of you. Even though Carrie had this bad spoiled rich girl persona for the people around them to see, inside she was just an insecure kind-hearted girl who just wanted someone to care.

The laughter soon dies as you both look at each other with soft smiles, the strawberry blonde’s smile falling as she gazes at your door with a sad look in her face. The silence settling between the two.

“Do you think someone’d notice if we were gone?” She asks softly as if she was afraid of the answer.

“Of course” Your answer is quick, without hesitation.

Her brown sad eyes soon stare at you, “Would they notice if I was gone?”

The questions doesn’t catch you off guard as you often knew your best friend’s fear of being forgotten. She didn’t have a close group of friends. It had always been Carrie, Julie, and Y/N. Somewhere along the way Flynn joined, but otherwise it had always been the three of you. And then, it was you two. Nick soon joined you both but after the breakup he had been acting weird. So, Carrie only had you. She loved the girls from her group but other than Kayla she didn’t actually get along with them. So it was only Y/N.

“They would” Y/N answers without hesitation, “More importantly, I would”

That’s enough to bring the smile back to the face of the leader of Dirty Candy, her soon tackling you in a hug. Laughter filling the emptiness of your house once again.

48 Hours Before the Shooting

To say all of you were nervous was an understatement. That Saturday was the event at the Hollywood Bowl, so the two groups had been rehearsing nonstop and trying on outfits. Everything had to be perfect.

Dirty Candy was performing a new song called Sweet Melody at said event, featuring Y/N’s voice alongside Carrie’s. All the members had been surprised when their leader had given the idea, saying the chorus was better suited for your range, but neither had complained as they had loved your voice.

That’s why as you opened the door to your locker, your mouth was mouthing the lyrics in complete concentration. You were nervous of forgetting the words and freezing on stage, so you practice as much as you could.

Getting your Algebra II book out you head to your class, smiling once you see Julie and going to sit beside her. Soon both of you start talking, only stopping once the teacher walks in and starts her class.

You have a bored expression on your face as you copy what Mrs. Matthews writes on the board, only to have your attention caught by a boy entering the class completely out of breath.

“Mr. Rogers, glad you could join us” ironizes your teacher.

You look at the boy with pity, though you soon recognize it as the one you bumped into when you were on your way to perform at the school’s pep rally. Rogers, so that was his name.

“I don’t care whatever your excuses are” States Mrs. Matthews, “This is the fourth time you’re late, so please go to the principal’s office”

As soon as you see the angry look on his face you let your gaze wander to your songbook, not in the mood to watch him fight with the teacher. You keep your concentration on the song you were currently writing.

That is until the loud slam of the door makes your head snap up, your eyes finding Mrs. Matthews’ shocked face. Your eyes find Julie’s to find the girl as lost as you as she has been doodling on her notebook.

Class continues and the bell soon rings letting you know it is time for lunch, Julie and you walking side by side.

“I read the song your mom wrote, by the way,” You add seeing her eyes light up as you mention it “It is truly amazing, Jules, it is a very powerful song”

“I’m so glad you finally read it” She smiles, “I was thinking maybe we could duet it someday? It would definitely be cool, don’t you think?”

You smile softly before turning it into a smirk, “Julie and the Phantom’s leader with Y/N Y/L/N from Dirty Candy, sounds interesting”

She nudges you with an amused look before you both enter the cafeteria laughing. None of the students making noise in the cafeteria notice the angry looking kid sitting alone at one of the last tables.

How much would’ve things changed if someone had noticed?

10 Minutes Before the Shooting

Friday couldn’t have come sooner, both groups excited for the concert that was happening the next day. Though, that day seemed to be everlasting as you and Carrie walked to your last class of the day, the only class you both had with Julie and Flynn: Music.

As you make a quick stop to your locker to grab the music sheets for the song you were presenting today, Luke appears beside you making you let out a strangled scream.

“You need to stop that, Lu” You whisper while eyeing your surroundings, “Otherwise I’ll end up joining you on the other side soon”

The guitarist laughs at your joke before leaning on the locker beside your own, a soft smile on his face.

“Nervous about tomorrow?”

You close your locker before making your way to music class, Luke soon walking beside you.

“Totally” you breathe out, “We’re going to be in front of thousands of people, thousands, Luke. Thi-this is HUGE”

The boy smiles excitedly, “I cannot believe it is happening either but I can’t wait. I’m so excited to rehearse today one last time”

“Me too, Dirty Candy’s routine is going to make the crowd go wow”

Luke lets out an exaggerated groan as he hears your lame joke referring to one of your band’s songs, a smile soon adorning his features.

“You’re coming to reahearsal today, right? Songwriting session after?”

“Songwriting session after” You promise before entering your classroom, the ghost soon disappearing to go to the Molina’s studio.

You take your seat besides Carrie, not missing Julie’s teasing smirk sent your way as she caught Luke before he poofed out. You roll your eyes at her with a small smile before paying attention to Mrs. Harrison’s lesson.

Not even two minutes later, a loud bang sounds throughout the school. The loud noise echoing in each classroom making every student freeze in confusion.

Another loud noise soon follows before the screams start. Mrs. Harrison soon jumps to action going to lock the classroom door.

“Everybody down! Against the walls! Cover your heads!” She whispers loudly as she turns off the lights, “Boys, help me move the desks in front of the door”

Everyone soon moves to do as told. Carrie, Julie, Flynn, and Y/N soon snuggling in a corner together, the four of you staring wide-eyed at one another as you feel the fear of the unknown crawling through your bodies.

You listened to the hurried steps of students running through the hallways as more screams pierce through the halls. Gunshots echoing.

“Now, I know this is scary and I know you’re confused, kids,” whispers Mrs. Harrison, “but I need you all to start sending texts to anyone outside of school. We need to make sure the authorities know what is happening”

You feel tears start sliding down your cheeks as your confusion turns into panic, your heart beating fastly in your chest as you grab your phone with your shaky hands. Out of the corner of your eye you see your best friends soon doing the same.

Everyone too scared to say something, the only sound being the muffled sobs that everyone lets out. Your breathing stops once you hear Julie’s ringtone sound loudly, the girl soon quieting it down.

“Everyone keep your phones on silence, no one needs to know we are here” their music teacher reminds them, “Remember every drill we’ve had, you have to follow three simple steps: Run, Hide, and as a last resource Defend”

Your clean your tears with your shaking hand as you try to stop the blurriness of your vision only to have more tears appear, you feel Julie take your hand and interlocking your fingers with hers.

“I’m scared” She whispers.

You look at her with tears blurring your vision, your face saying what you can’t, as somehow you can’t seem to find your voice. Another gunshot, this one closer than before, tears through the halls making you all let out strangled screams. Carrie jumping to your side -the one not occupied by Julie- and Flynn jumping to Julie’s.

The four of you staying close as tears stream down all of your faces.

From where you’re hiding you cannot see your classmates nor Mrs. Harrison’s, the soft cries being the only thing that makes you know they are there.

Another piercing scream followed by a gunshot tear through the school, the four of you letting out silent sobs. You grab your phone with shaky hands before typing fastly a text to your mom.

If anything happens, mom, I love you. -Y/N

You close your eyes as you try to calm your breathing, the thumping of your heart echoing in your ears. Another gunshot. You jump in your place with your eyes still close and a strong hold on both of your best friends.

Another gunshot and soon the doorknob jiggles, letting everyone know someone is trying to open the door. Everyone in the music room holds their breath as fear crawls through their skins.

All the laughs, the smiles, the tears, the moments you spent by your dad’s bed at the hospital, the rehearsals with the band, the sleepovers with Carrie, the time spent with Julie and Flynn, the moments you spent at the Molina’s studio, the songwriting with Luke. Everything comes crashing down.

The door is hit with force, the person trying to get in trying to make the door budge. You bite your lip hard to stop the scream that wants to make its way out of your throat.

The door is pushed one more time before steps resonate letting you all know the person is leaving. You let out a shaky breath, tears flowing neverending down your cheeks.

“I’m so so sorry, Julie” Whispers Carrie, “I’m sorry about our fight, I’m sorry for not letting you apologize and for pushing you away, I’m sorry for making Y/N and Flynn take sides, I’m sorry for taking Nick, and I’m sorry for never telling you I loved you”

You stared at the strawberry blonde with red puffy wide eyes, Carrie looking scared to death as she says what she had been keeping herself from saying this last year. Tears stream down her pale face as silent sobs shake her small body.

Julie moves quietly to get closer to her to hug her, both girls shaking in fear as they reconcile. Flynn moves to the spot Julie once resided, taking Y/N’s hand. Everyone crying softly as they wait for someone to tell them it’s okay to come out.

None of you know how long you stay there until there is a knock on the door making you all freeze with fear.

“This is L.A. P.D., everything is okay now. Is anyone in there?”

You all let out a breath of relief. Y/N closing her eyes as she lets out a loud sob, soon everyone crying their hearts out as they are soon escorted out of the room.

You hear the police ask for everyone to raise their hands, soon everyone doing as told, and to not look at your surroundings. Soon all of you being escorted to the outside in a line, though you can’t stop your eyes from drifting through the hallway once catching sight of all the blood.

You take a shaky breath as you feel the tears still flowing down your face.

The four girls hug each other tightly as they walk out into the school ground. All of your eyes taking their time to adjust to the bright sun. Faintly, you hear the police tell you all to not look back and decide to obey them this time as the glimpses of the blood and the bodies you saw inside were enough to have you struggling to breathe.

“Dad!” You hear Julie screaming in relief before detaching from all of you and running to his father’s arms.

It is when you see them hugging that your blurry eyes catch sight of your heartbroken mother, who soon runs to get to you with relief washing over her. It is until you are in her arms that the world around you starts spinning again.

The sounds become clearer and so does your vision as the pressure of everything finally leaves your body, sobs shaking your body in the safety of your mother’s arms. Out of the corner of your eyes you see Flynn and Carrie reuniting with their own parents as well as many other students.

But as you see reunions, you soon see the heartbreaking faces of realization and the agonizing screams of the losses of their children. Your sobs becoming louder.

Your mother soon falling with you to the floor as your knees give in, the weight of your body becoming too much as you try to put yourself back together. This wasn’t supposed to happen. How could this have happened? Why did it happen? Why?

96 Hours After the Shooting

Carrie, Flynn, Julie, and Y/N were cuddling together on the studio’s couch, their parents inside the Molina’s home. After the incident, the four of them had been joined to the hip only untangling themselves from the other to go sleep at their own houses.

Julie and Carrie holding hands tightly as they all stare at the wall silently with soft music playing in the background. School was closed until further noticed and you had all bailed on the concert at the Hollywood Bowl. The members of Sunset Curve watched you all carefully with heavy hearts. They all felt guilty for not being there for either of you.

Luke feeling his heart break whenever he saw a tear make its way down your face without your knowledge. None of them could ever understand the fear that any of you had felt at that moment or how it had scarred all of you.

So they just stood beside the four of you in a protective way, making sure you all knew you weren’t alone. And everynight, as the fear of closing your eyes and hearing the echoing of the shots ring through your head, Luke would poof in and lay beside you, singing a sweet lullaby to help you sleep.

Though you always woke up in a terrified daze, the guitarist soon jumping to bring you back to reality.

120 Hours After the Shooting

You feel a hand on your shoulder and you jump out of your bed, scared. Looking towards the source you find the hazel eyes of the lead guitarist on Julie’s band.

He looks at you with worry as he slowly starts crawling towards you, his steps were wary as if afraid you’d run out of the room any second.

He opens and closes his mouth repeatedly, he is talking to you, yet you cannot hear. Your ears numb to the sounds around you.

As you feel breathing becoming a harder task your eyes fall to your hands, wondering to yourself when will this ever stop?

How could this be your life now?

Silently, you stand up and head out of your room and downstairs to grab a glass of water. The sun rising through the sky to signal a new day. You gaze at it intently as you drink the water slowly, your heart calming down as it sees the beauty of it.

You weren’t okay. Neither of you was.

It would probably take a long time before either of you were completely okay, and even then the memory would haunt you. All you could do is take it one step at a time, trusting that the people who loved you would be ready to catch you if you stumbled. You were willing to do the same for the girls.

All of you would soon have to start attending the funerals of your classmates, of the people whose face you had all grown used to seeing, of people you had grown up with. You would have to be in the presence of heartbroken parents who screamed their lungs out in agony for the child they lost.

Your grip on the glass of water tightens as you feel your chest become heavier. One step at a time, you repeat in your head, one step at a time.

You feel Luke appear behind you, his arms soon wrapping around your waist as his face hides in your neck. A small smile makes its way to your face, one of your hands letting go of the glass of water to hold his arm. One step at a time, you repeated.

One step at a time.

#julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #luke patterson x oc #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #sunset curve

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starryeyes-darkestnights · 4 years ago

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Shut Up and Drive

Part 3 of We Dance Together Now

An O’Knutzy au where Leo and Logan are still playing for the Lions, but Finn is a musician they met by chance on a roadie to Montreal.

Here are the first few parts!

Part 1 - Jingle Bell Rock

Part 2 - This City

I hope you like it!!! :):)

Also, this is getting kind of crazy long, so I’m going to stick it up on AO3 too :)

These beautiful characters and their world belong to the incredible @lumosinlove

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

Finn was standing at his bathroom sink, brushing his teeth, when he heard his phone buzz in the other room. He wandered out to look for it, toothbrush hanging from his mouth. When it wasn’t immediately visible, he just shrugged and headed back to the bathroom. It was probably just his mom. She texted to say goodnight sometimes, which was adorable but didn’t require an urgent response.

But then the phone went off a second time while he was rinsing his mouth, and a third while he was pulling on his sleep pants. Definitely not his mom. Curious now, he grabbed his book off the nightstand and headed off in search of the mysterious messages. He padded out to the living room, spotting the phone on the couch and flopping down next to it just as a fourth notification went off. He scooped it up and swiped open his messages. He was surprised to see Logan’s contact come up. He figured they would be busy tonight after their game.

Logan: Finn!

Logan: FINN!

Logan: FINN ANSWER YOUR PHONE

Logan: We won!

Finn smiled at Logan’s excitement. He had actually seen the alert for the team’s win flash across his phone a few hours earlier. He’d set up notifications for Lions game results a few weeks ago, after an embarrassing evening of asking them how the game went, not knowing they had lost. He would only make that mistake once.

Finn: I saw. Congrats! 😊

Logan’s response was immediate.

Logan: You’re alive! Come celebrate with us.

Finn’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. That was unexpected. He knew that after winning games they usually went out with the guys from their team. That’s why he had gotten ready for an early night.

Finn: Aren’t you out with the team?

Logan: Yes! Leo says to tell you they’re cool if you join us. They want to see you again. They remember you from Montreal.

Finn chewed his lip, looking longingly between his book and the phone in his hand. Usually he would love to see them - the trio had become nearly inseparable over the past month - but he had been looking forward to reading tonight. He hadn’t had much opportunity since school had started back up. Plus, he had to be up early tomorrow.

Finn: Ordinarily I would be all over that. But I’m almost in bed

Logan: Your bed will still be there in a few hours!

Finn: But it looks so comfy right now.

Logan: Pleeeeaaase? Dancing isn’t fun without you any more

Finn melted a little at that one, his conviction starting to waver even as he texted back.

Finn: I don’t give in to peer pressure!

He watched the screen, waiting for an answer, when a message from Leo popped up at the top. A picture. He swiped it open, curious, and his jaw dropped.

It was a picture of Logan, taken from close up. His head was tilted, his messy curls falling over one eye, and he was pouting, his lower lip jutting out just slightly. He was looking directly into the camera, and his eyes… Finn took one look at the wide, green, puppy dog gaze, and knew he had just been made a liar. There was absolutely no way he was not going to do whatever Logan asked if this was how he asked it. He stood up and sent one final text.

Finn: Where are you?

---

Two hours later Finn was in the middle of a dance floor, sweat dripping in his eyes as he leaned over to put his hands on his knees, trying to stop laughing long enough to catch his breath.

His efforts were futile, as Logan chose that moment to expand on his interpretation of the Toosie Slide dance, one that had been getting more and more extravagant every time they heard the song at a club. As he slid dramatically across the floor, he almost knocked over a poor, unsuspecting woman. He hadn’t actually crashed into her, but it was close enough to scare her into turning toward him with a very angry look and Finn cackled as he watched Logan’s face turn from mischief to horror, nearly knocking her over a second time as he rushed to apologize. His amusement was short-lived, however, as the woman gave Logan a once-over and did a complete 180, from angry to impossibly seductive, in less than the time it took her to introduce herself. Finn looked to Leo, hoping for a distraction, only to find him in a similar position with the first woman’s friend.

Finn stood up, laughter draining quickly from his system as his smile turned wry. This was a familiar scene. Girls were not shy with Leo and Logan. And it’s not like he could blame them- he was painfully aware of how beautiful they both were. He just didn’t usually let himself get caught having to watch it. He had quickly learned to spot the girls coming before they did, to extract himself from the situation before he had to watch it unfold. This was the first time since that first night at the Burrow that he’d been caught off guard. And it was… painful. So much for keeping your feelings in check, I guess, he thought drily.

He waited for a moment, until Leo and Logan were both fully distracted, and took the opportunity to sneak away quietly, back to the table where he had been introduced to the team earlier. He slid into the seat he had previously abandoned, next to Kasey Winter, and shot him a quick smile when he welcomed him back. He pretended to be interested in the conversation he was having with Sirius Black, across from him, but his mind was elsewhere, and he jumped when a voice sounded in his ear.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He recognized Leo’s teasing voice and a small smile crept onto his face. “We lost you out there. Logan thought you might be getting a drink.”

Finn turned to look at him, taking in his dance-flushed cheeks and bright, dimpled smile. One thing he had learned after spending enough time with him, was that a genuine Leo Knut smile could light up a room. Usually that smile caused a warm glow in Finn’s chest, but right now all he could picture was the woman from the dance floor being on the receiving end of it.

Finn shook his head. “Nope, just needed a quick break.”

Leo’s brow furrowed at that, and his head tilted as he looked at Finn, assessing. His eyes flickered between Finn’s, and across his face, radiating kindness. His expression softened and he reached up to place a gentle hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Hey, are you ok?”

“Ya, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Finn tried to paste on his biggest smile, but he could tell Leo wasn’t fully convinced.

“Are you sure? You know you can talk to me, right? I –“

Whatever Leo was going to say was cut off by Logan returning to the table, loudly. Finn took a second to thank whatever divine intervention had prevented him from having to come up with an excuse for his moping, before turning his attention to what appeared to be a very passionate argument between Logan and Thomas Walker.

“I’m just saying Talkie, that can’t possibly be true.”

“Logan. Explain to me why it cannot be true.”

“No! You explain to me why it can be true!”

Finn caught on to what Logan was doing. He had seen him try it before, on Leo, and on himself a few times as well. But it had never worked.

“It was on the Discovery Channel Tremz! Why would they lie?”

“I’m not saying they’re lying, I’m just saying you haven’t convinced me that they’re telling the truth.”

Thomas’ jaw dropped at that one, disbelief on his face. “Logan, I-, what?? That’s- this is ridiculous! Aardvarks exist! Fucking Google them!”

Logan just shook his head cheerfully, popping a cheese fry into his mouth. “Nah.”

“Aargh!”

Finn couldn’t help but laugh at Thomas’ exasperated face as he stood from the table. “I’m going to the washroom. I can’t handle you right now.” He gave Logan a playful shove in the back of the head as he walked behind him.

Logan just laughed into his drink, looking smug.

“So,” Finn picked up his own drink, “is antagonizing your friends on purpose a personal hobby?”

“No.” “Yes.”

Logan and Leo spoke over one another.

Finn looked between them, amused, as Logan pretended to be offended.

Leo just looked at Logan, eyebrows raised and a corner of his mouth pulled up affectionately. “Getting people worked up is Logan’s favourite game, but he’ll pretend he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kasey, overhearing, leaned back over to Finn. “We’ve all just learned to ignore it. Talkie’s the only one he can still get to.”

Finn chuckled at that. “You know aggravating people on purpose isn’t very nice, right?” He cocked his head at Logan.

Logan just smiled innocently. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Leo gestured pointedly toward him. “See?”

Just then, there was a flurry of movement from the other end of the table as people started getting ready to go. As the three of them stood together to join them, Finn was reminded of something.

“Hey, before I forget, you guys have tomorrow off right?”

Leo nodded, shoving his arms through his jacket sleeves. “Ya, we do. What are we doing?”

Finn loved that it had become natural for them to just assume they would be doing something together on a day off. He started walking backward toward the door of the bar and grinned at the other two as they followed.

“We, my friends, are going on an adventure. Dress for being outside, and be ready at 9am sharp.”

---

At exactly 9 o’clock the next morning, Finn watched as Logan yanked open the door to his car and flopped into the front seat. His hair tousled, eyes bleary, he leaned back against the headrest with a groan. “Whyyy are we awake right now Finn?” His voice was still raspy from sleep. “Early bird gets the worm!” Finn chirped back at him with a smile. He gave a noncommittal grunt, but perked up as Finn passed him a coffee.

He took a sip, eyes closed. “Mmmmm. Ok you’re forgiven.”

“You’re welcome. Are you awake now? I need you to tell me how to get to Leo’s place.”

Finn had picked up the two of them from Logan’s place a few times over the past couple of weeks, swinging by on his way home from campus and driving them to his place to play video games or to Sid’s for dinner. He knew Leo didn’t live at Dumo’s too, but he had never actually picked him up from his own house.

“Why didn’t you pick him up first?” Grumbled Logan, his eyes still half closed as he tried to stifle a yawn.

“I picked you up first because I know where you live, and you know where Leo lives. It’s called logic. Now give me directions, Sir Yawns-a-Lot. We have places to be!”

“Mmm.” Logan grunted back in his still sleep-rasped voice. “I actually don’t remember where he’s staying right now, let me give him a call.”

Finn furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What? Where he’s staying right now? Does he not always stay in the same place?”

But Logan waved him off as Leo picked up the phone, and Finn was left to wonder impatiently for the short duration of the call.

“Ok, he’s downtown. At the Hogwarts Hotel, right across from the arena. It’s like 5 minutes from here. You know it?”

“Yeees…” Finn dragged the word out, still trying to piece this together. “… can I ask why he’s at a hotel?”

It was Logan’s turn to look confused. “He’s always at a hotel? He’s a rookie, that’s usually what happens.”

Finn was caught off guard. “Seriously? Like for the whole year? Did you do that too?”

“Ya, I guess for the whole year. And no, I didn’t do it. I got really lucky the year I came, Dumo had an open room. He invited me to billet and I’ve just never left. They’re like a second family to me now.” He paused, running his finger around the lid of his coffee cup.

“I feel really bad for Leo though. It was hard enough coming here when I had Dumo’s family to rely on, I don’t know how he’s doing it.” He shook his head, looking up at Finn. “He tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him, bouncing around between hotel rooms, but you can tell he’s homesick sometimes, you know? I try and drag him over here to crash on my floor when he looks really down, but it’s still just another strange place for the night.”

Finn nodded. He knew how hard it had been for him moving to Gryffindor- the loneliness he had felt, exhausted from working hard all day and dreading coming home to an empty apartment. He had spent many sleepless nights talking himself out of dropping out and moving back home to his parents, his brother. June. It was during that time he had written This City, the song he had played at the Burrow the first time Leo and Logan came to see him play.

He thought about how Leo had responded to his explanation that the song had been about moving to Gryffindor. It wasn’t a happy song. Finn didn’t like that Leo could relate to it.

He put the car in drive, mulling an idea around in his brain as he headed to Gryffindor Hotel.

---

Leo

Leo sat in the middle of the backseat of Finn’s car, watching the roads they passed and trying to discern where exactly they were headed. So far all he could tell was that whatever they were doing, they weren’t doing it in downtown Gryffindor. He didn’t like not knowing things, it made him feel on edge. He sighed, deciding to try one more time. “Finn. We’ve been driving for fifteen minutes. Are you going to tell us where we’re going yet?”

“Actually, yes!”

Well, that was pleasantly unexpected. Finn had been denying Logan an answer since before Leo had even gotten in the car.

“Just one second…”

Leo watched from the backseat as Finn checked his blind spot, merged off of the entrance ramp, and…

“Ta-da!”

Leo looked outside the window. They were on a freeway. Was Finn… excited about the freeway?

He shared a glance with Logan, who looked equally confused.

“Finn,” Logan started slowly, “what do you mean ‘ta-da’? Is this where we are going? The freeway? You said to bring clothes for outside. We can’t go outside when there are cars driving by at 80 miles per hour.”

Finn was unphased. “The freeway is our gateway to adventure, boys.” He explained cheerfully. “Everyone knows a road trip doesn’t begin until you get onto a highway.”

“We’re going on a road trip?” Leo’s interest was piqued. “A road trip to where?”

“I’m glad you asked!”

“We’ve asked ten times and you ignored us. NOW you’re glad?” asked Logan incredulously.

“Yes,” Finn explained patiently, “because I couldn’t tell you before. Not until the road trip started. Remember the rules of the list?”

“We decided that was bullshit!”

“You decided it was bullshit. I never agreed.”

Logan opened his mouth to retort, and Leo decided it was time to interject. “The road trip started now. Can you please tell us?”

He watched Finn’s smile through the rear-view mirror. Leo rarely had the opportunity to observe Finn like this, without him noticing, and he was trying not to make it obvious that he was taking advantage. But they were headed East, and the morning sun that came through the windshield was drawing out these tiny gold flecks in his wide brown eyes, and Leo couldn’t look away. He was just thinking that he wanted to see those flecks up close when Finn suddenly met his gaze in the mirror. He jerked his eyes away immediately, cursing himself as his heart skipped a beat. Then he realized that just made him look even more guilty, so he looked back up and raised his eyebrows at Finn, pretending that he had just been looking at him to hear his answer.

Finn held out for a dramatic pause before responding smugly. “I have found us the perfect adventure.”

Logan groaned, and Finn glanced over at him, sticking out his tongue. Leo noticed his cheeks had a flush that matched his own. He must have realized Leo was staring. Fuck.

The smug look fell away when he spoke again, and he sounded almost nervous. “So, there’s this town called Ilvermorny, over on the coast. I heard about it a while ago from a customer at the Burrow, apparently people love to go there because it’s super beautiful and you can walk around and explore the whole place in a day.”

Logan looked over at him, interested. “Sounds cool.”

Finn looked relieved for a second, and then an excited grin took back over. “I’m glad you think so. But that’s not the best part.” He wiggled his eyebrows excitedly. “I have received some excellent intel, that not only is this place all picturesque and shit, but, Leo…” he waited for Leo to meet his eyes in the mirror again. “They also have THE best authentic Cajun food this side of Louisiana.”

Leo felt his jaw drop, and he couldn’t stop the huge smile that he felt stretching across his face. He’s been so homesick for the food his mom made for him back in New Orleans. He leaned forward between the front seats. “Are you serious? Finn. Are you for real?”

Finn just laughed, eyes on the road.

“Logan!” Leo turned to Logan, who had one corner of his mouth quirked up into an amused smile as he watched Leo’s excited reaction. “If this is real- and I swear to god Finn this better be real or I might actually cry- I can finally introduce you to food from home.”

He flopped back into his seat, his mouth already watering at the thought of real, authentic Cajun food. “Not having a kitchen has been absolutely killing me in Gryffindor. I miss the food from home so much.”

Logan turned back to look at him, surprised. “Really? You’ve never mentioned that you like to cook.”

Leo groaned, his eyes closing. “I love to cook. I never mention it because it just makes me sad. But nothing can make me sad right now if you’ve just put shrimp étouffée on the table.”

“I have no idea what you just said, but I’m glad you’re happy.”

He heard the amusement in Finn’s voice and cracked an eye to see him flickering his eyes between the road and the mirror. “Best. Surprise. Ever.”

Finn looked so pleased, it made Leo’s heart swell.

“Now can you please talk about something else to distract me from the fact that I have to wait hours to get to this place?”

“Yes!” Logan jumped in quickly. “We can talk about what the hell this road trip playlist is.”

Finn startled, glancing over at Logan. “What do you mean?”

“What are we listening to??”

Finn looked scandalized. “It’s the Eagles, Logan.”

“The Eagles?! What are you, 60 years old?”

“They’re iconic!”

“They’re old. Now give me the phone cable.”

Logan didn’t wait for Finn’s response before unceremoniously yanking the cord out of Finn’s phone and plugging in his own, scrolling through his music library.

Finn wasn’t done defending his choices. “Being old doesn’t make you less iconic! Plus, I like the way they write. And so do like, a hundred million other people! We can’t all be wrong!”

Logan finally stopped scrolling and interrupted the incensed redhead. “Hey, Finn?”

Finn glanced over one more time. “What?”

Logan just grinned, and pressed play. The opening notes of Rihanna’s ‘Shut Up and Drive’ filled the car and Leo just smiled and shook his head as Finn’s offended spluttering was drowned out by the sound of electric guitar and Logan’s self-satisfied cackle.

---

When the boys arrived in Ilvermorny, it was only 11am. Finn had packed them a big breakfast for the car and they still weren’t hungry enough for a full lunch, so they decided to grab a quick snack for now and leave the restaurant for dinner. There was a bakery across the street from the Information Center they had parked beside, and as Logan headed in to get their order, Leo stood outside with Finn and looked around. Finn had been right, this was a super quaint little town, all brightly coloured shop fronts and cute wooden sidewalks. He winced as a cool wind blew by, regretting that he had chosen to wear a snapback instead of a beanie. He still wasn’t used to the winter weather here.

“Hey, trade me.”

He turned to see Finn tugging off his beanie and gave him a questioning look. “Sorry, what?”

“You’re cold already, it’s just going to get worse over the day. Give me your hat and you can have this one.”

Leo was caught off guard. “Oh, my god, Finn. No. I was the idiot who didn’t bring a proper hat. I’m not going to make you freeze your ears for my mistake.”

Finn just reached up and plucked Leo’s snapback off his head, dropping it onto his own before using both hands to pull his beanie down low over Leo’s curls. Leo immediately felt the warmth, both of the wool over his ears, and of the blush moving up his cheeks to reach the place where his skin tingled from the brush of Finn’s fingers.

Finn’s wide eyes were kind as he smiled up at Leo. “I have a hood,” he said, voice soft, “you don’t. I’ll just pull mine up if I get cold.”

“Thank you.” Leo swallowed, trying and failing to pull his gaze from where it was locked onto Finn’s. Those damn gold flecks were still there. The pull he had felt since the day he had met him had never been stronger, and he felt himself start to move closer when the chime of the bakery door startled both of them.

He spun around, cursing himself internally. Stupid, stupid. Get it together. He’s not into you. You can’t be into him.

A gust of warm air blew over him as Logan stepped out with an armful of drinks and baked goods.

“Hey guys, sorry that took a minute, they were out of chocolate croissants, so I had to get something different.” His voice trailed off as he spotted Leo’s snapback over Finn’s red locks, and his gaze shot up to where Finn’s beanie was now snug over Leo’s ears.

A strange look crossed over his face, so quickly that Leo almost thought he imagined it. But it was gone before he could figure it out, replaced by a happy smile as he handed out coffees and they set to walking.

---

Finn

The three of them spent the afternoon checking out every recommendation from a guide-book Leo had snagged from the Information Center.

They toured what was apparently one of the oldest functioning lighthouses in America, tried (and failed) to spot whales from coin operated binoculars on the winter-emptied fishing pier, and stopped to watch a local artist creating beautiful framed scenes out of ocean glass she collected herself from her front yard. Finn bought one of her pieces. “A memory!” He told Leo and Logan.

They meandered down the entire length of the boardwalk, perusing heated stalls selling local goods and goading one another into walking down to the icy shore to test the temperature of the calm ocean water. When they stuck their hands in, it was so cold that it burned. When they finally needed to warm up, they had gone back into the little town to wander in and out of the local shops, talking and joking with the owners and with one another.

When they walked out of their final store, a chocolate shop that Logan in particular had been itching to check out, the sun was just disappearing behind the cliffs overlooking the town. They must have been in there for a while. Longer than Finn had thought, for sure.

Finn stood next to Leo, who was checking out the guidebook again, and watched Logan walk out of the shop after them, a bag of carefully selected chocolates held in his hand. He took a few steps away from the building and stopped, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to pull in a deep breath of seaside air. Finn watched as he breathed out, relaxed. It was something he did often, just taking a moment to take in the fresh air after a long time inside. Finn had noticed him doing the first time they had met, back in Montreal, and it had become engrained in his mind as something quintessentially Logan.

Finn’s stomach gave a loud grumble then, and he pulled his attention from Logan to nudge Leo. “Hey. It’s getting late, no? Do you guys want to get dinner now?”

“I’ve been waiting all day for you to say that!” Leo joked. Logan came back over to join them, and Leo passed him the guidebook as he stretched his arms above his head.

“And Logan can double check, but I actually think we’ve checked off everything in that book now, so the timing is perfect.” He dropped his arms. “Let’s head over?”

Finn led the way through the cheerful streets, scanning storefront signs until he saw the one they were looking for. Feeling dramatic, he grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, bowing deeply to Leo. “After you, my Louisian Lord.” He frowned at the way the word sounded and looked up to Leo for help. “Louisianian? Louisianan?... Orleanian??”

Leo just looked at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

Finn stood and shrugged. “Maybe. But you still have to go in first. Lo and I don’t know shit about Cajun food. You need to make us look cultured.”

Leo let out a snort at that, but led them into the restaurant anyway, looking around happily as they were led to a table.

The moment they had menus in their hands, Leo immediately took to describing every dish with an over-the-top enthusiasm his composed self rarely showed, and Finn gave up reading his own menu in favour of leaning back and listening to his version of the dishes instead.

A few minutes later, Logan joined suit, closing his menu with a shake of his head.

“Nut, they should hire you to rewrite these descriptions. You make me want to eat everything.”

Leo’s eyes shined. “We should! Let’s just order a bunch of things and share them. There are so many things you need to try.”

Finn shrugged amenably. “Works for me. Will you order? I wanna go wash my hands.” He stood as Leo nodded, eyes still glued to the menu. “Get something with sausage, ok?”

Alone in the washroom, Finn sighed happily as he let the warm water run over his chilled fingers, looking up at his own reflection in the mirror and smiling dopily as he thought about how well his planned day had gone. His eyes moved up to lock on to where he was still wearing Leo’s snapback, and his smile dimmed a bit as he flashed back to the moment he had had with him this morning.

Despite having told himself regularly for the past month that he needed to keep his feelings in check, not let his heart get too attached, this was now the second day in a row that he had let himself get caught with his guard down. Somehow he was getting worse at it, instead of better.

He had a tendency to get lost in the bubble he shared with Leo and Logan whenever they were together, forgetting to remember that for them, it was different. That for them, he was just a friend. And he had still been feeling a little exposed after last night’s crushing reminder of that when he had, without thinking, pulled his own beanie over Leo’s ears that morning. Then Leo’s eyes had locked onto his with that look, that indecipherable look, and he hadn’t been able to dredge up the willpower to turn away. Or, you know. Breathe.

But, he thought to himself, smile returning, Leo hadn’t seemed to notice anything off, or if he had, he had let it go, and the rest of their day had been incredible. Only with Leo and Logan could a winter day in a beach town, of all places, be this much fun. He’d never had this kind of a friendship with anyone before. He dried his hands, wondering vaguely if this was what the characters in Friends felt like with each other. He figured if it was, then Leo and Logan must be his Ross and Chandler.

And he knew he would fight anyone, even his own heart, to ensure they could remain that way.

When Finn came back to the table Leo was just finishing up their order. As the waitress walked away, he relaxed happily back into is seat, the warm light of the restaurant lanterns caught his hair in a way that made it glow like spun gold. His eyes were shining as he looked up at Finn, his smile bright and content.

“Alright, Finn?”

“So alright. And so ready to eat.”

Logan snorted at that. “Nut just ordered half the restaurant, so I hope you’re serious about that.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Leo rolled his eyes. “I ordered a completely reasonable amount of food.”

Finn smirked as a memory resurfaced. “Mmm. Completely reasonable in the way that Logan is a ‘completely reasonable player’?”

Logan gasped at that, looking offended. “Finn! Why do you remember that!”

Finn laughed openly as he dodged the sugar packet Logan threw at him. “How could I forget you beating up Leo on the streets of Montreal?”

Logan leaned back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest and a grumpy look on his face that only made Finn laugh more. “You still haven’t come to watch a game. You have no idea how totally reasonable I am.”

“Fair enough.” Finn acquiesced, still chuckling. He caught sight of a server walking toward them with a gigantic tray of food, and his eyes widened in alarm. “But if you and Leo have the same definition of reasonable, I’m thinking it’s going to be an interesting game.”

At that, Leo followed Finn’s gaze and let out a moan so obscene that Finn was sure he would be thinking about it for days. “Oh my god, you guys. Best. Day. Ever.”

Finn just grinned and prepared himself to feast.

---

Logan

Leo ordered too much food.

Despite joking about it while he ordered it, Logan had actually been surprised when their order was dropped at the table. Leo was usually so concerned about food waste, but there had hardly been room for their plates with everything the servers delivered. He knew they were definitely not going to be able to eat it all. He had almost teased him about it, but then Leo had taken his first bite of the jambalaya that he claimed to be ‘exactly like home’, and there was no way Logan was going to say anything that might take that look off of Leo’s face.

But now, after trying to eat as much of the excessive, and admittedly, phenomenal, food as he could, Logan was feeling very full, and very much less inclined to indulge Leo’s desires, which at the moment involved ‘sitting back and letting it digest’. Absolutely not. He needed to move.

It only took a few minutes of pleading to get them standing up, and Logan led them out of the restaurant and onto the street before flipping open the guidebook. “Ok, so Finn said there’s a lookout around here somewhere that we can walk up to. They don’t have it listed as a thing to do in here but I think this is a picture of it. It looks like it’s supposed to be more for watching the sunset, but I think it’ll still be cool to look down at the town, even though it’s already dark.”

Leo voiced his agreement from where he was leaning against the wall of the restaurant. “Let’s do it. Finn, do you know how to get to it?”

“Ummm,” Finn pulled out his phone. “I don’t remember exactly, but I know it’s a trail, not a road to get up there, and it starts closer to where we parked the car.”

“Ok cool,” Logan stomped his feet against the chillier evening air, “lets go to the car then, and we can pull up a map once we’re closer. We should start moving before we get cold.”

Leo pushed off the wall as Finn tucked his phone back into his pocket, and the three of them started moving back down the sidewalk- much more sluggish than they had been before dinner. They didn’t really fit three across, and Logan let Leo and Finn pull in front of him as they talked about the history of Cajun cooking. Logan wasn’t particularly interested in the topic—he couldn’t cook, like Leo could, and he wasn’t all that interested in history, like Finn was—so he let his mind wander as he fell into step behind them.

Seeing the two of them side by side reminded him of this morning, that weird moment outside of the bakery when he had felt, for a moment, as though he was interrupting something. Between them.

It was the way they had both looked vaguely flustered, Leo taking that step back, away from Finn, that had triggered his imagination. He had brushed it off almost immediately; he knew he was projecting, letting the old feelings for Leo that he had been pushing down for so long, and the new ones he was trying desperately to avoid for Finn, make him see things that weren’t there. They had clearly just switched hats, which explained it. It was ridiculous, really, and he knew that. But…

As he walked along behind the two other boys, Logan allowed himself to picture it, just for a moment. The idea of the two of them being together. He thought it would make him sad, but he was surprised to realize that it didn’t. That he liked imagining it.

At least, he liked it until he remembered that if the two of them had each other, there wouldn’t be a place for him anymore. The thought made his heart twist. Even though he knew he would never be able to have either one of them the way he really, truly wanted them, he loved having them like this. As friends.

It was funny, he thought to himself as he watched Leo and Finn chatting casually in front of him. He and Leo had gotten along well from the time they met, but they were definitely closer now. Something about Finn and his chaotic open-heartedness had made them more open too. And as a result, they had gotten closer not just with him, but with each other as well. He would die before he would admit it, but he was glad Leo had dragged him up on that stage.

“Hello, earth to Tremzy?” Logan jolted himself out of his thoughts with a flush, realizing they had reached the car without him noticing.

“Sorry, I got distracted. What’s up?”

Finn was holding up his phone up with his usual cheerfulness, waiting for Logan to look at the map he had pulled up.

“Look, we found the trail head!”

He pointed off the side of the road, where they could just see the very top of a short sign sticking out of the snow. It was very clear that nobody else had gone up to the lookout that winter. The snow was deep and untouched.

“I’m thinking that maybe we could throw on our snow pants and give it a try? And if it turns out to be impossible, we’ll just turn around and roll back down.” Finn tilted his head at Logan and Leo, lips pulled up into an eager, hopeful smile. It was adorable. “What do you think?”

Logan couldn’t help but smile back. “Well, we brought snow pants, might as well get some good use out of them.”

---

Finn

Ten minutes later Finn could hear Logan cursing as he sank in the snow.

“Tabarnak! This is insane! Why am I in the front?? You both have longer legs than me, this snow is over my hips!” He complained.

“You’re Canadian, Tremz. I thought you would know how to handle snow.” Leo was focused on the ground in front of him, picking his way carefully through the trail Logan broke for them. “Plus,” he added thoughtfully, “this is the first time you’ve ever admitted to being short.”

Finn laughed as Logan whirled around with a glare, bending to grab a handful of snow. Leo ducked, laughing, as the snowball flew past his head.

“He’s got goalie reflexes Lo, you’re gonna have to do better than that!” Finn called up over the sounds of Leo’s bright laughter. Logan lifted a hand over his head to flip them off without turning around and they continued their trek up the hill.

By the time they reached the observation deck all three boys were panting.

“Oh my god, it’s hot.” Finn whined as he made his way over to the railing, pulling down his hood. He opened his mouth to say more, but his complaints stuck in his throat as the sight below them came into view.

“Whoa.” He breathed out the word.

He felt Leo and Logan lean against the railing next to him.

“It looks like a postcard.” Leo sounded as awed as Finn, and a quick glance at Logan showed he felt the same.

The town glowed softly below them, the warm light of the streetlamps sparkling prettily off the blanket of snow that covered every peaked roof. The lighthouse they had visited earlier that day was lit up, sending a beautiful reflection rippling through the waves of the never-ending blackness of the ocean in front of it. The moon was full, and the sky was clear, and Finn felt like they had just stepped into the fairy tale. He almost wanted to hold his breath.

The spell was broken when Leo took a step back from the railing to unwind his scarf. He looked apologetic as the other two turned to watch him. “I’m sorry guys, I’m just too hot.”

“You don’t have to apologize for being warm, Leo,” said Finn, smiling at him and taking the opportunity to look around the rest of the platform they stood on.

The observation deck was surrounded by the pristine sparkle of a fresh snowfall, and Finn suddenly had an idea. He trudged through the snow to the other side of the deck, hoisting himself up on to the railing as Logan and Leo looked on in confusion. “What are you doing?” Logan eyed him suspiciously. “I,” he grinned down at them, “am cooling off. And so are you. Come on!” He felt his smile widen as he watched the two boys look between him and the snow on the other side of the railing and connect the dots. To his surprise it was Leo who grinned and climbed up next to him first, looking back at Logan expectantly. “Absolutely not.” Logan shook his head from where he stood resolutely on the deck floor. “It’s gonna be cold.” “Come on Lo,” Finn pouted at him, “it’s not like we’re jumping in the ocean. It’s a snow pile. You have a winter clothes on. Get up here!” Leo joined in, eyes twinkling as he teased his stubborn teammate, “Come on Tremz. All your friends are about to jump off a cliff. Aren’t you gonna do it too?” Logan snorted. “The edge is on the other side of the deck. You’re going to jump ON to a cliff. And no. No, I’m not.”

“I remember saying something similarly ‘no’-like when I was being peer pressured into leaving my nice warm house yesterday.” Finn reminded him pointedly. “I’m sure you will recall how that worked out for me.” “I do.” Logan’s expression suddenly shifted into something more mischievous and his voice turned teasing. “And what made you give in, Finn?”

Finn felt his face go warm as Logan held his gaze. Was he…?

No. He was just trying to get him worked up. Leo had said Logan loved to push people’s buttons. Finn had seen Logan do it. But being on the receiving end of that look was sending a burning feeling straight down to Finn’s core, and he needed to change the subject before it became a much more noticeable problem. “I looked up the menu.” He blurted out. “They had cheese fries” Smooth. Idiot. Finn mentally facepalmed as he put on his best fake haughty expression and looked anywhere but at Logan for a moment as he reined himself in.

Thankfully, Leo came to the rescue, laughing at Finn before looking back at a now grumpy Logan, who was upset that his goading hadn’t worked. “Please Tremz?” He held out a hand, giving him a very exaggerated pout. “You know you want to jump with us.”

Logan looked back and forth between the two of them for a second before rolling his eyes and dropping his arms.

“Fine.” He sighed, resigned. “But if I get sick I’m telling coach both of you threw me in.”

Finn, calm now, beamed at Logan as he batted Leo’s hand away and climbed up on Finn’s other side. “That’s the spirit!”

“Shut up.”

But Finn could see the smile Logan was hiding now as he looked down at the untouched snow below them. “On the count of three?”

They looked between one another as Leo took the lead.

“One. Two. THREE!”

They jumped in sync, screeching as they cannonballed down into fluffy drifts.

Leo immediately scrambled to his feet, eyes sparkling with excitement as he looked down at Finn and Logan. “Again!”

Finn chuckled at that, rolling around to find his own leverage. “Alright then.”

---

The three boys spent the next hour of the evening concocting ever more complex dives into the deep snow. Finn was delighted to find that apparently when it came to snow, it was reasonable, level-headed Leo who was the instigator of the most ridiculous ideas. It was him who came up with the idea of catapulting one another off the railing, making a game of who could knock the snow from the highest branches.

After one final jump, which brought him absolutely nowhere near the record-holding branch, Finn let himself flop backward into the snow, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. “My entire body is exhausted.” He groaned. “How do you guys do this for a living?”

Leo and Logan joined him on the ground as Leo responded to him, amusement in his voice. “You really need to come and watch a game if you think this is what we do for a living.”

Finn just laughed. “I meant the exerting yourself part, not the jumping in the snow part. I’m not completely oblivious.”

“Mmhmm. Whatever you say, O’Hara.” Logan was smiling as he leaned back to join Finn looking up at the sky.

Leo laid down on Finn’s other side and the three of them stayed in comfortable silence for a few moments, catching their breath again.

Finn could see their faces in his periphery, the moonlight glowing on Logan’s tan skin, reflecting off of Leo’s golden curls. He felt peaceful, relaxed in their quiet company.

It was Leo who broke the silence, his quiet voice carrying through the late evening calm.

“I haven’t seen the stars like this since I was home.”

Logan leaned up on an elbow to look at him, on the other side of Finn. “Really?”

“Ya.” His voice was almost a whisper now, and Finn turned to look at him too, catching the wistful look in his eyes as he watched the sky. “You can see so many of them at home. I didn’t know I would miss them so much.”

“Knutty…” Logan made a move as though he wanted to reach out, but stopped himself, simply looking at Leo for a moment before lying back down instead. “I didn’t know.”

“I never told you.” Leo responded gently; his eyes still turned up.

Finn followed his gaze up to the glittering ceiling, so high above them. “I get why you would miss them. You never see anything like this in the cities. It’s beautiful.”

“It is.” He agreed, his smile sad.

But then his voice turned playful again, and he smirked as he sat up to look at Finn and Logan, flat on their backs next to him. “Too bad you have to freeze your ass off to see them here. Time to go!” He dug his hands down beside him, flicked handfuls of snow up at both of them, and was up and running to the car before either of them could register the shock of the cold sliding down their faces.

---

The drive back home that night was peaceful. Logan and Leo relaxed in their seats, listening to Finn singing quietly along to the radio as he drove. Logan had teased Finn for knowing all the lyrics to every song that came on (“it’s literally my job, Lo.”), but he had also been the one to ask him to keep singing as he dozed off against his window in the backseat. All three of them were pleasantly sleepy from the day spent out in the cold air.

When they arrived back in Gryffindor, Finn drove past downtown, where Leo’s hotel was, to drop off Logan first. When Logan questioned him about it, Finn simply replied, “You get picked up first, you get dropped off first. I don’t make the rules Lo, I just follow them.”

Logan seemed to be too tired to argue with that logic, so he just shrugged and carried on singing softly with Finn until they reached Dumo’s driveway.

“See you guys later.” He clapped their shoulders, looking tired but happy as he climbed out of the back seat. “Thanks for today, Finn. I had fun.”

“You’re welcome, Lo. Anytime.” Finn smiled at him.

“See you in the morning, Tremz.” Leo added, and the two of them watched as Logan walked up the front steps.

When Logan was safely inside, Finn started the short drive back to the hotel. Leo was still quiet, looking content with his head against the window, studying what little he could see of the stars now that they were back in the city.

Finn kept sneaking glances at him as he went over a plan in his head. He had a reason for dropping Logan off first- he wanted an opportunity to catch Leo alone. Had been waiting for it all day. But now that he had it, he was nervous, and before he knew it they were pulling up in front of the hotel.

“Thanks for today Finn, I had an incredible time.” Leo smiled sincerely at him and turned to open his door. Finn panicked then, not wanting him to leave, and practically screeched his name.

“Leo, wait!”

Leo jumped, eyes wide in confused surprise as he looked back at Finn.

Goddamn, those eyes. Finn had never seen eyes so blue. He had to look away to find his voice again.

“Uh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell that.”

“That’s fine, Harz. What’s up?”

Finn took a breath to steady himself and brought his gaze back up to meet Leo’s.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were living in hotels?”

Leo’s expression grew even more confused.

“I don’t know… I guess it never came up. It’s not a big deal, rookies do it all the time.”

Finn nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay…” Leo nodded too, waiting for Finn to speak again. When he didn’t, Leo turned to the door again. “Well, thanks again for today, I’ll –“

“You should come and live with me.” Finn blurted it out, and then held his breath as he waited to for a response. He hoped he hadn’t crossed a line. But it made him so sad to think of Leo, kind, sweet Leo, all alone in strange hotel rooms every night. Especially after tonight, after seeing how homesick he really was.

Leo’s eyebrows shot up, and he opened and closed his mouth several times before managing to stammer out, “I- what?”

Finn looked back down at the steering wheel, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. He spoke quickly, nervously. “Obviously you don’t have to do that. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you or anything, that’s definitely not my intention, I just- I mean, I have the space, you know that… and just, the idea of you not having a place that you can call home right now…” He paused for a moment. “I don’t know. I don’t want you to have to experience that. Not when I can help.”

He kept his gaze focused on the steering wheel, the stitching of it suddenly very interesting.

“Finn,” said Leo softly. Finn swallowed once and forced himself to look back up at the younger boy. There was an odd look on his face. Finn hoped it wasn’t a bad sign. “Thank you, for offering.”

Finn nodded, swallowing again even though his mouth felt desert dry.

Leo looked out the window, up at the façade of the Hogwarts Hotel, thoughtful. Finn would have given anything at that moment to know what he was thinking. Leo and his stupid goalie face.

After a moment, he turned back to him. “Are you serious?”

Finn nodded quickly, his confidence starting to return when Leo didn’t laugh at him. “Of course. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. But I’m also serious when I say I won’t be offended if you’re not interested. I know sometimes people don’t like sharing a space.”

Leo let out a breath through his nose and chewed his lip as he considered Finn for a few more moments.

“I think I would like that.” He said, his features softening as he started to smile.

“Really?” Finn was pleasantly surprised. “You would?”

Leo laughed. “I would.”

“Sweet! Ok. Tell me which room you want and I’ll make sure it’s all cleared out for you. Whenever you want to come. You could literally come tomorrow. I have nothing scheduled in those rooms”

Leo leaned back against the seat, shaking his head fondly at Finn’s trademark earnestness. “I’m booked in here until the end of the week. I was supposed to move to another hotel on Friday. Is that too early?”

“No! That’s perfect.”

“Well. Alright then. I guess I’ll be there on Friday.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.” They smiled at each other awkwardly for a second, and Leo burst into laughter.

“Okay, now its weird. Goodnight Finn.” He stepped out of the car.

“Goodnight, Leo.”

Finn couldn’t stop grinning the whole way home.

#sweater weather lumosinlove #lumosinlove #Coast To Coast #o'knutzy

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